SOUTHERN CULTIVATOR. 
J118 
the other many insects seen about them, are there for a 
reason 1 No person denies that bees do gather 
honey from honey dew, but the other idea is entirely new, 
and if Mr. Mc-Gehek will look a little closer, he will be 
compelled to acknowledge i)i.s erior. 
Mr. McGehee seems to think that to the ignorance 
or neglect of the bee keeper is to be attributed the losses 
sustained by the ravages of the moth. While I am wil- 
ling to grant that care will do much for the welfare of the 
hive, 1 have been in the business long enough to know 
that it is impossible to keep the miller from entering the 
hive; and that just as soon as the eggs are deposited, all 
the care bestowed cannot arrest the evil. Various plans 
have been suggested to prevent birds and June-bugs from 
attacking cherries, figs, and grapes, but they sttil take j 
(iheir share. If it is so difficult to prevent a thing done in | 
©pen day, how much more so to devise a plan to destroy | 
the moth, Vithose operations are carried on in secret. j 
One portion of Mr. McG. s communication I do not ex- i 
actly understand. He says his hives yield him ten dol- 
lars per stand. Does he pursue the old plan of removing 
the top and cutting away the honey 1 If so, he is far be- 
hind the age. Mine generally average me about thirty j 
pounds per hive, but then I never interfere with the lower j 
section, leaving that for the exclusive use of the bees. 
Were I to take a portion of tliat, certainly I would get 
swore honey, but in the same ratio I would injure the pros- 
perity of my apiary. j 
In speaking of robbing, Mr. McGHnuusays thismay be j 
(done immediately after swarming season, when you can { 
rob with safety all but the young hives. With me I never j 
think of taking honey till liie celLs are perfectly sealed j 
over, which will commence i.-ikiruz place in June. I have ! 
often had young swarms to fill both sections. The honey 
which, Mr. McG. says, may be taken from the upper 
jsart of the hive, I would not consider good. That which 
i take IS always new and ota perlec’t whiteness and alto- 
gether free iVom bee bread, young bees, &c. 
Mr. McGehee seems to doubt the propriety of cultivat- 
htg anything for bees to feed on. If I thought that flow- 
ers did not afford honey, I might entertain similar doubts; 
but thinking differently, I would still recommend the sow- 
ing of a small patch of buckwheat, or which would be 
still belter, v/hite clover. j 
Other portions of Mr. McG 's communication inculcate I 
very erronecas principles, but having noticed the most 
obieciionabie, I shall let the others pass ; with the single 
remark, that if he will abandon some of liis old fashioned 
notions, lie wilt make a wortliy coadjutor in a very laud- 
able cause. Re.spectfully, V. L.dr.'.sTE. 
Cedar Grccih. near Avgunlo ^ yio.rr'k^ 1837. i 
WHAT A MAN WANTS 1.0 S WIFE T(!= KNOW. | 
There are certain things a rn m wants his wife to know, 
which are never learned at Ladies’ Serai naries, and too 
setdom, we fear, at home. One would like his wife to 
know ho’w to make a shirt. Ever so riclu it would lie a 
comfortable sensation to think' that she made it, yet there 
are some who cannot even sew on a button. To be able 
to COOK a beefsteak projterly, nr roast a joint to a turn — 
to make a savory sauce, or dish, a fricasee — to cook one’s 
hasbrmd a good dinner, in short, if need be, is what every j 
v/oman ought to know, and what very few do know, uii- I 
til obliged to learn it. It is a solemn fact, that not one 
marriageable girl in twenty can make a really good cup 
of coffee. 
It is all very well to study French, without ever being 
able to read or speak it with any facility — to learn six or 
eight sciences up to confused smattering, unavailable from 
the fear of making blunders, to learn music and drawing 
for the parlor and drawing room ; but a man w^ants more 
itiiaw flue in a wife; and the sensible lover is often fright- 
ened away from an amiable girl by a display of accomp- 
lishments, which indicate the lack of more useful acquire- 
ments . — Rural American 
THE OLD HOUSE. 
There’s a spot that I love, there’s a home that I prize 
Far better than any on earth ; 
It is bound to my heart by the holiest ties; 
And I prize, oh ! how fondly, its worth — 
’Tis not beauty, nor splendor, endears it to me, 
Oh no ! for its grandeur hath flown : 
But ’tis fondest affection that binds me to thee — 
My old home — my dear happy home ! 
Oh ! home — what dear magic is in that sweei sound , 
How closely it speaks to the heart: 
What a world of deep tenderness in thee is found; 
Oh ! who from such treasure could part 1 
Could barter the joys of a sweet home of love, 
For a path in a strange world unknown ; 
Could seek for vain pleasures and heartlessly rove. 
If they knew the real value of home I 
Some sigh to be wealthy, some seek to be great, 
Some envy what others can do ; 
But oh ! I’m content with my lowly estate ; 
For the hearts all around me are true; 
And ties that are nearest and dearest to me, 
And hearts that are truly mine own. 
With fondest affection now bind me to thee. 
My old house — iny dear happy home ! 
THE FAKHER AND HIS HOME. 
It has always been a matter of wonder to us that the 
farmer should care so little for himself, the members of 
Ills family, and his home — that he should hold tasteful 
and beautiful things in contempt — that he can abide no- 
thing which is not useful, according to his idea of useful- 
ness, and that he should sacrifice comfort evermore to 
cash. The large majority of farmers have but two tests 
by which to tr)^ men and things ; can they work — are 
useful 1 They bring up their boys and girls with the 
idea that work is the great thing — the more work a boy 
or Cl girl can do, the higher they rise in the scale of excel- 
lence. When they marry, they must marry a girl who 
can work. If she is “very smart” s’le is considered u 
prize. The prevalent fancy is particularly pleased if she 
lias been known to lift a fivc-pail kettle from the fires and 
get out a large washing before breakfast. It is all work, 
work, work — nothing but work. She commences her 
life ambitiously, determined to be as smart as her neigh- 
bors, does everything about her house, herself, bears 
children, takes care of them, and actually wears out her 
life with work, and, after death lives in the memory of 
her friends, as a woman wlio was “mighty smart at work” 
in her day. 
A fanner's home is .rarely beautiful and tasteful in its 
externals. So almost universally is this the case, that 
when an instance is found it is the theme of unwonted 
delight, and the cause of special remark. The barn very 
likely fronts the house acro.s.s the street. 
Carts and wagons stand upon ground which sliould be 
occupied by shade trees. There is no door-yard. There 
are no flowers, Everything is for use— every thing sug- 
gests work, and work oniju There is no indi'-ation ofa !de 
above this work — nothing to sliow the existence ofa want 
above eating and drinking. The soul necessarily grovv.s 
small under the cull pressure ofa life like this. It is a iif'e 
contemptible and unworthy in every respect in which it 
may be regarded. If this unmiodfuliiess of comfort, and 
the polite amenities life, were the result of simple indifler 
ence, the case would be more hopeful; but there largely 
