Ski'TK.mukr, 1022 



(^ T. K A N I N G S IN B E K C U L T U R E 



589 



Veils vs. No Veils. 



Some few beekeepers wear no veils at 

 all. Like Dr. Sanborn of Vanderbilt Uni- 

 versity. Most of them wear veils steadily, 

 when actually at work. Most of tliese, how- 

 ever, will occasionally open a hive or two, 

 nnveiied, especially colonics of known gen- 

 tle disposition. Small colonies and nuclei 

 are apt to be less resentful than full crowd- 

 ed hives, with a lot of spirited field workers 

 hurrying in and out. So, like the young 

 lady in the picture, one often opens such a 

 hive without a veil. But one is wise to 

 wear a veil, and have a goodly volume of 

 smoke at hand, when investigating full-sized 

 colonies. 



I Rpginiiers especially should be cautioned 

 about handling bees without adequate protec- 

 tion. There are times when it is reasonably 

 safe to handle even strong colonies without 

 a veil, and with some gentle strains of bees 

 even without smoke. The danger is that a 

 beginner, not knowing that bees that are 

 gentle at one time may become quite cross 

 at another, may get into trouble without a 

 veil. — Editor.] 



' ' The Friendliness of Beemen. ' ' 



The very first thing I ever wrote for 

 Gleanings had tliat for its title. And what 



This young lady gets along very well without a 



veil but most beekeepers wear veils when actually 



at work in the apiary. 



is finer in all this world of uncounted fine 

 things than friendliness V And how friendly 

 all beekeepers are! 



One day last July a card came saying that 

 Mr. and Mrs. D. C. Scott of Caney Spring, 

 Tenn., with several members of their fam- 

 ily and Geo. G. Anislie. government ento 

 ■ mologist, would be driving through the 

 country the ne-xt day, and were planning to 

 visit us at our apiary; and inviting us, the 

 "two of us," to join them in a roadside 

 lunch. On the appointed day, a hearty 

 voice over the telephone, calling from near 

 our yarri, said, "Well, we're here." T 

 jumped into the car and sped over to join 

 them — Mr. Allen, office man that he is, be- 

 ing unable that day to come out to join us. 

 There were wayside introductions and then 

 on the warm grass under the hackberry trees 

 in the little grove between the beeyard and 



the road, we broke bread together — good 

 homemade bread, too, and fried chicken and 

 good country ham and peach pie and a lot 

 of other things — more, oh much more, than 

 even six grown-ups reinforced by three hap- 

 l)y children could dispose of. So Mr. Scott's 

 daughter fixed up a picnic plate for Mr. Al- 

 len — and "Um-m, that's good country 

 ham, " he said. 



Mr. Scott, in spite of his grandchildren, 

 is a young beekeeper of three years — full of 

 enthusiasm and the delight of the apiary. I 

 ani afraid he was scandalized beyond recov- 

 ery to learn that I knew only one kind of 

 Miller queen cage, the kind I have — No. 2, 

 I think he said. I had really thought a Mil- 

 ler cage was a Miller cage! So it was a 

 profitable as well as a pleasant day for me. 

 Mr. Scott has some good ideas of some ex- 

 periments he is going to try in wintering. 

 (Hasn't it been a long time since I have re- 

 ferred to wintering? You can't tell — I may 

 start it again- — or I may avoid it forever!) 

 Mr. Anislie is a beekeeper, too, or has been, 

 anyway. So we had a pleasant and all too 

 short chat, ranging from Miller cages to 

 foul brood in Tennessee. 



After the party broke up, the three cars 

 ran over to the bungalow and stopped for 

 a few minutes; part of us walked down to 

 see the Ilubam, and then, with gay good- 

 byes and a wave of the hand, they wei'e 

 gone, headed toward the curve in the road 

 where the Lone Oak stands, on their way 

 to Granny White Pike and Radnor Lake. 

 Once more — and how happily! — I had known 

 the friendliness of beemen. 



Published by Request. 



[By request we aie reimblishing Mrs. W- 

 len's beautiful verses written soon after Dr. 

 C. C. Miller's death and first published in 

 her department in November, 1920. It seems 

 fitting to republish this now, since this issue 

 contains the announcement of the location 

 of the Miller Memorial Library, and Sept. 4 

 is the second anniversary of the death of 

 this great beekeeper.— Editor.] 

 How you Mould love this hour! Tho uuirning mist, 

 All touched with gold and blue and amethyst, 

 Goes rising slowly, lost somehow in light, 

 And lo, the sun-tipped hills break into sight! 

 Does Death come so? Do tender earth-born things 

 And human love, however close it clings, 

 Dissolve at last and rise and pass away 

 And show great hills of light, and God. and Day? 



The golden peace of autumn lies around. 



Vou loved it. too, and most, perhaps, this sound 



Of liees that hum. whose frail undaunted wings 



Fill wond;?ring souls with strange imaginings. 



Is peace around you now. so great, so deep. 



That we who do not know it call it sleep? 



Are wings there, too. God-made of dream and tire, 



That leave uugarnered no divine desir,^ .' 



Today this earthly beauty grips me so 

 I wonder what new radiance you know. 

 Such haunting music fills our quiet places — 

 What symphonies ring down unbounded spaces ? 

 Not ours to ask — ours but to dream the dream. 

 Ours but to keep the high-held torch agleam. 

 Ours but to walk in reverence and pride 

 Because you lived, and loved, and sinilrd. and died. 



