564 



THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



Sept. 3, 



nice cows, and over a thousand acres of land to sell." She and 

 I both laughed heartily. She then said that would do, and 

 apologized to me the next time she saw me, for what she 

 called her rudeness. I told her that there was no apology due 

 at all, for I enjoyed it no doubt more than she did. Variety, 

 you know, is the spice of life, and I enjoyed the change from 

 the usual routine of monotonous questions and answers. 



I was troubled more last year by birds eating my bees 

 than ever before. It was redbirds. They had their nests in 

 the poultry yard and orchard, and appeared in the apiary a 

 number of times through the day for a fresh supply of bees. 

 They were the most voracious feeders, it seemed to me, that I 

 ever saw, considering their size. One day I found a nest full 

 of young birds, so I told a little negro boy that was doing my 

 chores, that he might go at night and catch the mother-bird 

 on the nest, and kill her, and then get the young ones. He 

 was very anxious for night to come, so he could have some 

 fun. When he started, I told him to be very careful, and not 

 let her get away. "No," said he, "she will not get away 

 'ceptin' I die." In a few moments I heard the bird, and then 

 Jim came. Heat first denied seeing her, but I told him that 

 that wouldn't do, for I heard the bird, and so of course knew 

 that she was there. Then he owned up, and showed me 

 where she bit him. He was badly whipped, for I could not 

 again prevail on him to go to the nest that night. The next 

 day, however, he went and brought the nest of young birds, 

 which my little rat-terrier dog (Frisk) killed. 



My husband taught me how to use a gun. Having a very 

 fine laminated-steel double-barrel shot-gun, I had used it 

 eflfectually all these years when occasion required. Just 

 imagine, if you can, my chagrin and disappointment, after 

 repeated trials to kill those annoying little redbirds, that I 

 verily do believe ate up as many as a full colony of my bees. 

 When the truth finally dawned upon me, I found that it was 

 my eyes that caused the trouble. I had been taking digitalis 

 for my heart-trouble, until I could not see rightly, hence the 

 over or under shot. 



I have had several chickens at different times that learned 

 to know the difference between a worker-bee and a drone. 

 They would soon learn to know at about what time to go to a 

 hive for a feast. They would stand and catch them as they 

 came out for their regular flight. If a worker got on and 

 stung them, which they seldom did, they would run off a little 

 from the hives, pick it off and drop it, and back to the hive 

 they would go for more drones. I noticed this more last year 

 than ever before. I suppose the reason of this was that I was 

 sick, and not able to attend to my bees last spring, so, of 

 course, there were more drones than usual. 



I have many times kept a queen in a cage laid on top of 

 frames in a hive that had a queen and was working all right, 

 for from a few days to two weeks. I had a double purpose in 

 this ; sometimes I would get a queen, may be from a distance, 

 and not have a colony prepared for her reception. Then, 

 again, I wanted to learn all I could about bees, so kept her 

 there for experimental purposes. I have kept them on the 

 alighting-board in front of the entrance, or rather at the side 

 instead of exactly in front, for several days. In both cases 

 the bees fed and cared for her all right. 



Mr. N. D. West's coil-wire cell-protectors are very val- 

 uable in keeping queen-cells I found them indispensable 

 after once giving them a trial. 



Bee-stings for rheumatism — have I ever given it a trial ? 

 Yes. Last winter my wrists were very much swollen, and the 

 mose excruciating pain imaginable. It was said to be rheu- 

 matism. Well, I suffered until it just seemed to me that I 

 could not bear it any longer. I thought of the bees, so I de- 

 termined to give them a trial. At first I must acknowledge I 

 was a little timid about getting them to sting me, but, never- 

 theless, I decided to give them a trial. I caught a bee, put 



her on, but somehow failed on several trials. I, however, 

 finally succeeded, and found that I was greatly relieved. After 

 thus succeeding, and finding relief, it was very little trouble 

 to get them to sting. If you could have seen me with lantern 

 in hand at 2 a.m., with five bees on one wrist, and four on the 

 other at the same time, I guess you would have thought that I 

 was either a fit subject for the mad house, or that there cer- 

 tainly was some virtue in formic acid applied epidermically 

 through the agency of the honey-bee. I have sat ofttimes 

 with a bee, sometimes several at the same time, on my wrist 

 with a good magnifying glass first over one and then another 

 watching them pump the poison into my flesh. Poor little 

 things, I have felt sorry for them, well knowing that in their 

 giving me relief, they were sacrificing their own lives. 



Phitalacta, taken internally eight drops at a time, three 

 times each day for four months, however, is the remedy that 

 finally cured me of rheumatism. This is a preparation made 

 from polk-root. 



In the long ago, about the beginning of the war, I was ' 

 sick nigh unto death. The attending physician pronounced 

 my ailment gravel. After vainly trying all the remedies at 

 his command, yet without giving me relief, he thought of 

 bees, and asked my father it he had any. To which (fortu- 

 nately for me) he replied, "Yes." He told my parents to get 

 48 bees, and pour a pint of boiling water over them Let it 

 stand a few minutes, then give me one tablegpoonful every 10 

 minutes until it was all gone. This remedy, though you may 

 think it a strange one, gave me the first relief that I had had 

 for many hours. The Doctor sat by my bedside all that long 

 night through, with small hope of recovery. But for the bee- 

 tea I certainly would not have survived, and now be penning 

 these lines. Who, then, can blame me for being a bee-enthu- 

 siast ? Not the bee-keepers, I am quite sure, for they, too, 

 love and appreciate the bee and its products. 



Salado, Bell Co., Tex, 

 [The End.] 



A "Model Cellar" for Bees. 



BY JACOB DICKMAN. 



What are the proper conditions ? It may not be amiss to 

 give a description of my cellar, in which I have successfully 

 wintered my bees since 1884, having never lost a colony 

 during the 12 years. 



The cellar is under the kitchen part of our dwelling-house. 

 The soil is a very stiff blue-clay, which I believe is far superior 

 to one built in yellow sand. There seems to be a dampness in 

 a cellar located in yellow sand that is not to be found in one 

 that is dug in clay. We find it so in this locality, at least. 



A cellar in yellow sand is the place to set milk to raise the 

 largest amount of cream and make good, solid butter, even 

 while the thermometer registers in the nineties. However, it 

 is almost useless to try to make butter in warm weather, in 

 my cellar, but we find it just the place to winter bees. My 

 cellar is 15x22 ftet, enclosed by a wall 18 inches thick, with 

 the bottom and part way up the sides well cemented with the 

 best of Portland cement, with the hope that no drain would 

 be needed. I wintered my bees the first winter very nicely 

 with the thermometer varying very little from 33°, Fahr. 

 This is considered entirely too cold, yet there was no damp- 

 ness, and the bees came through in very fine condition. 



In less than a week from the time the bees were taken 

 from the cellar, rains came, and water to the depth of nearly 

 three feet soon gathered in the cellar, and I was obliged to 

 put in a drain. I went down a foot below the cellar-wall and 

 placed a tile on the inside of the cellar six inches from the 

 wall, digging through the cement and burying the tile about 

 12 inches deep. This keeps the cellar perfectly dry. 



The flue into which the pipe from the kitchen stove en- 



