612 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Aug. 15. 



sections. For experiment I have built a little 

 bee-house, double walled, and packed, and 

 roomy enough to take in six colonies. By 

 means of a kerosene-lamp I can raise the tem- 

 perature inside to 90 degrees, and keep it 

 there any length of time. To regulate the 

 lamp I have to open but a small glass door 

 just above the floor. A thermometer inside 

 tells what the temperature is, and it may be 

 seen from the outside through the same glass 

 door mentioned. During daytime the tem- 

 perature keeps high enough, many a time, 

 without the lamp. 



Each colony may be given two or three 

 supers of unfiuishe 1 sections at one time, and 

 a Miller feeder placed on top. This, of course, 

 must be kept filled with diluted honey, which, 

 be ng kept warm by the heating apparatus, is 

 thus always in good condition to he taken by 

 the bets Sometimes I feed at the entiance 

 also — not by an entrance feeder, 

 but by piling up at the entrance 

 sections not containing honey 

 enough to justify me in return- 

 ing to the hive for finishing. 

 All sealed patches must he un- 

 seals d, or scratched with an 

 uncapping - comb — an instru- 

 ment that might well be off r- 

 ed for sale. When the weath r 

 is warm enough all honey will 

 generally b^ removed from the 

 secti ms during the night. In 

 cold nigh s it does not work so 

 well, and the be»-k. eprr must 

 no. fail to remove the s- ctions 

 from the entrance early in the 

 morning, or trouble and rob- 

 bing may be the re tilt. 



In closing I wish t » say that 

 all my section honey now gain- 

 ed by feeding back looks as 

 fine as any. and lepresents 

 "the fit-Id gone over vith the 

 smoothing-harrow," in my illustration 



Naples, N. Y., Aug. 4. 



had known in San Bernardino Co., and I won- 

 dered what I had done to lead parson Brainard 

 to get after me; but as the stranger loomed up 

 more and more I was greatly relieved to find 

 that it was not the parson, after all. I passed 

 him into my room, observing that he was a 

 tall, well-built man, having the air of a person 

 who had traveled more or less with a kodak. 

 Said he, " I believe this is the Rambler." 

 " That is just where you are right," said I. 

 Then he introduced himself as Frank 

 McNay, of Wisconsin, the owner of many 

 apiaries, and an extensive dealer in honey. 

 We talked about bees and honey, east, 

 west, north, south, and diagonally. Mr. 

 McNay is a well-posted bee-man, and is some- 

 thing of a rambler himself, having spent a 

 winter in Florida, and now with his wife he 

 had come to spend the winter in Southern 

 California, with every evidence in their minds 



RAMBLE 172. 



Rambler and a Wisconsin Honey-producer on a 



Crow-hunt. Som thing about Crows in 



General. 



BY kAMBLEK. 



Soon after my return 10 the southland, and 

 to the beautiful city of the angtls, the la iy 

 who had charge of several bachelor lodgrrs 

 came to my room one evtning and repo.ted 

 that there was a gentleman downstairs who 

 desired to see me 



" Is he good-looking? " said I 



''Why, yts," said she; "and if you will 

 pass in a crowd, he will " 



" Show him right up, Miss May ; show him 



U P " 



I took my position at the head of tl e s'airs 



to greet the stranger, and the first impr s^ion 

 about the man that struck me was the size of 

 his skylight His head was bald for a con- 

 siderable area, and, as sure as you live, I 

 thought the head belonged to a minister I 



that it is a better place than Florida. Mr. 

 and Mrs. McNay were provided with Rambler 

 bicycles, and suggested that it would be ap- 

 prop iate for the Rambler to have such a 

 wheel ; but as a Cleveland had won the day 

 with me I was content to be perfectly satisfied 

 with it. 



I found time to take several wheelrides 

 with these friends, and, after visiting my 

 apiary and several others, it occurred to me 

 that Mr. McNay would like a longer trip than 

 we had been taking, and I invited him to take 

 a wheelride to the Little Tehunga Canyon, 25 

 miles distant, for a two-days' crow-hunt. 



The plan struck Mr. McNay very favorably; 

 but Mrs. McNay declined to go. Although 

 she did not so express herself, I surmised that 

 she finished her hunting when she captured 

 McNav. But, pshaw! what am I saying? it 

 was the other way — McNay captured her — 

 that's it. Well, however the capturing may 

 be, she had no ambition for a crow hunt, and 

 at the proper time Mr. McNay and I started 

 out on our wheels, amply armed and provi- 

 sioned for the purpose. 



A fair day, fair roads, and pleasant com- 

 panionship, were the happy factors in the 



