Plate I.

E. W. Robinson Delt. et Scp. 1865.

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THE APIARY;
OR,
BEES, BEE-HIVES, AND BEE-CULTURE.

BEING A FAMILIAR ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF BEES AND THE
MOST IMPROVED METHODS OF MANAGEMENT, WITH FULL
DIRECTIONS, ADAPTED FOR THE COTTAGER, FARMER,
OR SCIENTIFIC APIARIAN.

By ALFRED NEIGHBOUR.

"Beaucoup de gens aiment les abeilles; je n'ai vu personne qui lea aima médiocrement: on se passionne pour elles."—Gelieu.

LONDON:
KENT AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW;
GEO. NEIGHBOUR AND SONS,
149, REGENT STREET, AND 127, HIGH HOLBORN;
AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1866.

FOLKARD AND SON,
PRINTERS,
DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

T is a source of much gratification to find that we are called upon to prepare another edition of this work in less than twelve months from its first publication.

No greater proof could have been afforded of the rapid advance which the pursuit of bee-keeping is now making in this country.

In the hope of rendering the present volume more useful and instructive than its predecessor, and also in acknowledgment of the kind approbation with which our earlier efforts have been received, we have made several additions, and trust that the same may prove acceptable to our readers.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

UR apology for preparing a bee-book is a very simple one. We are so frequently applied to for advice on matters connected with bees and bee-hives, that it seemed likely to prove a great advantage, alike to our correspondents and ourselves, if we could point to a "handy book" of our own, which should contain full and detailed replies sufficient to meet all ordinary inquiries. Most of the apiarian manuals possess some special excellence or other, and we have no wish to disparage any of them; yet, in all, we have found a want of explanations relating to several of the more recent improvements.

It has more especially been our aim to give explicit and detailed directions on most subjects connected with the hiving and removing of bees, and also, to show how, by judicious application of the "depriving" system, the productive powers of the bees may be enormously increased.

We need say little here as to the interest that attaches to the apiary as a source of perennial pleasure for the amateur naturalist. Many of the hives and methods of management are described with a direct reference to this class of bee-keepers, so that, besides plain and simple directions suitable for cottagers with their ordinary hives, this work will be found to include instructions useful for the scientific apiarian, or, at least, valuable, for those who desire to gain a much wider acquaintance with the secrets of bee-keeping than is now usually possessed. We would lay stress on the term "acquaintance," for there is nothing in the management of the various bar-and-frame hives which is at all difficult when frequent practice has rendered the bee-keeper familiar with them. Such explicit directions are herein given as to how the right operations may be performed at the right times, that a novice may at once commence to use the modern hives. The word "new-fangled" has done good service for the indolent and prejudiced, but we trust that our readers will be of a very different class. Let them give a fair trial to the modern appliances for the humane and depriving system of bee-keeping, and they will find offered to them an entirely new field of interest and observation. At present, our continental neighbours far surpass us as bee-masters; but we trust that the following season, if the summer be fine, will prove a turning point in the course of English bee-keeping. There is little doubt that a greater number of intelligent and influential persons in this country will become bee-keepers than has ever been the case before.

Our task would have lost half its interest, did we not hope that it would result in something beyond the encouragement of a refined and interesting amusement for the leisurely classes. The social importance of bee-keeping, as a source of pecuniary profit for small farmers and agricultural labourers, has never been appreciated as it deserves. Yet these persons will not, of themselves, lay aside the bungling and wasteful plan of destroying the bees, or learn without being taught the only proper method, that of deprivation. Their educated neighbours, when once interested in bee-keeping, will be the persons to introduce the more profitable system of humane bee-keeping. The clergy especially, as permanent residents in the country, may have great influence in this respect. There is not a rural or suburban parish in the kingdom in which bee-keeping might not be largely extended, and the well-being of all but the very poorest inhabitants would be greatly promoted. Not only would the general practice of bee-keeping add largely to the national resources, but that addition would chiefly fall to the share of those classes to whom it would be of most value. Moreover, in the course of thus adding to their income, the uneducated classes would become interested in an elevating and instructive pursuit.

It is curious to observe that honey, whether regarded as a manufactured article or as an agricultural product, is obtained under economical conditions of exceptional advantage. If regarded as a manufactured article, we notice that there is no outlay required for "labour," nor any expense for "raw material." The industrious labourers are eager to utilize all their strength: they never "combine" except for the benefit of their master, they never "strike" for wages, and they provide their own subsistence. All that the master-manufacturer of honey has to do financially is, to make a little outlay for "fixed capital" in the needful "plant of hives" and utensils—no "floating capital" is needed. Then, on the other hand, if we regard honey as an agricultural product, it presents as such a still more striking contrast to the economists' theory of what are the "requisites of production." Not only is there no outlay needed for wages, and none for raw material, but there is nothing to be paid for "use of a natural agent." Every square yard of land in the United Kingdom may come to be cultivated, as in China, but no proprietor will ever be able to claim "rent" for those "waste products" of the flowers and leaves which none but the winged workers of the hive can ever utilize.

