296 



T'HE mwrnMrni^Mm mmw jQ'Wmmmi^, 



over the sides of the hives, and then a 

 board nailed on. The dampness in the 

 blanket served the double purpose of 

 keeping the bees cool, and furnishing 

 water while in transit. Wire-gauze 

 was nailed securely over the front of 

 the portico. Bees fixed up in like 

 manner, missing their destination, and 

 that were knocking about as freight 

 for three weeks, j'et finally arrived at 

 their destination all right. The bees 

 we shipped were sent by express. 



Frcsli M'ater tor Bees. 



Persons owning bees and not located 

 near streams of water, should furnish 

 them fresh water daily, as it will save 

 time, which, to the bee, means honey, 

 as it means money to us. The way they 

 frequent wells and cisterns shows that 

 they prefer water fresh to stale, and 

 they appear to enjoy sipping it from 

 gi-avel and sand. I have used milk- 

 crocks filled with gravel and sand, but, 

 on the whole, I prefer wooden kegs 

 with cloths put in them, hanging over 

 the sides, acting as syphons. The bees 

 sip water from the sunny side of the 

 kegs. The kegs should be washed out 

 frequently, and one should be a little 

 brackish, about a tea-spoonful of salt 

 to a pail of water. 



Starting an Apiary. 



A correspondent writes to know how 

 many colonies he should buy, in order 

 to start bee-keeping; what kind of 

 bees, and which is the best hive. 



A person having no previous knowl- 

 edge of bee-keeping should not pur- 

 chase more than two colonies, and let 

 his knowledge increase in the same 

 ratio as his bees. If it is a good sea- 

 son, the bees will double, and much 

 more, if allowed to follow their own 

 sweet will. If a colony is allowed to 

 swarm once, and no more, both will 

 be strong, and able to store surplus. 

 Much increase and honey cannot be 

 obtained the same season, and a per- 

 son can readily have which he prefers 

 — bees or honey. 



All bees are good, and persons can 

 take their choice. The Italians are the 

 most " fashionable" variety just now. 

 Brown or German bees have their good 

 points ; they build up quickly in the 

 spring, throw oft' enormous swarms, 

 and have the reputation of sealing the 

 whitest honey. Italians leave their 

 hives earlier in the morning, and work 

 later in the evening ; they have 

 stronger wings, and longer tongues 

 than the common bees. This enables 

 them to work on flowers which the 

 common bees cannot. 



The hive I use and prefer is the 

 eight-frame Langstroth. There may 

 be others just as good, but none better, 

 in my judgment. 



Peoria, Ills. 



POETRY. 



Tlie muses and llieir L.iterary 

 Productions. 



Written for the American Bee Journal 



BY JAMES HEDDON. 



It seems that bee-keeping is nioi*e of 

 a poetical business than many other 

 lines of production. Although some 

 of the rhymes found in bee-periodicals, 

 written by bee-keepers, are more of a 

 jingle than poetry, still, it shows us 

 that they are touched with the poetical 

 sentiment, caused by the excitement 

 and hustle of the apiary, with its hopes 

 and disappointments, resulting ifrom 

 its greatly varied income, together 

 with the fact that the work bi'ings one 

 in contact with Nature's scenery. But 

 to a far greater extent does field sports 

 bring one face to face with Nature's 

 most beautiful scenes, and that, too, at 

 a time Avhen the fancies are heated 

 with excitement, and the mind becomes 

 as plastic as molten ii'on before it has 

 cooled and hardened. 



To illustrate what I mean by ti'ue 

 poesy and "jingling" rhyme, allow me 

 to present a poem from George Arnold, 

 a second-rate English poet, entitled 



SEPTEMBER. 



Sweet is the voice that calls 



From babbling waterfalls 

 In meadowB where the downy seeds are flying. 



And sott the breezes blow 



And eddying come and go 

 In faded gardens where the rose is dying. 



Among the stubbled corn 



The blithe quail pipes at morn. 

 The merry partridge drums in hidden places, 



And glittering insects gleam 



Above the reedy stream 

 Where busy spiders spin their flimsy laces. 



At eve, cool shadows fall 



Across the garden wall. 

 And on the clustered grapes to purple turning, 



And pearly vapors lie 



Along the eastern sky. 

 Where the broad harvest-moon is redly burning. 



Ah ! soon on field and hill 



The winds shall whistle chill 

 And patriarch-swallows call their flocks together, 



To fly from frost and snow. 



