February 0.] 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
295 
Some of the very poorest people I know are the cleanest, 
while others who are in reality better off, are not fit to be 
seen. A clean gown, or coat, if ever so old, looks beautiful 
upon the cottager, particularly if it is well patched and 
mended. I look upon such a sight with more pleasure than 
on the finest picture, because it is so honourable. Rags are 
not the sign of poverty half so much as of idleness and 
extravagance; and when I see clean, well-patched clothes, 
they excito the liveliest admiration and respect. Yve may 
always expect, too, to find the cottage of such persons as 
neat and nice as themselves, and their children under better 
control than those of their untidy neighbour. The ;principle 
of neatness can scarcely be strong in the mind, without 
peeping out in everything. 
We once called at a cottage in the village to inquire after 
a man who, we were told, was ill. It so happened that we 
did not know the family, but we heard that Willoughby was 
ill, and unable to work, and we stopped to make inquiries. 
On opening the door, I shall never forget the impression it 
gave us. They were at tea, the cloth on the table was snow- 
white, the cups and saucers were brightly clean, and the 
loaf, the morsel of lard on a plate, the knife and the 
spoons, were equally delicate. The husband’s shirt which 
seemed to have been lately ironed was ailing at the fire, and 
was as snowy as the table cloth. The whole kitchen was 
so clean, the chairs, dresser, clock case, See., shone so 
brightly, and everything had an air of so much neatness, 
that our first exclamation was of delight at such a scene. 
Poor Willoughby had been out of work some time, and they 
had two or three little children to support, yet the wife 
could not be dirty or untidy, and the scanty food they 
possessed was served up comfortably. The man looked 
happy under his trial, and seemed gratified at the praise we 
could so well bestow on his wife’s good management; and to 
some observation made, he replied, “ I never have come 
home to an untidy house, ma’am, since I’ve been married.” 
What an honourable and pleasing testimony to the exertions 
of the wife and mother! and what checks to the beei'-bouse 
would such wives and mothers be! The Willoughbys are 
poor labourers, not in the least differing from their neigh¬ 
bours, except in the habits of the wife, who is always neat 
in her dress, and keeps her husband’s clothes in the same 
good order. They are next door neighbours to Isaac C-, 
of whom I have already spoken; and are always ready to do 
them kindnesses in then - old age. After Isaac’s accident, 
when ho was thrown behind hand with his allotment ground, 
I observed Willoughby and his wife working on the land with 
all their might, with their little child bundled up in a cloak, 
laying on the ground near them. I found they were helping 
Isaac, who could not work himself to get in his crop, and 
were both digging away as fast as they could to lose no time, 
and seemed only too happy to be of so much use to their 
sick neighbour. 
Now it is quite as easy for every labouring man’s wife to 
be clean and neat, as for Mrs. Willoughby. It is quite as 
easy for them to make their husbands comfortable in that 
way as for her. Poor and scanty food may be put before 
him as neatly and as pleasantly as if it was plentiful and 
savoury. The house, and the furniture, and the clothes may 
be as clean and shining as those of the Willoughbys, for 
one man with a family, dependant upon his daily labour, is 
neither better nor worse than another, as far as outward cir¬ 
cumstances are concerned. The difference is only caused 
by the habits of the people themselves. An untidy, 
slothful, slatternly woman will be miserable and destitute, 
and dirty, and starving, where a clean active one will be 
respectable, decently clothed, cheerful and contented. In 
my next paper I will give a further proof of this assertion 
by sketching the characters and habits of two of “our 
villagers,” which will, I hope, place in a striking light the 
advantages of cleanliness over dirt, and the possibility of 
maintaining the former under almost similar circumstances 
of sickness and poverty. Very happy shall I be, if any of my 
cottage readers will think over what I have said, and endea¬ 
vour to follow the example of Eliza Willoughby. They will 
not find it a disagreeable task, although it may at first be 
difficult; and if they strive with a desire to do their best in 
the station where their Heavenly Father has placed them, it 
will cheer them on, and lighten their toil. It is our duty to 
make the most of everything we have, and to improve every 
situation by lawful means; and in the humbler station of life 
we shall be doing a part of our duty to God and man, by 
making our homes and our families as comfortable and as 
happy as we can. Bat, without the grace of God, we can do 
nothing. 
