THE AMERiCAJN BEE JOURNAL. 



503 



wonderfully in developing a home 

 demand for honey. 



All the names that have been sug- 

 gested thus far are objectionable. 

 " Combless honey " I think, with the 

 Editor and others, is the least so ; but 

 then it applies as well to the old- 

 fashioned ■' squeezed " honey, to adul- 

 terated honey, as to the genuine ex- 

 tracted. Besides, it does not sound 

 well. " Free honey " sounds well, and 

 it would attract many customers. In 

 such a season as last, with some bee- 

 men 1 know, it would almost answer 

 without explanation; but we could 

 not afford to advertise '-free honey " 

 this year without an explanation ! 



If we must have a nev7 name I 

 think simply "honey'' would be as 

 good as any name that has been sug- 

 gested, but there are objections to 

 any new name that can be ottered. 



'• The honey extractor "' is becoming 

 a household word among the people. 

 It is exhibited, operated and ex- 

 plained at nearly every State and 

 County Fair, and on the premises of 

 nearly every one who keeps a dozen 

 colonies of bees. I fancy the custo- 

 mer who is familiar with "this machine 

 and its product will say : " I want 

 none of your ' new fangled ' honey. 

 Give me the genuine extracted." 



Mt. Vernon.o Iowa. 



For the Amertcan Bee JoanmL 



Very Little Honey— Taxing Bees, 



CHARLES WALKER. 



On April 1, 1 took 75 colonies out 

 of the cellar, all in excellent condi- 

 tion. I have increased them to 108 

 colonies ; but, alas, as yet we have no 

 honey worth mentioning. I am feed- 

 ing some colonies that were destitute 

 of honey. Who ever heard of feeding 

 bees in July, in Michigan ? 



The clover yielded very little honey, 

 and dried up so soon. I took more 

 capped honey last season from one 

 colony than I could have taken from 

 108 colonies so far this season. We 

 have had no rain to speak of since 

 May, and the forest fires are burning 

 up what fall flowers there might 

 have been; so I think we will not have 

 much honey to " go begging " on the 

 markets this season. I have visited 

 several apiaries, and I found the same 

 results in them. If we get enough 

 from fall bloom to winter our bees on, 

 we will do well. 



Our supervisor has always assessed 

 bees in this township at $5 per colony, 

 until this season. A fellow-apiarist 

 and myself remonstrated with him, 

 and finally persuaded him to lower 

 the assessment to the still high figure 

 of $3 per colony. This is probably 

 the highest in the State, yet we had 

 shown him copies of the Bee Jour- 

 nal and letters from other bee-keep- 

 ers in this State, on the subject of 

 taxation of bees. 



Think of us paying taxes this sea- 

 son on an assessment of §5 per col- 

 ony, and no honey to doit with ! This 

 is nearly as bad as McCormick's 

 " bill " proposed sometime ago. Both 

 originators of these " bills " should 



be, and I think they are, ashamed of 

 their work. 



The fall flowers are beginning to 

 bloom. If we could only have one 

 good rain, it would help us out amaz- 

 ingly. I should like to attend the 

 convention at Ciiicago in November, 

 but it will all depend upon the next 

 5 or a weeks of the honey season. 



Bravo, P Mich., July 30, 1887. 



For tbe American Bee Joumnx 



Mlmi Willi Bees— Swarming, 



ARTHUR BARNES. 



Finding the following in the New 

 York Sun for July 20, 1887, and hav- 

 ing a good laugh over it, I send it to 

 the Bee Journal so that its readers 

 may laugh over it, too. Here is the 

 article : 



The ubiquitous Star reporter was 

 strolling along a country road last 

 Wednesday, it was just at that hour 

 when Nature in her loveliest evening 

 dress, conscious that the friendly 

 shadows conceal every blemish on her 

 fair face, strives to beguile with most 

 potent witchery the hearts of men. 

 The pale Sky was blushing with the 

 last kisses of her departed lord, a 

 tender light touched the purple hills, 

 the roadside fences were hung with 

 vines whose every leaf was jeweled 

 with dew, thick-fleeced ewes with 

 their frisky offspring disported them- 

 selves under the apple trees in the old 

 orchard, the low of kine returning 

 from the pasture, "set with slender 

 galingale," came faintly to the re- 

 porter's ears. He sat down on a 

 mossy stone, first spreading his hand- 

 kerchief carefully over it, drank in 

 the ethereal beauty of the scene, in- 

 haled the breeze laden with incense 

 stolen from closing blossoms, and 

 listened to nature's narmonies rising 

 all around— the gurgle of the brooklet, 

 the plaintive note of a whippoorwill. 

