MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



ous. They blunder into each other's homes, 

 if near together, with a most wanton affecta- 

 tion of forgetf ulness ; and they steal honey 

 that has been carefully stored away in the 

 cells of sister swarms, with a vicious energy 

 that they rarely bestow upon a flower. In 

 their field forays, I believe they are respectful 

 of each other's rights; but at home, if only 

 the order is once disturbed, and a neighbor 

 swarm shows signs of weakness, they are the 

 most malignant pirates it is possible to con- 

 ceive of. 



Again, let no one hope for success in their 

 treatment, unless he is disposed to cultivate 

 familiarity; a successful bee-keeper loves his 

 bees, and has a way of fondling them, and 

 pushing his intimacy about the swarming 

 time, which I would not counsel an inapt or a 

 nervous person to imitate. 



Gelieu, a Swiss authority, and a rival of Ru- 

 ber in his enthusiasm, says : "Beaucoup de gens 

 aiment les abeilles ; je n'ai vu personne qui les 

 aimat mediocrement; on se passionne pour 

 elles." 



I have a neighbor, a quiet old gentleman, 

 who is possessed of this passion; his swarms 

 multiply indefinitely; I see him holding fre- 

 quent conversations with them through the 



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