502 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Jui«y 1. 



bees, consisting of about 60 hives kept at the 

 jail, Darjeeling. I had the privilege of mak- 

 ing the acquaintance of the native Nepaulese 

 apiarist, with whom I opened one of the hives. 

 No smoke was used in operating on these bees. 

 After the operation was over the bees became 

 very troublesome around my head, not sting- 

 ing, but buzzing and crawling about one's face 

 and neck in a very unpleasant manner, and I 

 had to take off my hat and veil and spend a 

 quarter of an hour whisking them off with a 

 bunch of leaves, in which task I was kindly as- 

 sisted by my worthy Asiatic friend whose por- 

 trait is here given (probably we should not 

 have had this trouble if smoke had been used), 

 with a frame of comb in his hand. The comb 

 is held in the frame by means of four wooden 

 sticks. The body of these bees is quite soft ; 

 the ventral segments of the abdomen are al- 

 most membranous. These bees build a cell 

 with a diameter \ that of our bees, and would 

 use our ordinary worker comb for raising 

 drones. 



Another variety of Apis mellifica found in 

 Ceylon looks like a cross between variety 

 Indica and the Himalaya bee. 



The actual sizes of these bees in the photo 

 may be estimated by comparing them with the 

 Italian bee shown in the right-hand bottom 

 corner. 



Ripple Court, Dover, England, June 5. 



[Only incidentally Mr. Sladen mentions the 

 fact that he made a tour through India, look- 

 ing up these different races or varieties of bees. 

 I have known for some time that he had a tech- 

 nical knowledge of the different bees, but had 

 forgotten to call upon him. 



Of Apis dorsata he says they are lazy and 

 bad-tempered. Our Mr. Rambo found them 

 quiet and easily handled. Is it possible that 

 there are distinctive differences between these 

 bees of the same kind so far as temper is con- 

 cerned ? Mr. Benton also, I believe, claims 

 that they are quiet-tempered. 



I had the photo showing the different vari- 

 eties enlarged, so the different specimens 

 would show up to be actual life size. This 

 will enable the reader to form a relative com- 

 parison between the different bees shown. 



In the plate under the heading of Apis dor- 

 sata, the worker marked "Apis zonata " ap- 

 pears very much larger than the other one also 

 supposed to be marked " worker." The spec- 

 imens of dorsata that we have in alcohol are 

 pointed at the end of the abdomen the same 

 as Italians, and look more like the dorsata on 

 the left. As to size, those we have are about 

 the length of the zonata shown. — Ed.] 



SWEET CLOVER. 

 A Revelation in Road-making. 



BY C. H. DIBBERN. 



We all know how desirable it is to have 

 good roads, and how miserably we generally 

 fail in getting them. The colossal ignorance 

 of the average "highwayman" is astonish- 



ing ; but he seems to plod along, year after 

 year, in the same old way. 



Usually, as soon as the roads become dry 

 and reasonably good in early summer, he com- 

 mences with plow and scraper, and soon has a 

 lot of "soft stuff " in the center, to be ground 

 up into dust or mud as the weather may de- 

 termine. Perhaps in October he will repeat 

 the operation, with the same result, and will, 

 perhaps, congratulate himself on work well 

 done. Oh, yes ! if there is any sweet clover 

 growing in the fence-corners it must be care- 

 fully cut down, although the jimsons, rag- 

 weeds, and thistles may go to seed. Perhaps 

 he will do a good deal of swearing at the bee- 

 men, who, he imagines, walk around nights 

 sowing the seed for his especial benefit. Like- 

 ly enough the farmers will do the swearing 

 the rest of the year about the bad roads. 



Last July, while driving in a distant town- 

 ship I struck a piece of road that was a pleas- 

 ant surprise and a revelation to me. Evident- 

 ly some bee-keeper must be road commission- 

 er, or else he had learned something. Here, 

 as in so many places in Illinois, the sweet clo- 

 ver was growing luxuriantly on both sides of 

 the road. By running a mower up and down 

 the road several times during the summer it 

 had been kept from encroaching on the drive- 

 way. Not only that, but the cut clover had 

 been thrown into the middle of the road; and 

 how springy and delightful it all was ! There 

 was no dust, and the pleasant perfume of 

 sweet clover filled the air. Some cattle in an 

 adjacent pasture were reaching through the 

 wire fence and feeding on the clover within 

 reach ; and the bees were on hand by thou- 

 sands, carrying away the nectar and filling the 

 air with their contented hum. Soon I passed 

 into another township; and, though the sweet 

 clover had extended for miles further, it had 

 all been cut and burned in the road, leaving a 

 scene of desolation; and, oh how dusty it was! 



Again I passed over this road in October. I 

 had been wallowing through the mud, and 

 was weary enough, when I again experienced 

 the pleasant sensation of my sweet clover road. 

 Instead of mud there was that springy road- 

 bed, without mud or dust. Upon further in- 

 vestigation I found the sweet clover had all 

 been cut when about done blooming, and care- 

 fully piled in the road where the sun had soon 

 wilted it, and the wagon-wheels had crushed 

 and mixed it with the soil. Though this road 

 ran through a level mucky country it was the 

 best road there was anywhere. The millions 

 of decaying roots in the ground on either side 

 seemed to provide a sort of natural drainage 

 that seemed to carry off all surplus water. It 

 appeared that no work with plow or grader 

 had been done on it for several years, and only 

 the intelligent care of the clover had done the 

 business. 



Now, is it not possible that, aside from bee- 

 keeping, as so often happens, we have been 

 making war on our best friend? Surety the 

 suggestions I have mentioned are worth inves- 

 tigating. Sweet clover has come to stay; and, 

 whether we are bee-keepers or not, had we 

 not better turn it to some account ? 



Milan, 111. 



