gleaningsdin bee culture. 



Feb. 1. 



capsules, and experimented in filling them with 

 honey. The results were not satisfactory. 

 The gelatine produced a highly disturbing 

 effect in the mouth by first breaking into brit- 

 tle and glassy pieces, and then, after the honey 

 was gone, dissolving with a coarse material 

 flavor that quite obliterated the ethereal gusto 

 of the honey. I then made some paraffine 

 capsules by means of two sticks for molds, one 

 a little larger than the other. These were 

 too fragile, and left too much residuum in the 

 way of chewing-gum. I had some thoughts of 

 attempting to make capsules of honey candy, 

 but gave it up as too difficult on a large scale, 

 without the proper appliances. Moreover, such 

 a confection gives too much prominence to the 

 candy at the expense of the honey, for the 

 honey disappears quickly and the candy slowly. 

 What is wanted is a comparatively tasteless 

 envelope, disappearing quickly. I have heard 

 that " bonbons filled with liquor" are common 

 in Germany, so I suppose there are such things 

 on the market, which could be adapted to our 

 needs by substituting honey for the liquor. 

 Can it be done cheaply enough? Only a con- 

 fectioner could tell. 



Very likely machinery would be needed, 

 placing it beyond the power of the bee-keeper 

 to manufacture. Here is a chance for those 

 Medina machinists. Think of the combination 

 — "The So and So Company, manufacturers of 

 bee-supplies and honey confections," which 

 means that the power, the machinery, the 

 honey knowledge, the direct communication 

 with bee-keepers, and a peculiar interest in the 

 the product, such as other manufactiirprs could 

 not have, are all in one. 



The plan of dividing honey into mouthfuls, 

 however, does not preclude a possible surfeit. 

 The mouthfuls may be too often repeated, and 

 then — " No, thank you; honey does not agree 

 with me," or, " I used to think there was noth- 

 ing like honey, but somehow I have lost my 

 taste for it." Some will say this is laying too 

 much stress on a small point. I do not know 

 about that. It is true, honey is like a staple to 

 some people— Mr. E. T. Abbott, for instance, 

 who eats it 109.5 times a year; but do we not all 

 know of families on whose tables honey may 

 be placed every meal, without being touched 

 oftener than once a month by about half the 

 family ? I know of two or three just such fam- 

 ilies; and from remarks of my customers I sus- 

 pect the existence of many similar ones. Now, 

 it may be just a notion of mine; but I suspect 

 that, if once a day a little dab of honey, just a 

 taste, were placed by the plate of each person, 

 that little dab would generally be eaten. There 

 is no dislike to honey, as a rule; it is just indif- 

 ference; and if such individual portions would 

 generally be eaten, it needs only a little arith- 

 metic to show that the consumption of honey 

 would be vastly increased. Just secure the 



fate of the average individual portion, and the 

 mass of honey follows. 



What are the motives which lead the average 

 person to accept or refuse honey at the table? 

 First, it must generally be regarded as a tidbit, 

 or part of the dessert. To push it as a staple, I 

 am satisfied, will lead many to reject it entire- 

 ly. Its delicate aroma is best appreciated by 

 small tastes, and is deadened by ordinary bites. 

 Not only, to many palates, is it thus reduced 

 to the level of ordinary food, therefore regarded 

 with indifference, but these are generally the 

 people on whose stomachs it " sits heavily " in 

 large doses, creating a slight feeling of repug- 

 nance, thus sealing the fate of the next twenty- 

 nine chances of honey consumption. Second, 

 given this feeling of indifference as a result of 

 too free previous indulgence, the choice between 

 eating and not eating any food depends on the 

 quantity in which it is offered, and the ease of 

 obtaining it, say in the midst of an animated 

 conversation. To particularly ask for some- 

 thing they do not care for is what most people 

 will not do; and, even when presented, the 

 sight of a great block of concentrated sweet- 

 ness reminds one too vividly of the cause of his 

 indifference. But to casually rummage around 

 with a spoon, and unconsciously, perhaps, take 

 a taste here and there of what is immediately 

 before one, is the easiest thing in the world, 

 and, at the same time, the best remedy for that 

 indifference in the case of honey; for in this 

 way it gets a chance to reassert its superiority 

 by the free play which only leisurely tastes can 

 give its elusive flavor. But the individual por- 

 tions must be small, or these advantages are 

 lost. It is not the bulk of honey eaten at one 

 t me that tells, but the freqv:ency with which 

 it is consumed. If at the table there are any 

 persons who eat honey as thev do molasses, 

 they can ask for more. But these people, when 

 they become bee-keepers, should not lay down 

 the law for all others. I don't believe I could 

 survive a continual diet of corn bread and 

 bacon, even if some Southern people do grow 

 fat on it. 



[Since the above was put in type the follow- 

 ing has come to hand.— Ed.] 



T recently sent in an article, suggesting, 

 among other things, that gelatine capsules be 

 used for individual portions of honey. But a 

 prominent firm of manufacturing chemists, to 

 whom I wrote about the matter, replied: "The 

 manufacture of empty gelatine capsules re- 

 quires expensive molds and machinery, and it 

 would not be practical for any one to make 

 them unless in very large quantities— a million 

 and upward." That settles that. Here Is an- 

 other suggestion: For little chunks of comb 

 honey, it is possible that transparent adhesive 

 paper (such as is used for patching leaves in 

 books), so as to be capable of folding into a 

 miniature tight carton, would be cheap and 



