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THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



Aug. 6, 



the circumstances I can hardly feel that it fully explain* all. 

 Let me explain a little more as to my two-story hives: 

 When the one story was well filled I added a second story, 

 putting half the brood in the upper story directly over the 

 other half in the lower story. The queen seemed to go readily 

 from one story to the other, as was shown by the fact that 

 always young brood, and perhaps eggs, could be found in 

 either story. But supposing the going from one story to 

 another did make any trouble, there were the empty frames 

 in each story right beside the brood— why didn't the queen 

 occupy them instead of swarming? 



It is only fair to add that for years I have each year kept 

 a few colonies in hives three to five stories high, and in these 

 piles of hives I have never known a colony to swarm. Some 

 of them have been immense colonies, keeping 14 frames filled 

 with brood, but with no offer to swarm. I don't understand 

 why these should refrain from swarming, even though some- 

 times fairly crowded, and yet the colonies in two stories 

 swarm with plenty of empty comb. But then there are lots of 

 things I don't understand about bees. Marengo, 111. 



Fifteen Years' Experience in Bee-Keeping. 



BY MRS. 8ALLIE E. SHERMAN. 

 (Continued from page 484 ,) 



The study of bee-culture opens wide the book of Nature, 

 bids us look in, quaff, and want more. Ah ! what a precious 

 study it has been to me. It has opened avenues of thought 

 never before dreamed of. Life is more to me than it ever 

 could have been without the little, busy bees. But, alas ! all 

 things earthly have an end. So I and the precious, little, God- 

 given, nectar-gathering honey-bees have separated. They are 

 gone— all gone. Alas ! it is true, I own not a single bee. 

 They have gone to a new home, and I, too, will very soon 

 have to leave this dear, sweet, little home. A few weeks 

 more, and I, too, will leave for Dallas, my future home. 



In the fall of 1895, the Gordon sisters, two estimable 

 maiden ladies (one of them born on my birthday, seven years 

 later), being tired of the dress-making business, and still 

 wanting something out of which to earn a living for them- 

 selves and be able to care for their aged mother in her declin- 

 ing years, hearing that my bees and fine poultry were for sale, 

 came to see me, and purchased my whole outfit. So that is 

 the way the Texas Bee and Poultry Yards came to be located 

 IK miles north of Belton. I wish to say now and here that 

 they are thoroughly reliable and trustworthy, and orders sent 

 to them for anything in their line will receive careful and 

 prompt attention. They guarantee safe arrival and full satis- 

 faction in every instance. 



Oh ! but didn't they have a good time getting every thing 

 moved. There were 56 colonies of bees, quite a number of 

 them in hives three stories high; lots of empty hives, extrac- 

 tors, etc.. too numerous to think of itemizing ; 80 chickens, 

 most of them full bloods. It took seven two-horse wagon- 

 loads— not a single frame of which was broken. Mr. Jones, 

 the brother-in-law of the Gordon sisters, did all the packing 

 and moving except one wagon-load. All he had to do to get 

 people to give him the road was to call out, "Bees, live 

 bees !" then he could keep right in the center of the road 

 without either turning to the right or left. 



One day, on his trip home, one of the hive-covers slipped 

 a little, and quite a lot of bees got out before he noticed them, 

 and not having the smoker with him, as he should have hadi 

 he could not get them back ; so, after closir.g the hive so that 

 no more of them could escape, he proceeded on his journey 

 with, he said, "a small swarm hovering over the wagon." 

 Just then he met a buggy full of negro, " which," he said, 

 "was all, only one "—a fat woman weighing about 300 



pounds. He yelled, " Live bees !" She threw up her hands, 

 frightened half out of her wits, saying, " Oh, Lordy, massa, 

 what'll I do? Oh, Lordy, massa, don't let 'em kill me ! Git 

 up, here, you old hoss I Git up, here !" Away she went, I 

 suppose rejoicing that her life had been thus miracluously 

 saved by the speed of her "hoss." Mr. Jones reported not 

 having been at all crowded on the streets of Belton, as he 

 passed through. 



A few summers back, little "Gordon," Mr. Jones' young- 

 est son, went out with broom in hand to shoo the bees in, as it 

 was raining, and he thought they oughtn't get wet. After 

 shooing them a few times, and they wouldn't go in, he pro- 

 ceeded to push them with the broom. Several stung him ; 

 but nothing daunted, he went into the house to tell mamma 

 they wouldn't mind him and go in out of the rain. He wanted 

 her to help him get them in, but warned her that they had 

 " pins that would stick " her ! 



In my early experience using a smoker, I often found just 

 at the time I needed it most It would be out. By some means 

 I one day set it down so the nozzle was up. When I wanted 

 to use it I found it was all right. The smoker problem was 

 then solved — no more relighting, etc. 



I decidedly prefer a hot-blast smoker. If I, or anyone, 

 was stung by the bees, we just scraped the sting out and 

 puffed the warm smoke on for a few puffs, and that was the 

 last of the pain, and no swelling followed, provided the sting 

 did not stay in too long. 



I once had a colony of hybrids the most vicious I ever 

 owned. They were near where I had to pass frequently, so it 

 was very annoying, as they would come out in full force on 

 the warpath without any provocation whatever, every time I 

 passed. I soon became tired of that, so I just kept the smoker 

 lighted, and at times all through the day, for several days. I 

 would give them a good smoking. In less than a week I 

 could pass as often as I pleased without smoking them or being 

 molested. 



I once had several frames standing by a hive that I was 

 looking through. Suddenly the wind blew up briskly and 

 blew my dress, which had a ruffle on the bottom of it, against 

 those frames, which infuriated the bees to such an extent as I 

 had never before seen, and hope never again to see. I tried 

 to, and did finally succeed, after being severely stung, in get- 

 ting the hive closed. Not so in quieting the bees. I smoked 

 them vigorously, which seemed only to madden instead of 

 quieting them. I had a pen in which were two large, fat 

 hogs, about 80 steps from these infuriated little monsters. 

 To them they went and began such a war as I have never 

 read of, and hope never again to witness. The strange part 

 of it was, it seemed that their anger was contagious, and that 

 every colony in the yard was on the warpath, all making for 

 the hogs. As the moments passed, matters grew from bad to 

 worse. Well, what 1 did is much easier asked than answered, 

 for I did a little of everything I could think of in the way of 

 using an abundance of smoke and water, but it did no good at 

 all. If it hadn't been that two negro women came to my re- 

 lief, and helped me raise the pen so the hogs could get out, I 

 don't know when or where the catastrophe would have ended. 

 I am satisfied that each of the hogs had received more than a 

 hundred stings. It looked as if there were a half-dozen good- 

 sized swarms in and Ground that hog-pen. My ! my ! what a 

 terrible time it was. I failed utterly to see any poetry in that 

 whole performance, or even in bee-keeping that particular 

 afternoon. 



As for ruffles on my dress, well, after that exhibition I 

 failed to see their utility, so discarded them altogether for 

 bee-dresses. 



Hold on, the scene is not yet closed. There is another 

 act in the drama. After the pen was raised, and the hogs 

 libe'rated, where do you think they went ? Well, you'd hardly 



