1084 



GLl^AXIXGS IX BEi: CUl.TURK. 



Dec. ]."5 



tain, the tables and chairs in the rear so in- 

 vitingly arranged, and, coming up on the 

 other side, the long lines of show-cases with 

 contents from eighty cents per pound at one 

 end to ten cents at the other, the long count- 

 er of shallow pans of "fresh-made candy," 

 fudge, peanut taffy, and even the molasses 

 candy so dear to every youngster s heart? 

 Oh for a word to express an inhaling, mouth- 

 watering swallow! One has to swallow hard 

 to (^hoke down the temptation to sample 

 every one. I wonder bow it is that all the 

 quarter-dollars do not go, instead of only 

 one. But look at that pile in the window — 

 "Special popular sale; twenty cents a box 

 for to-day only." Why, the lithographing, 

 the pink ribbon, and the picture of the pret- 

 ty girl are alone worth that. But I manage 

 to get away without spending quite all I 

 have, but I admit it was difficult. But these 

 boxes remind me of something that I forgot 

 at the grocery store. Back I go. 



"Say, Mr. Proprietor, I've a few sections 

 of honey. Your store seems attractive, and 

 I should like to put them on sale here." 



"Well, I don't know that I can use them 

 — not much call for honey. Got a big stock 

 of other things on hand, and some honey 

 too." 



And he takes me behind the counter and 

 shows a few plain sections in a wooden box. 

 Not a carton, not even a label. 



"Don't you have cartons?" I inqn.ire. 



"Oh, yes! There are a few in the bottom 

 of that show-case." 



And I look, and, what a sight! Plain thin 

 strawboard, black printed, " Comb honey." 



Xot a name of an apiarist on it, while the 

 thin honey-soaked paper has burst and the 

 honey is trickling out. The entire stock is 

 the least attractive of any thing in that store. 

 I feel indignant since plebeian onions, canned 

 squash, and candy at twenty cents a pound, 

 should so far outshine the classic luxury, the 

 choicest dainty of all ages — honey. , 



As my bees have been kept for the pur- 

 poses of science and education, and the sec- 

 tions thus far produced have been consumed 

 at the family table or given to friends, I had 

 not thought much of selling. Indeed, to be 

 frank, I had become somewhat nauseated, in 

 the three bee magazines of which I have been 

 for years a regular reader, by the undue pro- 

 portion of selling, by directions for making 

 a market, and a lot of other foolish talk along 

 that line to the exclusion of what seemed to 

 me the greater interests of the bee. A few 

 hives had been left free from experimenting, 

 with triple supers on; and when I took off 

 about an average of nearly one hundred fill- 

 ed and partly filled four-by-five sections 

 from each one, I felt deluged with honey. 

 It was an emliai-rassment of riches. The 

 family table and near friends were "swamp- 

 ed," and so was I in the midst of my labora- 

 tory work with several hundred sections pil- 

 ed up in every corner and on every shelf. 

 At the best my room for scientific parapher- 

 nalia was limited. 



But I consoled myself. All that talk about 

 "making a market," all that eruption of gas 

 at the conventions "how to educate the pub- 

 lic," will at last be of some avail to me. 

 Those fellows will have long ago solved th 



AN APPROPRIATE CARTON FOR COMB HONEY. 



