818 
of St. Louis, Mo., is run by a shameless quack. 
The '‘American Silk and Fruit Culturist,” 
of Philadelphia, apptars to be a humbug. It 
claims to be published at the “Rooms of the 
■Woman’s Silk Culture Association” of that 
city'; but the manager there says: “We know 
nothing about it. We never had any connec¬ 
tion whatever with the paper.” It is scooping 
in subscriptions of 82 per annum; but the sub¬ 
scribers never see it. 
for Women. 
CONDUCTED BY MIS: KAY CLARK. 
LETTERS FROM “DAISY FARM.” 
Yes. there is a lull now the holidays are 
over, and we are all settled down for the 
Wiuter; and yet, Will, these are not such 
lazy days as you imagine, and if you really 
think we have nothing to do but “doze and 
grow fat,” you are just mistaken. Why, 
man, tie daily chores on a farm, if properly 
done, occupy several hours out of the 24, and 
then there are al ways extra jobs to keep the 
time from laggiug. The latest of these ex¬ 
tras bus. been the taking of an inventory and 
balancing our books, for it is our plan to 
understand our circumstances at all times. 
The two old ledgers we have utilized for our 
farm accounts, contain a thousand and one 
things we consider worth knowing, and are in 
constant use as “ready reference.” In them 
are chronicled all our experiments and their 
outcome of success or failure. Sometimes 
those figures that won’t lie make us a little 
“blue.” but then we take our lesson, and re 
member lug it, strive to go on in a more 
economical way next time. 
This year we don’t find ourselves getting 
rich very fast, and we shall have to be satis¬ 
fied with necessaries and give up some coveted 
luxuries, for w'eevel, drouth and low prices 
all conspire to lessen our bank account. But 
there is always u bright side if we look for it, 
and so to-night we sit in onr quiet country 
home content; forgetting all the toil and dis¬ 
appointment t hat have gone before. 
Ernest is taking advantage of the thaw for 
work iu the shop, lie laid in a stock of dry- 
goods boxes—bought at a bargain in the Fall 
—boards, wire, nails, etc , and now he is mak¬ 
ing bee hives, so as not to be bothered in the 
Spring when other work is pressing. Bee¬ 
keeping is a new' industry with us, and 1 am 
going to tell you our experience. A year ago 
last Spring Ernest went, to au auction, aud 
he brought from it a shabby, ramshackle, 
weather-beaten, old Langstroth bive, contain¬ 
ing a poor, little, half-starved swarm of bees 
that had just managed to keep breathing up 
to April f>th. All the knowledge of bees the 
family possessed was contained in the old 
rhyme: 
•‘How doth the little busy bee," ete., 
so the first thing we did was to buy a bee 
book and send for some bee magazines, then 
we studied night and day—nights over the 
lmoks, and days over our unhappy little 
colony. We fed them and fussed with them, 
and the last of May we w ere ready for a 
“stvarm.” Hiviug box made, frames filled 
with foundation, and a nice, new Chaff hive 
temptingly situated; then we watched and 
waited, aud waited and watched, hardly dar¬ 
ing to go from home, except at “owl time,” 
for fear of losing tho coveted swarm. At 
last—July 5th, an nwfnl hot day. at noon— 
they swarmed; but they behaved beautifully; 
crawled into their new bivo and covered the 
frame of brood we gave them, and went to 
work on the foundation, and we thought, 
“How delightful!” and “How easy to manage 
bees if you only know how.” A loud hum at 
two o’clock disturbed our tranquility, aud lo! 
the bees w o had supposed to be all serene were 
tumbling out of their new hive pell mell. 
They clustered and were soon carefully put 
back, ami this time we were sure their queen 
was with them, “so they will stay,” we said. 
But they didn’t; before sundown they were 
out again, and again hived. We studied our 
Ixioks and decided we didn’t know much 
about bees, and if that was their -‘way” we 
didn’t want to learn. But just here Ernest 
made the remark Unit he liked honey amaz¬ 
ingly; so we reconsidered our determination 
of letting them go if they came out again, 
and instead, hunted up uuold box hive, guilt¬ 
less of paiut and nearly as shabby as the old 
Langstroth. Next morniug out eauie the 
bees agaiu, and Ibis time we gave them the 
old box, and iu that they settled down uud 
went to housekeeping. Other swarms fol 
lowed later, and we wintered three good col¬ 
onies. These increased to nine last Summer 
and did finely until August, then, after many 
false alarms, wo l'ouud robbers were really 
about, uud in spite of book advice and all our 
own ingenuity they’ succeeded iu cleaning out 
the box hive aud ruining the colony. 
We are not discouraged in spite of trouble 
and ill success, for we have not had as much 
THE BUBAL NEW-YOBKEB 
DES S 
honey as the book calls for, but are minus a 
great many pounds; yet we are more than 
ever interested in the busy bees and have not 
regretted our little venture. 
Ernest likes Chaff hives best, and makes 
them himself, buying covers and corner posts 
at a manufactory and taking bis one complete 
hive for a pattern. “The bee in my bonnet” 
has been the cause of a long letter and ban¬ 
ished all thought of the plants I intended to 
tell you of; but they can wait until another 
time. MAIlY MANN. 
