90 



American 'See JonrnaT| 



An Experimental Apiary at Gergy. France. 



altogether too heavy for the fine roads 

 of Europe. Our light buggies, with 

 wheels made of hickory wood, would 

 create a sensation, for nothing as light 

 is seen anywhere. The traveling carts 

 of the peasants could carry a ton or 

 more without breaking down, and do 

 not wear out as our light rigs do. But 

 what a waste of energy and horse flesh 

 in drawing those heavy vehicles over 

 those magnificent roads! 



Burgundy is beautiful. Every road 

 is lined with poplars or elms, well 

 trimmed and kept under control. Rape, 

 clover, the silver-leaf linden abound. 

 The woods are full of flowers. Every 

 forest is divided into a certain number 

 of areas, and each is cut down in turn, 

 retaining the finest trees for further 

 growth. No cattle are allowed to 

 range in the young timber. The re- 

 sult is a very thick growth of trees 

 which permits the harboring of game. 

 For that reason the wild boar is still 

 to be found, just as it was in the time 

 of Walter Scott's heroes. I was as- 

 tonished to find that our host, who is 

 68 years old and weighs 240 pounds, 

 was still an active hunter and fisher- 

 man. He gave us a sample of what he 

 could do by taking us to the Saone 

 river and there, from a little row-boat 

 such as we have on the Mississippi, 

 throwing a large " cast net " from his 

 shoulder, while standing up at the 

 stern of the boat. He caught a fine 

 fry of gudgeons and a few American 

 sunfishes which have lately been raised 

 in French waters. 



During the trip to Beaune, with our 



host, we saw the silver-leaf linden in 

 full bloom. It is much later than our 

 Illinois lindens, but this spot is at the 

 47th degree while our central Illinois 

 is at the 40th. Their hillsides are 

 mostly in vineyards, and were it not 

 for the pastures and meadows, there 

 would be but little honey production 

 in the mountain portions. 



Up the hills we went, among the 

 vineyards, till we reached the park and 

 castle of Mandelot, the property of an 

 aged retired merchant, Mr. Bouchard. 

 While the old gentleman himself es- 

 corted Mrs. Dadant to the flower and 

 vegetable gardens and to the hothouse, 

 we visited the apiarv from which the 

 manager was extracting honey. They 

 use the DeLayens hive ; what we would 

 call here a "long-idea" hive. It con- 

 tains but a single story, with from 20 

 to 30 frames about 12 by 13 inches. 

 They prefer this system on account of 

 its simplicity. They have no supers. 

 The honey is all extracted. It is re- 

 tailed in tin pails and small earthen 

 jars holding a kilogram or more. The 

 kilogram is 2.2 pounds. We opened a 

 30-frame hive, every comb of which 

 was full. The bees were mainly hybrids. 



A magnificent lunch was served to 

 us in the dining-room of the castle, 

 from the products of the farm ; milk, 

 cream, cheese, butter, honey of course, 

 fruits of every sort in spite of the short 

 crop, and the inevitable and palatable 

 champagne wine, with enormous home- 

 baked cakes, served on a table ('< feet in 

 width. 



At Savigny, on the other side of the 



mountain, we found more bees, and as 

 hearty a reception. Mr. Vallot, located 

 at this spot, is a manufacturer of bee- 

 hives on a small scale. His apiary, on 

 a steep hillside, is among the vines. 

 Often the vines are trained on single 

 stakes and rarely arranged in rows, for 

 cultivation. Nearly all the tilling is 

 done with the hoe or mattock. There 

 does not appear to be any desire to 

 save hand labor. 



It would take too long to tell of all 

 the apiaries which we visited during 

 those two days. We have already 

 spoken, in our September number, 

 page 2!)5, of our visit to Dracy and 

 Chalon. We were feasted everywhere, 

 rather too much. We had breakfast 

 before starting at 5 o'clock, a lunch at 

 10, dinner at 1, another lunch at 5, and 

 supper at our return at 8 p.m. Five 

 meals, all but the first and last in differ- 

 ent places ! We were " going some." 



During all this time the weather was 

 cool, so cool that Mrs. Champion 

 loaned some furs to my wife, to ride in 

 the early morning. Furs in July! The 

 air was bracing, the view beautiful. 

 Those winding, smooth, white roads 

 are lined with tall poplars. The little 

 rivulets, flowing towards the larger 

 Saone, among the fields, are regularly 

 shaded with willows. The small fields, 

 parceled out, all over France, like a 

 lot of pocket handkerchiefs spread in 

 the sun, are of various shades, from the 

 deep green of the potato field, through 

 the golden of the ripening wheat to the 

 red of blooming clover, and the white 

 of the buckwheat. And to still farther 