And seek for lands where blow 

 The fairer blossoms of a balmier weather. 



The pollen-dusted bees 



Search tor the honey-lees 

 That linger in tbc last flowers of September, 



While plaintive-mourning doves 



Coo sadly to their loves 

 Of the dead Summer they so well remember. 



The cricket chirps all day. 



*' O fairest Summer, stay !" 

 The squirrel eyetMiskancf the chestnuts browning; 



The witd-f-.ul fly afar 



Above tlie foamy bar. 

 And hasten southward ere the skies are frowning. 



Now comes a fragrant breeze 



Through the dark cedar trees. 

 And round about my temples fondly lingers 



In gentle playfulness. 



Like to the soft caress 

 Bestowed in happier days by loving fingers. 



Yet. though a sense of grief 



Comes with the falling leaf. 

 And memory makes the Summer doubly pleasant, 



In all ray Autumn dreams 



A future summer gleams. 

 Passing the fairest gioriea of the present. 



A poem may be poetical from its 

 sentiment, but it seems to mc that it is 

 Avith the descriptive that the poet finds 

 his best opportunity to excel. I con- 

 sider that there is no other tield equal 

 to that of description. 



We should be able to fairly judge of 

 a poem entirely independent of the 

 reputation of its author, and now I will 

 give one which I consider fully equal 

 to the foregoing, by Frank Selden, of 

 Modus, Conn., an obscure writer, who, 

 so far as I have been • able to learn, is 

 a true field sportsman. Although his 

 name is not great, any one who appre- 

 ciates true poesy, cannot for a moment 

 fail to recognize that he is great ; and 

 to meet him and make his acquaintance 

 would be of vastly more pleasure to 

 me than to meet any of the Presidents 

 of the United States. 



We will suppose that just before the 

 shooting season, Frank and *' Scout ^' 

 are taking a pleasant stroll in the 

 woods, and both becoming tired, Frank 

 sits down upon a log, while Scout re- 

 clines by his side, and as their eyes 

 meet, Frank addresses the noble ani- 

 mal as follows : 



TO MY SETTER "SCOOT." 



You are a tried and loyal friend. 

 The end 



Of life will find you leal, unwearv 

 Of tested bonds that naught can rend. 



And e'en if years be sad and dreary 

 Our plighted friendship will extend. 



A truer friend man never had ; 

 'Tis sad 



That 'mongst all earthly friends the fewest 

 Unfaithful ones should thus be clad 



In canine lowliness ; yet, truest 

 They, be their treatment good or bad. 



Within your eyes methinks I find 

 A kind 



And thoughtful look of speechless feeling 

 That Mem'ry's loosened cords unbind. 



And let the dreamy past ct>me stealing 

 Through your dumb, reflective mind. 



Scout, my trusty friend, can it be 

 You see 



Again, in retrospective dreaming. 

 The run, the woodland and the lea. 



With past Autumnal sunshine streaming 

 O'er ev'ry frost-dyed field and tree ? 



Or do you see now once again 

 The glen 

 And fern, the highland and the thistle ? 

 And do you still remember when 

 We heard the bright-eyed woodcock whistle 

 Down by the rippling shrub-edged fen ? 



I see you turn a list'ning ear 

 To hear 



TUe quail upon the flower-pied heather ; 

 But. doggie, wait till uplands sere 



And tlien the Autumn's waning weather 

 Will bring the sport we hold so dear. 



Then we will hunt the loamy swale 

 And trail 



The snipe, their cunning wiles o'ercoming : 

 And oft will flush the bevied quail. 



And hear the partridge slowly drumming 

 Dull echoes in the leaf-strewed dale. 



When wooded hills with crimson light 

 Are briglit. 



We'll stroll where trees and vines are growing 

 And see birds warp their southern flight 



At sundown, wlieu the Day-King's throwing 

 Sly kisses to the Queen of Night. 



But when the leaves of life's fair dell 

 Have fell. 



And Death comes with the Autumn's even 

 And separates us, who can tell 



But that, within the realm of Heaven, 

 We both together there will dwell? 



PERSONAL, 



Allow me to thank you, Mr. Editor, 

 for your kind mention of my election. 

 I reallj^ have reason to feel somewhat 

 proud of it, as I desired neither nomi- 

 nation nor election ; solicited no votes 

 or poll-workers, and had a majority of 

 76 to overcome before my majority 

 began. Our bright and rapidly grow- 

 ing little city is this year expending 

 140,000 for a thorough system of water 



