20 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
Apbil 8. 
taine succeeded better, I can easily believe ; but one thing he 
taught me, which I shall never, and, as I am about to im¬ 
part it, advise you never to forget. And that was how to 
cook an egg. 
“ I will first give you the mode and rationale, and then 
the benefit of a description of my own apparatus. 
“ An egg should not he boiled. Do not snppose that I 
advocate roasting it, or that I am about to afflict you with a 
dissertation on the reason or manners of the thing. An 
egg, I repeat, should not he boiled; it should only he 
scalded— vnlgo, coddled. Immerse your egg in, or, which is 
better, pour upon your egg boiling water. For time ; pro¬ 
portion your time to the size and number of your eggs, and 
the collateral accidents. If you cook your egg upon your 
breakfast-table (as de la Fontaine did in his slop-basin), 
more time will he required. But if you station your 
apparatus on a good, wholesome hob, where there is a fire, 
and so the radiation of heat is less positive, less time will 
suffice. The latter way is mine, winter and summer, and 
the differences of the surrounding circumstances equalize, 
or nearly so, the time. I keep one egg under water 0 
minutes; two, !)-£; three, 10; and four nearly 11 minutes. 
The yolk first owns the power of the caloric, and will he 
even firmly set, while the white will he milky, or at most 
tremulously gelatinous. The flavour, superior to anything 
which a plover ever deposited, will he that which the egg of 
the gallinaceous domestic was intended to have; the sub¬ 
stance, that which is delectable to the palate, and facile of 
digestion. There is perfect absence of that yutta percha 
quality, in the white especially, at once the result and the 
source of dyspepsy. I believe that eggs would he much 
more patronised, and much more wholesome, if boiling were 
discarded, and De la Fontaine’s, the Parisian, mode uni¬ 
versally adopted. I have always given especial heed that 
amongst my Lares, my private household gods, there should 
be one, my very own, especially bright and introducible, tin 
saucepan. To this I have a frame-work made, something 
very like what is called an egg-stand, which fits the sauce¬ 
pan, and is easily inserted and withdrawn. From this you 
may take the eggs when done, and pop them into egg-cups, 
or you may place the frame on a plate, and set it on the 
table. I may sum up by adding, that immersion of the eggs 
in boiling water are the conditions of success. 
“ I now lay down my pen in the most delicious state of 
self-complacency. I have taught you, and perchance through 
you the British world, how to prepare, enjoy, and digest an 
egg.”—Pt. G. S. B. 
NEW SYSTEM OF BEE-KEEPING. 
Seeing that I have already had my garden invaded by a 
swarm of bees this year—no case of desertion, but a real 
swarm, the parent hive doing well—and that so early as last 
Tuesday (March 23rd), it will not be considered premature 
if I come forward at this time to urge as many of your 
readers as were disposed in October last (from reading my 
papers in The Cottage Gardener), to try my new system 
of bee-management—to urge them, I say, to carry into 
effect this season their then half-formed resolution. We 
are already in the midst of the breeding season; and all 
| originally strong hives will, if I mistake not, be more for¬ 
ward than usual this year, so that early swarms may be 
confidently looked for. This makes me anxious to lose not 
! a day in counselling the novice—and all who intend to try 
my system are ipso facto novices—how to manage the busi¬ 
ness of swarming, according to my plan, to the greatest 
advantage, and with the least possible danger of ill success. 
As to ill success, I can promise there shall be none (I might 
say there can be none) to those who adopt my purely cottage 
system, to which I purpose confining my remarks to-day 
And I do hope (I would go so far as to entreat) that every 
intelligent bee-keeper, who has the opportunity, will give 
I that system a fair trial this year. 
' If cannot be too strongly insisted on—of this I am grow- 
| more persuaded daily—that the securing of early, and 
j withal strong swarms, is the grand secret in successful bee- 
management. It may sometimes be necessary in ungenial 
seasons to give a saucer of food occasionally to an early May 
swarm, but this small additional trouble by no means 
weakens the truth of my statement. The apiarian's motto 
should be, “ Early and strong swarms." Now I hare become 
convinced that this is only to be obtained by placing the 
hives in the warmest and most sheltered situation possible. 