 A frog, with a grunt of disgust, 

 plunged into the brook, and the re- 

 porter smote himself. " Hang the 

 mosquitoes," he said, and. rising, had 

 walked onward a few paces when he 

 was startled by an uncouth figure 

 sitting on the fence of a farm house, 

 which was dimly visible through the 

 trees in the gathering dusk. 



The figure was sitting with its 

 elbows on its knees, and its face in 

 its hands, which were incased in large 

 fur gloves. Stocking legs covered 

 the arm from wrist to elbow, while a 

 black veil hung over the dilapidated 

 hat, after the coy fashion of Castilian 

 dames. As the reporter drew near, it 

 sat erect and shyly raised its veil. 

 Then in a voice which extreme dejec- 

 tion seemed to have robbed of sur- 

 prise, and which seemed familiar 

 somehow, it said : " Good evening, 

 Mr. Blank." 



Looking closer the reporter recog- 

 nized with astonishment the linea- 

 ments of one whom in former days be 

 had known as a policeman in New 

 York — it was solely in the way of 

 business, that is, newspaper business, 

 that the reporter had made the ac- 



quaintance of the guardian of the 

 peace ! 



" Why, McFinney, how do you do I 

 Great Scott ! What's the matter ¥ 

 Small-pox V" exclaimed the reporter, 

 as he saw the red swellings covering 

 Mr. McFinney's face, and the hand 

 that had been ungloved to clasp his 

 own. 



" Bees," said McFinney ,laconically. 



" Ah ! So you are keeping bees V 

 Very intelligent, interesting little 

 creatures I have heard." 



" Young man," said the veiled ex- 

 policeman earnestly, " my advice to 

 those about to monkey with bees is — 

 don't. I've been at 'em for two days 

 now, and I tind 'em something too in- 

 telligent ; they can find a hole in a 

 veil so quick it makes you dizzy. And 

 interesting I They're like a detective 

 story ; when they hump up and get a 

 focus on you, you want to finish 'em." 



Mr. McFinney smiled feebly at his 

 humorous conceit, and, laying his 

 hand on the reporter's arm, continued 

 confidentially ; 



" You know all the books say bee- 

 keeping is such a nice, clean, pleas- 

 ant business. So my wife thought 

 she'd like to try it. She said she 

 wanted some profit off the farm, and 

 bees wouldn't make any trouble, but 

 would just go to work and make 

 honey and money for us, and we 

 wouldn't have to hoe 'em, nor milk 

 'em, nor weed 'em, nor churn 'em, nor 

 nothing, but just let them set in the 

 sun and work. One of the neighbors 

 wanted to sell some, and we bought a 

 dozen swarms and set 'em over there." 

 Mr. McFinney indicated the place 

 with his thumb. " A little book came 

 with 'em that told how to work 'em." 



" Well, yesterday my wife thought 

 they'd been making honey for home 

 consumption long enough, and said I 

 must put in some honey boxes. I 

 went to my son Melville — he was 

 making a fish pole— and told him to 

 put 'em in ; he said he was too busy 

 to fool with bees, so I had to do it. I 

 am afraid of bees and snakes. The 

 book says to proceed boldly. I pro- 

 ceeded boldly, and took oft' a cover, 

 but the bees came t)ut, and I went 

 away. The book said, if one were 

 timid, to wear veil and gloves, so I 

 put on this rig ; but it makes a man 

 want to dodge when he sees a dozen 

 just outside making for his eyes. The 

 book said to blow a little smoke into 

 the hive to quiet the bees; but the 

 very first time I tried that the bees 

 got as mad as the— as mad," concluded 

 Mr. McFinney mildly. 



"They went for me on all sides. 

 Luckily I remembered that the book 

 said : ' It persistently assailed, re- 

 treat to the shade,' and I retreated to 

 the shade. But I got a few boxes in. 

 By and by my wife came out and said 

 the way to manage bees was not to be 

 afraid of them. Some bees came out 

 and argued with her, and she went 

 back for a veil. We tried a few more 

 and slapped them in boxes in a way 

 that made the interesting and intelli- 

 gent creatures swear like blue blazes, 

 till pretty soon a colony swarmed out, 

 and my wife said, ' I must be getting 

 back to my work.' I thoiightl would, 

 too, for quite a few had taken up 