The recent domestication in England of the Ligurian or "Italian Alp" bee adds a new and additional source of interest to bee-culture. We have, therefore, gone pretty fully into this part of the subject; and believe that what is here published with regard to their introduction embodies the most recent and reliable information respecting them that is possessed by English apiarians.[1]

[1] Some of our apiarian friends may be inclined to be discouraged from cultivating the Ligurian bees in consequence of the liability to their becoming hybridised when located in proximity to the black bees. We can dispel these fears by stating that we have not unfrequently found that hybrid queens possess the surprising fecundity of the genuine Italian ones, whilst the English stocks in course of time become strengthened by the infusion of foreign blood.

We are under many obligations for the advice and assistance that we have on many occasions received from Mr. T. W. Woodbury, of Exeter, whose apiarian skill is unrivalled in this country. Our acknowledgments are also due to Mr. Henry Taylor, author of an excellent "Bee-keeper's Manual," for his help and counsel during the earlier years of our apiarian experience. Both the before-mentioned gentlemen have frequently communicated to us their contrivances and suggestions, without thought of fee or reward for them. In common with most recent writers on bee-culture, we are necessarily largely indebted to the standard works of Huber and succeeding apiarians. From the more recent volume of the Rev. L. L. Langstroth we have also obtained useful information. But having ourselves, of later years, had considerable experience in the manipulation and practical management of bees, we are enabled to confirm or qualify the statement of others, as well as to summarize information gleaned from many various sources.

Let it be understood, that we have no patented devices to push: we are free to choose out of the many apiarian contrivances that have been offered of late years, and we feel perfectly at liberty to praise or blame as our experience warrants us in doing. It does not follow that we necessarily disparage hives which are not described herein; we have sought, as much as possible, to indicate the principles on which good hives must be constructed, whatever their outward size or shape. All through the work, we have endeavoured to adopt the golden rule of "submission to Nature" by reference to which all the fancied difficulties of bee-keeping may be easily overcome. In none of the attempts of men to hold sway over natural objects is the truth of Bacon's leading doctrine more beautifully illustrated than in the power that the apiarian exercises in the little world of bees.

Some persons may consider we have used too many poetical quotations in a book dealing wholly with matters of fact. We trust, however, that the examination of the extracts will at once remove that feeling of objection.

We venture to hope that the following pages contain many valuable hints and interesting statements which may tend to excite increased and renewed attention to the most useful and industrious of all insects.

Although bees have neither reason nor religion for their guide, yet from them man may learn many a lesson of virtue and industry, and may even draw from them thoughts suggestive of trust and faith in God.

We beg leave to conclude our preface, and introduce the subject, by the following extract from Shakspeare, who, without doubt, kept bees in that garden at Stratford wherein he used to meditate:—

"So work the honey-bees;

Creatures that, by a rule in Nature, teach

The art of order to a peopled kingdom.

They have a king and officers of sorts;

Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;

Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;

Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,

Make boot upon the Summer's velvet buds,

Which pillage they, with merry march, bring home

To the tent royal of their emperor:

Who, busied in his majesty, surveys

The singing masons building roofs of gold;

The civil citizens kneading up the honey;

The poor mechanic porters crowding in

Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;

The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum.

Delivering o'er to executors pale

The lazy, yawning drone."

Shakspeare's Henry V., Act I., Scene 2.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

SECTION I.

SECTION II.

SECTION III.
Modern Bee-Hives.

SECTION IV.
Exterior Arrangements and Apparatus.

SECTION V.

SECTION VI.
Miscellaneous Information.

APPENDIX.
Testimonials of the Press.

ERRATUM.

At eleventh line from bottom of [page 111], for "three," read "those."

[Transcriber Note: Correction seems to have been made.]

DESCRIPTION OF PLATES.

[PLATE I.]—(Frontispiece.)

[PLATE II.]—Page 31.

THE APIARY;
OR,
BEES, BEE-HIVES, AND BEE-CULTURE.

