that neither of these methods would pay 
market gardeners, but for an amateur that 
only wants a few hundred plants, with 
little trouble, either of these plans is good, 
especially the last. 
These drain tiles cost at this place 24- 
cents a piece; the first cost is all that’s 
needed, for if properly taken care of, they 
will last for ever. They can be piled up 
in any out of the way place, and take up 
hut little more room than so many bricks, 
when not in use. I intend to try ' the tile 
on a small scale this year. 
— - *&&&-—— 
fiBEAT-GRANDMOTHER’S GARDEN. 
Come into Great-grandmother’s garden, my dears; 
The Sunflowers are nodding and beckoning away, 
The balsams are smilingly drying their teais, 
And fair Morning-Glories are greeting the day. 
How pure is the breath of the old-fashioned Pinks! 
How modest the face of the Lady’s Delight! 
Sweet-William his arm with Miss Lavender’s links, 
And whispers, “I dream of you morn, noon, and 
night.” 
The Dahlia looks on with a queenly repose, 
Unheeding the Coxcomb’s impertinent sighs, 
And fierce Tiger-Lily an angry look throws 
At Bachelor’s Button, who praises her eyes. 
The red Prince’s Feather waves heavy and slow 
By Marigolds rich as the crown of a king; 
The'Larkspur the humming-bird sways to and fro; 
Above them the Hollyhocks lazily swing. 
Come, Four-o’-Clocks, wake from your long morn¬ 
ing nap! 
The late China Asters will soon be astir; 
The Sweet Pea has ordered a simple green cap— 
Which the popipy pronounces too common for her. 
There’s Southernwood, Saffron, and long Striped 
Grass; 
The pale Thimble-Berries, and Sweet-Brier bush; 
An odor of Catnip floats by as we pass— 
Be careful! nor Grandmamma’s Chamomile crush. 
Come into Great-grandmother’s garden, my dears; 
The Sunflowers are nodding and beckoning away— 
Ah! the true Grandma’s garden is gone years and 
years— 
We have only a make-believe garden to-day. 
—Mary J. Jacques, in St . Nicholas. 
How to Italianize. 
First, procure a good queen from a reli¬ 
able breeder, and when the queen arrives, 
if in a movable frame hive, commence on 
one side of the hive and take out one or 
two frames and shakq off the bees so as to 
be sure that the black queen is not on them. 
Now have a new hive: put the two frames 
in and set in place of the old hive, and car¬ 
ry the old hive and remaining bees some 
six or eight rods away, then examine each 
frame carefully until the black queen is 
found, then kill her, or make a new colony 
by giving her about half of the frames, and 
set it some distance from where it first 
stood. Queens are mostly sent in a cage 
one inch thick and two inches square. 
Take this cage lay it on a frame of brood, 
near the top bar, and with a sharp knife 
cut out a piece of comb just as large as ’the 
cage and no larger. Now remove the two 
tacks that hold the tin gate, but do not 
let the gate slip out of place; slip the cage 
in the hole cut in the comb with the gate- 
down; be sure the gate is in the right place 
so it will be impossible for the queen to get 
out; place the frames in the hives just as 
they were, and leave it for thirty-six to 
forty-eight hours; then remove the tin 
gate, but leave the cage in position, and 
with a sharp, thin knife give two or three 
cuts just below the opening, but do not re¬ 
move any comb; now close the hive and 
the bees will know their way out; but 
before closing the hive, be careful to de¬ 
stroy all queen cells. In about five days 
open the hive and see if all is right, and 
remove the cage. The above plan is in¬ 
tended for those who have had but little 
experience at the business, and not for the 
practical apiarian.— Maryland Fanner. 
Some housekeepers are so constitutionally 
wasteful that the more flour they have the 
more they knead. 
It is said “Fortune knocks once at every 
man’s door.” In most cases it must have 
been when the man was out. 
A temperance lesson: Henry—“Say, Pa, 
can you tell me why Murphy’s liquor store 
is like a counterfeit dollar?” Father—“No: 
I give it up.” Harry — u Coz you can't pa'$£ 
it.”—The Judge. 
The man who goes fishing, and sits in a 
ciamp-inviting position on a narrow 
thwart, from early morn to dewy eve, and 
calls it fine, is the same man who never 
goes to church because the pews are not 
comfortable. 