Hives so placed, however, must be rich in honey, or it will 
be impossible for them to survive the great demand on their 
stores which such a position will necessarily create. Warmth 
rouses the activity of the bee, and as soon as it begins to 
move its appetite is awakened. To poor hives this appetite 
is a dangerous enemy, but to rich hives a great benefit, for 
it begets internal warmth in the hive, and so promotes early 
breeding —that is, an early and rapid increase in the popu¬ 
lation—and therefore early swarming. Poor hives, therefore, 
cannot swarm early. Perhaps the earliest swarms of all 
will come out of rich small hives, but they will of necessity 
be small swarms, or else, if large, they will be almost sure 
to ruin the parent hives. Large useful swarms can only come 
out of large rich hives, such as will hold about a bushel. 
If these are put in a warm sheltered situation, they will be 
sure to swarm early aud strongly, though perhaps a little 
later than small hives otherwise similarly circumstanced. 
But though the hives should be warmly placed, they ought 
also to be very well protected from rain and excessive heat 
by very thick hackles, yearly changed for new ones. As to 
shape, it matters not what form the hives take—let the cot¬ 
tager please himself; at the same time, the cheapest im¬ 
proved cottage hive, and the best, is the original one of Mr. 
Payne’s invention. It is flat, straight at the sides, and has 
a good-sized hole at top. A flat stone, or wooden board, 
will do very well to set the hives on; the latter, I think, 
is best. 
I need scarcely repeat (see page 12, vol. vii., of Cottage 
Gardener) that when the swarm rises, it is to be put into a 
large new hive, and set as soon as soon as hived just in the 
place of the parent slock, which must be moved to a new stand. 
This is the great peculiarity of my system. Its advantages 
are these (to repeat what I have before said)— -first, the 
swarm must become a large one, never mind bow small it 
was when it first issued, because every full-grown bee of the 
parent hive which has been out in the fields will be sure 
to find its way to it, seeing that it occupies the place where 
the old hive stood. Secondly, there will be no casts, and 
for this very reason, that the old hive was left with so few 
bees, that the young queen will not find bees enough to lead 
off another swarm at the usual period. And thirdly, although 
there were not a sufficient quantity of bees, at the usual 
time, to force the young queen to lead off a second swarm or 
cast; yet when all the eggs left by the old queen come to 
be hatched, i. c., in about three weeks time, the hive will be 
nearly as full of bees again as before, so that there will be 
both enough bees, and plenty of time, to collect a larger 
store of honey against the winter than is generally the case. 
Another peculiarity of my system is this—to keep the old 
hives every year, because they have young queens, and 
plenty of honey, which is not of the best quality, and to 
destroy or take up the swarms,because they have always the 
old queens, and of course contain virgin honey. Not only 
so, the swarms managed according to the above plan will 
(having so large a population) collect a far greater quantity 
of honey than ordinary swarms. In a fair season, a 
first-rate swarm of this kind will ordinarily gather a full 
half-a-cwt. of honey. So large a store, however, will require 
room to stow it in; the hive, therefore, should have a good- 
sized hole in its top, aud when it seems getting heavy, should 
have a small wooden-box or hive set over it, which the bees 
will often fill, besides their hive ; either of these must be 
well protected from sun and rain. The best time to take up 
swarms to plunder them is any time after the third week in 
July. Hives very rarely increase in weight after that time, 
except where heath abounds. The brimstone pit affords the 
most humane method of dealing with the doomed bees, for 
they are dead in an instant, and there is no place for cruelty. 
This is my advice to cottagers, if not to all bee-keepers. At 
the same time, all the brood-comb, while still warm, should 
be carefully cut out (the brood of jcorArcr-bees I mean), and 
put into an empty hive turned up in a pail, and so arranged 
that the combs shall not lie flat upon each other. Set the 
pail close to one of the keeping-hives, which is to be placed 
upon it for three weeks, and then to be moved back again. 
To steady the two hives so joined together in the pail, 
three or four strong stakes should be fixed in the ground 