HERE are two classes of persons for whom bee-culture should have a strong interest, and two distinct purposes for which the pursuit may be followed. First, there is the cottager or small farmer, who, in thousands of instances, might add considerably to his income by bee-keeping; and, secondly, there is the man of "retired leisure" and refinement, who, in the personal tendance of an apiary, would find an easy and interesting occupation, and one which could not fail to quicken his faculties of general scientific observation. Moreover, in contemplating the wonderful skill, industry, and prevision of his insect-artisans, the bee-keeper would find in his apiary constant illustrations of creative wisdom.

Amongst the humbler classes in the rural districts, the neglect of bee-keeping is to be attributed to an exaggerated idea of the trouble needful for the care of a few hives, and also to ignorance of the easier and more profitable methods of modern management. Many of the wealthier country or suburban residents, also, are averse to the personal trouble which they fancy needful in keeping an apiary; and, perhaps, some gentlemen are more afraid than they would like to own of that very efficient weapon of defence with which the honey bee is provided. But the prejudices against bees are quite unnecessary; bees are as tractable as they are intelligent, and it is the purpose of this little book to show that bee-culture is an easy and safe, as well as a deeply interesting, pursuit. Possibly, also, some who do us the favour to read our detailed explanations will see how the rural clergyman, or the benevolent landlord, who keeps an apiary of his own, may be of signal service to his poorer neighbours in explaining to them the mysteries of bee-keeping.

I.—NATURAL HISTORY OF THE INHABITANTS OF THE HIVE.

VERY hive or bee colony comprises in summer three distinct classes of bees, each class having functions peculiar to itself, and which are essential to the well-being of the whole community. As each bee knows its own proper duties, they all work harmoniously and zealously together, for the common weal. Certain apparent exceptions to the good-fellowship of the bees will be hereafter noticed, but those arise out of essential conditions in the social economy of the bee community. That honey bees should live in society, as they do in hives, is absolutely needful. A bee, in an isolated condition, is a very helpless, delicate little creature, soon susceptible of cold, and paralysed thereby, unless able to join her companions before night comes on. By congregating in large numbers, bees maintain warmth, whatever the external temperature may be.

The three classes of bees are:—the queen-bee, with the pupæ or embryos intended for queens; the working bees; and the drones, or male bees.

THE QUEEN.

Appropriately styled, by German bee-keepers, the mother-bee, is the only perfectly developed female among the whole population of each separate colony. Thus her majesty indisputably sways her sceptre by a divine right, because she lives and reigns in the hearts of loving children and subjects.

Dr. Evans[2] introduces the queen-bee to our notice thus:—

"First of the throng, and foremost of the whole.

One 'stands confest the sovereign and the soul.'"

[2] Dr. Evans—who may be styled the poet-laureate of the bees—lived at Shrewsbury, where he practised as a physician. His poem on bees is written with great taste and careful elaboration, and it describes the habits of bees with a degree of accuracy only attainable after continuous scientific observation.

The queen may very readily be distinguished from the rest of the bees by the greater length of her body and the comparative shortness of her wings; her legs are longer, and are not furnished with either brushes or baskets as those of the working bee, for, being constantly fed by the latter, she does not need those implements; the upper surface of her body is of a brighter black than the other bees, whilst her colour underneath is a yellowish brown;[3] her wings, which do not extend more than half the length of her body, are sinewy and strong; her long abdomen tapers nearly to a point; her head is rounder, her tongue more slender, and not nearly so long, as that of the working bee, and her sting is curved. Her movements are measured and majestic; as she moves in the hive the other bees form a circle round her, none venturing to turn their backs upon her, but all anxious to show that respect and attention due to her rank and station. Whenever, in the exercise of her sovereign will, the queen wishes to travel amongst her subjects, she experiences no inconvenience from overcrowding; although the part of the hive to which she is journeying may be the most populous, way is immediately made, the common bees tumbling over each other to get out of her path, so great is their anxiety not to interfere with the royal progress.

[3] Yellow Italian queens form an exception in point of colour. See frontispiece, fig. I.

It is the chief function of the queen to lay the eggs from which all future bees originate, the multiplication of the species being the purpose of her existence; and she follows it up with an assiduity similar to that with which the workers construct combs or collect honey. A queen is estimated to lay in the breeding season from 1,500 to 2,000 eggs a-day, and in the course of one year is supposed to produce more than 100,000 bees. This is indeed a vast number; but when there is taken into consideration the great number required for swarms, the constant lessening of their strength by death in various ways, and the many casualties attending them in their distant travels in search of the luscious store, it does not seem that the case is over-stated.