SHADING BEES AND FUMIGATION. 
I have read the communication in your last number of 
“A Country Solicitor” on the subject of aspect for bees. 
One sees daily, almost, such frequent instances of failure in 
experimenting on bees on the part of some proprietors, and of 
success in trying the very same thing on the part of others, 
that it is really often difficult to discriminate who is right, or 
where the fault rests. Probably there is none anywhere; 
for so many points are to be,taken into account that he must 
be a bold man who prescribes any one universal law in a41 
localities. I am not about to contend there was nothing 
amiss in the case cited by your correspondent of his shaded 
hive; but I incline to the opinion that he draws a wrong 
inference. Our friend says his “ bees had an excellent and 
uninterrupted success : they worked well, and as hard as 
any hive in his collection." Now, would this have been the 
case if there had been anything materially wrong in position, 
or in the domestic arrangements of the family ? We must 
look for some other cause; for I cannot for an instant 
imagine that these bees, working so well, would have been 
found by hundreds “ lying on the ground and paralyzed the 
moment they left the direct influence of the sun.” It would 
thus appear that in the short time, the very few moments 
during which the bees were flying from the sunshine to the 
shaded hive, their “ powers of endurance ” were exhausted. 
This is utterly at variance with all probability and all expe¬ 
rience. Now, I can tell your correspondent that I have 
seen precisely the same thing where the hive stood in a 
broiling sun, especially towards the evening, when the bees 
return home loaded and fatigued. At that time a slight 
puff of wind or draft of air is sufficient to prevent their 
reaching the hive, and they fall with little chance of rising. 
The position chosen for the stock belonging to the “ Country 
Solicitor” does appear to unravel the mystery, and to be the 
very one to cause all imaginable currents to sweep around 
the hive. Or if any overhanging boughs of the tree, or ivy, 
intercepted the line of flight of the bees, the mischief is 
explained at once. If bees require exposure to the sun, 
how is it with them in such houses as Mr. Golding and 
others recommend—entirely closed up from its rays, and 
the hives facing any way or all ways ? The interior warmth 
of a hive is always sufficient, and external heat the bees will 
escape from if they can. The great matter is security from 
any wind; and no doubt this is wanted to the greatest extent 
where a north aspect is chosen. 
I am induced to add a word regarding your other cor¬ 
respondent’s letter, “A Country Curate.” Nearly the same 
observation might be made as to the conflicting opinions 
among apiarians relative to the practice of fumigation—some 
finding it to answer well, and others either imperfectly or 
not at all. I was led to try it, some years ago, after witness¬ 
ing its success at the apiary of the then existing “ Oxford 
Apiarian Society,” where the curator practised fumigation 
in making autumnal unions, often, as he said, with the loss 
of “ scarcely a bee.” I at once went to work in a similar 
way, and never had the difficulty spoken of by your corres¬ 
pondent. There must have been something wrong, either 
in his material, or apparatus, or mode of proceeding, for my 
experience has always resulted in a complete stupefying of 
every bee within reach of the smoke. I have even been 
rather wanton in testing its effects; for several times I used 
it in the middle of the day, by way of experiment, on a side 
box where the bees were working. These dropped down 
like so many peas, as I saw through the window, and so 
remained, probably a quarter of an hour or more, when I 
opened the ventilator, and they recovered and crawled up 
the combs again, no worse that I could see. Neither could 
I observe that the bees were either weakened by the process 
(as some apiarians have said) or in the least degree irritated. 
To me they seemed to have no more consciousness or recol¬ 
lection of the trick played upon them than a man who has 
had a fit, and recovered. I own my surprise at the observa- 
