THE SOUTHERN PLANTER. 



225 



For the Southern Planter. 

 BEEHIVES. 



Mr. Editor, — I find in your last Planter a re- 

 quest from some individual for information upon 

 the comparative merits of different beehives. I 

 would recommend no hives to the gentleman 

 wishing to make honey. Direct him to build a 

 house eight, by six, ceil it well, and have a door 

 with lock and key, also two small windows, 

 two feet in length, wide enough to allow the 

 bees to pass through. In this house let him 

 place all of his hives. The darkness of the 

 house prevents the foolish rattling of tin pans 

 and bells, also the destruction of valuable fruit 

 trees and ornamental branches. After the bees 

 fill the hives, they will continue their working 

 operations on the side of the house, or on the 

 benches, never swarming again. In addition 

 to this, muriate of soda or common salt, the 

 most powerful preventive to the worm, can be 

 placed under each hive, which could not be used 

 effectually in a situation exposed to wet. The 

 room should be made as dark as possible, ad- 

 mitting no light except through the windows. 

 By attending to the above, no man will want 

 for honey. 



Yours, respectfully, Mohican. 



Mohican, Aug. 10, 1843. 



The following is taken from an old number 

 of the " Cultivator," and is worthy of preserva- 

 tion both as an admirable imitation of a style 

 which has been rendered immortal by the say- 

 ings and doings of Sam'l Suck, Esq., and for 

 the intrinsic merits of the matter. We rather 

 think Nick Bradshaw has " imigrated to a 

 warmer climate/' and we are very much mis- 

 taken if we did not meet with him about three 

 weeks ago on a piece of land that "had run 

 out," not more than forty miles from the city of 

 Richmond. 



A LOOKING GLASS. 

 J. Buel, Esq. 



Dear Sir, — When I was a boy, I can well 

 remember how I used to be induced to wash my 

 smutty face, by having a looking glass held be- 

 fore my eyes. For the same purpose, I have 

 extracted the following picture of "a farmer," 

 from the writings of that most eccentric and 

 excellent writer, " Samuel Slick," in the hopes 

 that if any of your readers should happen to 

 see any part of himself therein, that he will 

 improve by the view. Here it is. 



ft* * * That critter, when he built that 

 wrack of a house, (they call 'em a half house 

 here,) intended to add as much more to it some 

 of these days, and accordingly put his chimbley 

 Vol. III.-29 



outside, to sarve the new part as well as the 

 old. He has been too " busy" ever since, you 

 see, to remove the banking put there the first 

 fall, to keep the frost out of the cellar, and con- 

 sequently it has rotted the sills off, and the house 

 has fell away from the chimbley. and he has 

 had to prop it up with that great stick of timber, 

 to keep it from coming down on its knees alto- 

 gether. All the winders are boarded up, but 

 one, and that might as well be, for little light 

 can penetrate them old hats and red flannel pet- 

 ticoats. Look at the barn ; its broken back roof 

 has let the gable eends fall in, where thej- stand 

 staring at each other, as if they would like to 

 come closer together (and no doubt they soon 

 will,) to consult what was best to be done to 

 gain their standing in the world. Now look at 

 the stock ; there's your " improved short horns." 

 Them dirty looking, half starved geese, and 

 them draggle-tailed fowls that are so poor the 

 foxes would be ashamed to steal them — that lit- 

 tle lantern jawed, long leg'd, rabbit ear'd runt of 

 a pig, that's so weak it cant curl its tail up — that 

 old cow frame standing there with her eyes shut 

 and looking for all the world as tho' she's con- 

 templating her latter eend — (and with good 

 reason too,) and that other reddish yellow, long 

 wooled varmint, with his hocks higher than his 

 belly, that looks as if he had come to her fune- 

 ral, and which by way of distinction, his owner 

 calls a horse — is all " the stock," I guess, that 

 this farmer supports upon a hundred acres of as 

 good natural soil as ever laid out door. Now 

 there's a specimen of " Native Stock." I reck- 

 on he'll imigrate to a warmer climate soon, for 

 you see while he was wailing to finish that 

 thing you see the hen's roosting on, that he calls 

 a sled, he's had to burn up all the fence round 

 the house, but there's no danger of cattle break- 

 ing into his fields, and his old muley has larnt 

 how to sneak round among the neighbors' fields 

 o' nights, looking for an open gate or bars, to 

 snatch a mouthful now and then. For if you 

 was to mow that meadow with a razor and 

 rake it with a fine tooth comb, you couldn't get 

 enough to winter a grasshopper. 'Spose we 

 drive up to the door and have a word of chat 

 with Nick Bradshaw, and sec if he is as pro- 

 mising as outside appearances indicate. 



Observing us from the only light of glass re- 

 maining in the window, Nick lifted the door and 

 laying it aside, emerged from his kitchen, parlor 

 and smokehouse, to reconnoitre. He was a 

 tall, well built, athletic man, of great personal 

 strength and surprising activity, who looked 

 like a careless good natured fellow, fond of talk- 

 ing, and from the appearance of the little old 

 black pipe which stuck in one corner of his 

 mouth, equally so of smoking, and as he ap- 

 peared to fancy us to be candidates, no doubt he 

 was already enjoying in prospective the com- 

 forts of a neighboring tap room. Jist look at 