In a Glass Unicomb Hive,—which we shall hereinafter describe,—all the movements of the queen-bee may be traced; she may be seen thrusting her head into a cell to discover whether it be occupied with an egg or honey, and if empty, she turns round in a dignified manner and inserts her long body—so long, that she is able to deposit the egg at the bottom of the cell; she then passes on to another, and so continues industriously multiplying her laborious subjects. It not unfrequently happens when the queen is prolific, and if it be an early season, that many eggs are wasted for want of unoccupied cells; for in that case the queen leaves them exposed at the bottom of the hive, when they are greedily devoured by the bees.

The queen-bee, unlike the great majority of her subjects, is a stayer at home; generally speaking, she only quits the hive twice in her life. . The first occasion is on the all-important day of her marriage, which always takes place at a great height in the air, and generally on the second or third day of her princess-life; she never afterwards leaves the hive, except to lead off an emigrating swarm. Evans, with proper loyalty, has duly furnished a glowing epithalamium for the queen-bee thus:—

"When noon-tide Sirius glares on high,

Young love ascends the glowing sky,

From vein to vein swift shoots prolific fire,

And thrills each insect fibre with desire;

Then Nature, to fulfil thy prime decree,

Wheels round, in wanton rings, the courtier Bee;

Now shyly distant, now with bolder air,

He woos and wins the all-complying fair;

Through fields of ether, veiled in vap'ry gloom

They seek, with amorous haste, the nuptial room;

As erst the immortal pair, on Ida's height,

Wreath'd round their noon of joy ambrosial night."

The loyalty and attachment of bees to their queen is one of their most remarkable characteristics; they constantly supply her with food, and fawn upon and caress her, softly touching her with their antennæ—a favour which she occasionally returns. When she moves about the hive, all the bees through whom she successively passes pay her the same homage; those whom she leaves behind in her track close together, and resume their accustomed occupations.

The majestic deportment of the queen-bee and the homage paid to her is, with a little poetic licence, thus described by Evans:—

"But mark, of royal port and awful mien,

Where moves with measured pace the insect Queen!

Twelve chosen guards, with slow and solemn gait,

Bend at her nod, and round her person wait."

This homage is, however, only paid to matron queens. Whilst they continue princesses, they receive no distinctive marks of respect. Dr. Dunbar, the noted Scotch apiarian, observed a very striking instance of this whilst experimenting on the combative qualities of the queen-bee "So long," says he, "as the queen which survived the rencontre with her rival remained a virgin, not the slightest degree of respect or attention was paid her; not a single bee gave her food; she was obliged, as often as she required it, to help herself; and in crossing the honey cells for that purpose, she had to scramble, often with difficulty, over the crowd, not an individual of which got out of her way, or seemed to care whether she fed or starved: but no sooner did she become a mother, than the scene was changed, and all testified towards her that most affectionate attention, which is uniformly exhibited to fertile queens."

The queen-bee, though provided with a sting, never uses it on any account, except in combat with her sister-queens. But she admits of no rival to her throne; almost her first act, on coming forth from the cell, is an attempt to tear open and destroy the cells containing the pupæ of princesses likely to become competitors. Should it so happen that another queen of similar age does exist in the hive at the same time, the two are speedily brought into contact with each other, in order to fight it out and decide by a struggle, mortal to one of them, which is to be the ruler;—the stronger of course is victorious, and remains supreme. This, it must be admitted, is a wiser method of settling the affair than it would be to range the whole hive under two distinct banners, and so create a civil war, in which the members of the rival bands would kill and destroy each other for matters they individually have little or no concern about: for the bees care not which queen it is, so long as they are certain of having one to rule over them and perpetuate the community.

After perusing the description given above of the attachment of bees to their queen, it may be easy to imagine the consternation a hive is thrown into when deprived of her presence. The bees first make a diligent search for their monarch in the hive, and then afterwards rush forth in immense numbers to seek her. When such a commotion is observed in an apiary, the experienced bee-master will repair the loss by giving a queen: the bees have generally their own remedy for such a calamity, in their power of raising a new queen from amongst their larvæ; but if neither of these means be available, the whole colony dwindles and dies. The following is the method by which working bees provide a successor to the throne when deprived of their queen by accident, or in anticipation of the first swarm, which is always led by the old queen:—

They select, when not more than three days old, an egg or grub previously intended for a worker-bee, and then enlarge the cell so selected by destroying the surrounding partitions; they thus form a royal cradle, in shape very much like an acorn cup inverted. The chosen embryo is then fed liberally with a peculiar description of nurture, called by naturalists "royal jelly"—a pungent food, prepared by the working bees exclusively for those of the larvae that are destined to become candidates for the honour of royalty. Should a queen be forcibly separated from her subjects, she resents the interference, refuses food, pines, and dies.