“COLORED PICTURES.” 
“There they go again!” 
This explanation comes from the “head of 
the house,” and causes me to look out upon a 
procession that lias passed our bouse almost 
daily during the Summer, amusing us, accus¬ 
tomed as we ore to such sights. 
A negro woman, in rusty black calico, a 
broad straw hat, with a wash board under 
her arm. Then comes a girl of 10, with a 
much ruffled lawn, ripped from the belt, aud 
open half-way down the back, carrying a 
baby six months old, over which is spread 
“mammy’s” rusty, black crape veil. Then 
follows a girl of five with a pillow; the case is 
soiled but ruffled, and straggling in the rear 
is a rag-tug boy with a basket, who often 
stops to throw a stone at the telephone posts. 
The woman is going to wash for one of my 
neighbors, and as her baby is too young to 
leave all day, she takes it. and her girl as 
nurse; the others accompanying, hoping to 
feast on the baeou and cabbage that comes 
from the farmer’s table. Other days she 
irons or cooks dinner for compauy. Some¬ 
times her troup is larger—one carrying a 
bucket to get buttermilk, or a bundle of 
soiled clothes to be washed after the “white 
folks thiDgs” tire. 
Almost every morning Mary Ann, another 
negro woman, passes with a wooden bucket 
on her head, filled with buttermilk, a bundle 
in her baud of cold bread aud meat. She 
goes every morning to churn for the milk aud 
scraps which are given her. Now comes a 
rattle trap, spring wagon, on the front seat 
of which sit two negroes—old blind John and 
Charlie, goiug to their day’s work at chopping 
wood, driving a poor, half starved mule. 
Cuarlie has a clapboard pounding away, tak¬ 
ing breath to say, “Git up tbar.” Old blind 
John calls out, “We’ll git tbar nigh about 
midnight.” Charlie kills three or four mules 
every year; doesn’t feed them aud works 
them constantly. Sometimes the wagon is 
full of stout, able-bodied negro men, which 
makes so heavy a load that the poor old mule 
can scarcely creep along, and Charlie beating 
it at every step. This is a common sight with 
us. Old blind Johu is a very industrious 
man, ami considered one of the most reliable 
of his color. 
To the womau who washes for me 1 
say, “It was sad to think of Totsy and 
Josie (mother and daughter) dying so near 
together, wasn't it?” “When I went from 
here yesterday,” says she “I stepped in thar, 
aud soon as 1 laid eyes on Tots, I said, says I, 
‘Tots’ dying;’ then Tots, she says tooueof her 
children, ‘Git out the door, let me see out for 
the la4 time,' and the child he git. away. 
Then Tots, she say, ‘Yes, 1 see, that’ll do;’ 
then she see me aud sav.’Auut Emily, did you 
hear what the doctor said!’ I say, 'No, Tots, 1 
wa’n’l here when he was here. Nobody else 
know, what the doctor said ’ he had told her 
she could not live 24 hours. Then she turns 
her head to the wall and never say nothing 
more, but dies. Tots’s bed w as iu that corner 
like, thar, and Josie’s set here. Josie she say 
to me, ‘Aunt Emily, won’t you send me some 
buttermilk for my supperi 1 wauted some for 
my diuuer so bad.’ So l git up to start home 
for to churn and send her some. One of the 
women was itxlug Tots, aud Josie say, 'Her 
skirt ain’t ironed.’ Then the women turned 
in and washed up the things needed to pre¬ 
pare Tot’ for the grave, Josie heerd them 
talking, aud she tells them, 'Put my skirt on 
Mammy, and when I git ready for mine you 
can git something else for me.’ But they 
didn't; one of them turned m aud ironed 
Tots own clothes, poor as they were. I 
started home; t’want dark, t’was Jeetle ior’n 
sundown. 1 kept saving to myself, 'I’ll git 
home, churn that milk and send her some.’ 
But when 1 got home something in here tells 
me—pointing U» her breast—Old Eunly, 
don’t wait to chain scud your old butter¬ 
milk;’ sol git up und start some to her, out 
for'ii git thar she was goue; bat 1 felt satis¬ 
fied, cause I had it on the way.” 
“After l left, Josie say she wanted a drink, 
they raised her head, aud for’u they laid her 
back her eyes wus set aud the breath went 
right out. White folits mighty kiud to send 
them things. Both had 'galloping consump¬ 
tion.’ Used to be t’was mighty onuemmon 
for colored folks to have consumption, now' 
heap go that way. But I say, 'You had some 
one to care for you once on a time; you were 
well clothed with plenty of fat bacon to eat. 
Now some of you look real ashy, because you 
haven't, enough to eat ” 
“Truth, Lord! Truth, Lord! No greasy 
niggers these day,’cept those that lives with 
white folks 1 dunno what the trifling crit¬ 
ters are coming to—but this ain't washing. I 
must git that biler on.” u, l. s. 
|tfu’ gutotiratwnsi. 
NOW IS~THE TIME TO SLUiSCltlBE 
TO 
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