The whole natural history of the queen-bee is in itself a subject that will well repay for continuous study. Those who desire to follow it, we would refer to the complete works of Huber—the greatest of apiarians,—Swammerdam, Bevan, Langstroth, &c. The observations upon the queen-bee needful to verify the above-mentioned facts can only be made in hives constructed for the purpose, of which the "Unicomb Observatory Hive" is the best. In ordinary hives the queen is scarcely ever to be seen; where there are several rows of comb, she invariably keeps between them, both for warmth and to be more secure from danger. The writer has frequently observed in stocks which have unfortunately died, that the queen was one of the last to expire; and she is always more difficult to gain possession of than other bees, being by instinct taught that she is indispensable to the welfare of her subjects.

The queen enjoys a far longer life than any of her subjects, her age generally extending to four, or even five years. The drones, which are mostly hatched in the early spring, seldom live more than three or four months, even if they should escape the sting of the executioner, to which they generally fall victims. The worker-bee, it is now a well-ascertained fact, lives from six to eight months, in no case exceeding the latter; so that we may reckon that the bees hatched in April and May expire about the end of the year; and it is those of the autumn who carry on the duties of the hive until the spring and summer, that being the time when the greatest number of eggs are laid. The population of a hive is very small during the winter, in comparison with the vast numbers gathering produce in the summer,—produce which they themselves live to enjoy but for a short period. So that not only, as of old, may lessons of industry be learned from bees, but they also teach self-denial to mankind, since they labour for the community rather than for themselves. Evans, in describing the age of bees, thus paraphrases the well known couplet of Homer, in allusion to the fleeting generations of men:—

"Like leaves on trees the race of bees is found.

Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;

Another race the spring or fall supplies,

They droop successive, and successive rise."

THE DRONE.

The drones are male bees; they possess no sting, are more hairy and larger than the common bee, and may be easily distinguished by their heavy motion, thick-set form, and louder humming. Evans thus describes the drones:—

"Their short proboscis sips

No luscious nectar from the wild thyme's lips;

From the lime leaf no amber drops they steal,

Nor bear their grooveless thighs the foodful meal:

On others' toils, in pampered leisure, thrive

The lazy fathers of the industrious hive;

Yet oft, we're told, these seeming idlers share

The pleasing duties of parental care;

With fond attention guard each genial cell,

And watch the embryo bursting from the shell."

But Dr. Evans had been "told" what was not correct when he sought to dignify drones with the office of "nursing fathers,"—that task is undertaken by the younger of the working bees. No occupation falls to the lot of the drones in gathering honey, nor have they the means provided them by Nature for assisting in the labours of the hive. The drones are the progenitors of working bees, and nothing more; so far as is known, that is the only purpose of their short existence.

In a well-populated hive the number of drones is computed at from one to two thousand. "Naturalists," says Huber, "have been extremely embarrassed to account for the number of males in most hives, and which seem only a burden to the community, since they appear to fulfil no function. But we now begin to discern the object of Nature in multiplying them to such an extent. As fecundation cannot be accomplished within the hive, and as the queen is obliged to traverse the expanse of the atmosphere, it is requisite that the males should be numerous, that she may have the chance of meeting some one of them in her flight. Were only two or three in each hive, there would be little probability of their departure at the same instant with the queen, or that they would meet her in their excursions; and most of the females might thus remain sterile." It is important for the safety of the queen-bee that her stay in the air should be as brief as possible: her large size and slowness of flight render her an easy prey to birds. It is not now thought that the queen always pairs with a drone of the same hive, as Huber seems to have supposed. The drone that happens to be the selected husband is by no means so fortunate as at first sight may appear, for it is a law of nature that the bridegroom does not survive the wedding-day. Her majesty, although thus left, a widowed, is by no means a sorrowful, bride, for she soon becomes the happy mother of a large family. It cannot be said that she pays no respect to the memory of her departed lord, for she never marries again. Once impregnated,—as is the case with most insects,—the queen-bee continues productive during the remainder of her existence. It has, however, been found that though old queens cease to lay worker eggs, they may continue to lay those of drones. The swarming season being over,—that is about the end of July,—a general massacre of the "lazy fathers" takes place. Dr. Bevan, in the "Honey Bee," observes on this point: "The work of the drones being now completed, they are regarded as useless consumers of the fruits of others' labour; love is at once converted into hate, and a general proscription takes place. The unfortunate victims evidently perceive their danger, for they are never at this time seen resting in one place, but darting in and out of the hive with the utmost precipitation, as if in fear of being seized."

Their destruction is thought, by some, to be caused by their being harassed until they quit the hive; but Huber says he ascertained that the death of the drones was caused by the stings of the workers. Supposing the drones come forth in May, which is the average period of their being hatched, their destruction takes place somewhere about the commencement of August, so that three months is the usual extent of their existence; but should it so happen that the usual development of the queen has been retarded, or that the hive has by chance been deprived of her, the massacre of the drones is deferred. In any case, the natural term of the life of drone-bees does not exceed four months, so that they are all dead before the winter, and are not allowed to be useless consumers of the general store.

THE WORKER-BEE.

The working bees form, by far, the most numerous class of the three kinds contained in the hive, and least of all require description. They are the smallest of the bees, are dark brown in colour, or nearly black,[4] and much more active on the wing than are either drones or queens. The usual number in a healthy hive varies from twelve to thirty thousand; and, previous to swarming, exceeds the larger number. The worker-bee is of the same sex as the queen, but is only partially developed. Any egg of a worker-bee—by the cell being enlarged, as already described, and the "royal jelly" being supplied to the larva—may be hatched into a mature and perfect queen. This, one of the most curious facts connected with the natural history of bees, may be verified in any apiary by most interesting experiments, which may be turned to important use. With regard to the supposed distinctions between "nursing" and working bees, it is now agreed that it only consists in a division of labour, the young workers staying at home to feed the larvæ until they are themselves vigorous enough to range the fields in quest of supplies. But, for many details of unfailing interest, we must again refer our readers to the standard works on bees that have already been named.

[4] Italian workers form an exception in point of colour. See [Plate I., fig. 2].

THE EGGS OF BEES.

It is necessary that some explanation should be given as to the existence of the bee before it emerges from the cell.

The eggs ([Plate II., fig. 7]) of all the three kinds of bees, when first deposited, are of an oval shape, and of a pearly-white colour. In four or five days the egg changes to a worm, and in this stage is known by the names of larva or grub ([Plate II., fig. 8]), in which state it remains four to six days more. During this period it is fed by the nurse-bees with a mixture of farina and honey, a constant supply of which is given to it. The next transformation is to the nymph or pupa form. The nurse-bees now seal up the cells with a preparation similar to wax, and then the pupa spins round itself a film or cocoon, just as a silkworm does in its chrysalis state. The microscope shows that this cradle-curtain is perforated with very minute holes, through which the baby-bee is duly supplied with air. No further attention on the part of the bees is now requisite, except a proper degree of heat, which they take care to keep up—a position for the breeding cells being selected in the centre of the hive, where the temperature is likely to be most congenial.

Twenty-one days after the egg is first laid (unless cold weather should have retarded it) the bee quits the pupa state, and, nibbling its way through the waxen covering that has enclosed it, comes forth a winged insect. The eggs of drones require twenty-four days, and those of queens sixteen days, to arrive at maturity, and are hatched in warm summer weather, a higher temperature being necessary. In the Unicomb Observatory Hives, the young bees may distinctly be seen as they literally fight their way into the world, for the other bees do not take the slightest notice, nor afford them any assistance. We have frequently been amused in watching the eager little new-comer, now obtruding its head, and anon compelled to withdraw into the cell to escape being trampled on by the apparently unfeeling throng, until at last it has succeeded in making its exit. The little grey creature, after brushing and shaking itself, enters upon its duties in the hive, such as the nursing before alluded to, or secreting wax, and in (say) a week issues forth to the more laborious occupation of gathering honey in the fields—thus early illustrating that character for industry which has been proverbial at least since the days of Aristotle, and which has in our day been rendered familiar even to infant minds through the nursery rhymes of Dr. Watts.

INCREASE OF BEES.

Every one is familiar with the natural process of "swarming," by which bees provide themselves with fresh space, and seek to plant colonies to absorb their increase of population. But the object of the bee-master is to train and educate his bees, and in so doing he avoids much of the risk and trouble which is incurred by allowing the busy folk to follow their own devices. The various methods for this end adopted by apiarians all come under the term of the "depriving" system, and they form part of the great object of humane and economical bee-keeping, which is to save the bees alive instead of slaughtering them, as under the old clumsy system. A very natural question is often asked:—How is it that, upon the depriving system, where our object is to prevent swarming, the increase of numbers is not so great as upon the old plan? It will be seen that the laying of eggs is performed by the queen only, and that there is but one queen to each hive; so that where swarming is prevented, there remains only one hive or stock, as the superfluous princesses are not allowed to come to maturity. If all those princesses were to become monarchs, or mother-bees, and to emigrate with a proportionate number of workers, increase would be going on more rapidly; but the old stock would be so impoverished thereby as possibly to yield no surplus honey, whilst the swarms might come off too late for them to collect sufficient store whereon to grow populous enough to withstand the winter.

With bees, as with men, "union is strength;" and it is often better to induce them to remain as one family, rather than to part numbers at a late period of the honey-gathering season, without a prospect of supporting themselves, and so perish from cold and hunger during the ordeal of the winter season. Would it not in such cases have been better for the little folk, to have kept under one roof through the winter, and to have been able to take full advantage of the following early spring? This is one of the great secrets of successful bee-keeping.

Our plan of giving additional store-room will, generally speaking, prevent swarming. This stay-at-home policy, we contend, is an advantage; for instead of the loss of time consequent upon a swarm hanging out preparatory to flight, all the bees are engaged in collecting honey, and that at a time when the weather is most favourable and the food most abundant. Upon the old system, the swarm leaves the hive simply because the dwelling has not been enlarged at the time when the bees are increasing. The emigrants are always led off by the old queen, leaving either young or embryo queens to lead off after-swarms, and to furnish a mistress for the old stock, and carry on the multiplication of the species. Upon the antiquated and inhuman plan, where so great a destruction takes place by the brimstone match, breeding must, of course, be allowed to go on to its full extent to make up for such sacrifices. Our chief object under the new system' is to obtain honey free from all extraneous matter. Pure honey cannot be gathered from combs where storing and breeding are performed in the same compartment. For fuller explanations on this point, we refer to the various descriptions of our improved hives in a subsequent section of this work.

There can now be scarcely two opinions as to the uselessness of the rustic plan of immolating the poor bees after they have striven through the summer so to "improve each shining hour." The ancients in Greece and Italy took the surplus honey and spared the bees, and now for every intelligent bee-keeper there are ample appliances wherewith to attain the same results. Mr. Langstroth quotes from the German the following epitaph, which, he says, "might be properly placed over every pit of brimstoned bees":—

Here rests,
CUT OFF FROM USEFUL LABOUR,
A COLONY OF
INDUSTRIOUS BEES,
BASELY MURDERED
BY ITS
UNGRATEFUL AND IGNORANT
OWNER.

And Thomson, the poet of "The Seasons," has recorded an eloquent poetic protest against the barbarous practice, for which, however, in his day there was no, alternative:—

"Ah! see where, robbed and murdered in that pit.

Lies the still-heaving hive! at evening snatched,

Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night,

And fix'd o'er sulphur! while, not dreaming ill,

The happy people, in their waxen cells,

Sat tending public cares.

Sudden, the dark, oppressive steam ascends,

And, used to milder scents, the tender race

By thousands tumble from their honied dome,

Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame!"

It will be our pleasing task, in subsequent chapters, to show "a more excellent way."

SWARMING.

The spring is the best period at which to commence an apiary, and swarming-time is a good starting-point for the new bee-keeper. The period known as the swarming season is during the months of May and June. With a very forward stock, and in exceedingly fine weather, bees do occasionally swarm in April. The earlier the swarm, the greater is its value. If bees swarm in July, they seldom gather sufficient to sustain themselves through the winter, though by careful feeding they may easily be kept alive, if hived early in the month.

The cause of a swarm leaving the stock-hive is, that the population has grown too large for it. Swarming is a provision of Nature for remedying the inconvenience of overcrowding, and is the method whereby the bees seek for space in which to increase their stores. By putting on "super-hives," the required relief may, in many cases, be given to them; but should the multiplication of stocks be desired, the bee-keeper will defer increasing the space until the swarm has issued forth. In May, when the spring has been fine, the queen-bee is very active in laying eggs, and the increase in a strong, healthy hive is so prodigious that emigration is necessary, or the bees would cease to work.

It is now a well-established fact that the old queen goes forth with the first swarm, preparation having been made to supply her place as soon as the bees determine upon the necessity of a division of their commonwealth. Thus the sovereignty of the old hive, after the first swarm has issued, devolves upon a young queen.

As soon as the swarm builds combs in its new abode, the emigrant-queen, being impregnated and her ovaries full, begins laying eggs in the cells, and thereby speedily multiplies the labourers of the new colony. Although there is now amongst apiarians no doubt that the old queen quits her home, there is no rule as to the composition of the swarm: old and young alike depart. Some show unmistakable signs of age by their ragged wings, others their extreme youth by their lighter colour; how they determine which shall stay and which shall go has not yet been ascertained. In preparation for flight, bees commence filling their honey bags, taking sufficient, it is said, for three days' sustenance. This store is needful, not only for food, but to enable the bees to commence the secretion of wax and the building of combs in their new domicile.

On the day of emigration, the weather must be fine, warm, and clear, with but little wind stirring; for the old queen, like a prudent matron, will not venture out unless the day is in every way favourable. Whilst her majesty hesitates, either for the reasons we have mentioned, or because the internal arrangements are not sufficiently matured, the bees will often fly about or hang in clusters at the entrance of the hive for two or three days and nights together, all labour meanwhile being suspended. The agitation of the little folk is well described by Evans:—

"See where, with hurried step, the impassioned throng

Pace o'er the hive, and seem, with plaintive song,

T' invite the loitering queen; now range the floor,

And hang in cluster'd columns from the door;

Or now in restless rings around they fly,

Nor spoil thy sip, nor load the hollowed thigh;

E'en the dull drone his wonted ease gives o'er,

Flaps his unwieldy wings, and longs to soar."

But when all is ready, a scene of the most violent agitation takes place; the bees rush out in vast numbers, forming quite a dark cloud as they traverse the air.

The time selected for the departure of the emigrants is generally between 10 A.M. and 3 P.M.; most swarms come off within an hour of noon. It is a very general remark that bees choose a Sunday for swarming, and probably this is because then greater stillness reigns around. It will not be difficult to imagine that the careful bee-keeper is anxious to keep a strict watch, lest he should lose such a treasure when once it takes wing. The exciting scene at a bee-swarming has been well described by the apiarian laureate:—

"Up mounts the chief, and, to the cheated eye,

Ten thousand shuttles dart along the sky;

As swift through æther rise the rushing swarms,

Gay dancing to the beam their sunbright forms;

And each thin form, still lingering on the sight,

Trails, as it shoots, a line of silver light.

High poised on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen,

In gaze attentive, views the varied scene,

And soon her far-fetched ken discerns below,

The light laburnum lift her polished brow,

Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade.

Swift as the falcon's sweep the monarch bends

Her flight abrupt: the following host descends;

Round the fine twig, like clustered grapes they close

In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose."

In many country districts it is a time-honoured custom for the good folks of the village to commence on such occasions a terrible noise of tanging and ringing with frying-pan and key. This is done with the absurd notion that the bees are charmed with the clangorous din, and may by it be induced to settle as near as possible to the source of such sweet sounds. This is, however, quite a mistake: there are other and better means for the purpose. The practice of ringing was originally adopted for a different and far more sensible object—viz., for the purpose of giving notice that a swarm had issued forth, and that the owner was anxious to claim the right of following, even though it should alight on a neighbour's premises. It would be curious to trace how this ancient ceremony has thus got corrupted from the original design.

In case the bees do not speedily after swarming manifest signs of settling, a few handfuls of sand or loose mould may be thrown up in the air so as to fall among the winged throng; they mistake this for rain, and then very quickly determine upon settling. Some persons squirt a little water from a garden engine in' order to produce the same effect.

There are, indeed, many ingenious devices used by apiarians for decoying the swarms. Mr. Langstroth mentions a plan of stringing dead bees together, and tying a bunch of them on any shrub or low tree upon which it is desirable that they should alight; another plan is, to hang some black woven material near the hives, so that the swarming bees may be led to suppose they see another colony, to which they will hasten to attach themselves. Swarms have a great affinity for each other when they are adrift in the air; but, of course, when the union has been effected, the rival queens have to do battle for supremacy. A more ingenious device than any of the above is by means of a mirror, to flash a reflection of the sun's rays amongst a swarm, which bewilders the bees, and checks their flight. It is manifestly often desirable to use some of these endeavours to induce early settlement, and to prevent, if possible, the bees from clustering in high trees or under the eaves of houses, where it may be difficult to hive them.

Should prompt measures not be taken to hive the bees as soon as the cluster is well formed, there is danger of their starting on a second flight; and this is what the apiarian has so much to dread. If the bees set off a second time, it is generally for a long flight, often for miles, so that in such a case it is usually impossible to follow them, and consequently a valuable colony may be irretrievably lost.

Too much care cannot be exercised to prevent the sun's rays falling on a swarm when it has once settled. If exposed to heat in this way, bees are very likely to decamp. We have frequently stretched matting or sheeting on poles, so as to intercept the glare, and thus render their temporary position cool and comfortable.

Two swarms sometimes depart at the same time, and join together; in such a case, we recommend that they be treated as one, by putting them into a hive as before described, taking care to give abundant room and not to delay affording access to the super hive or glasses. They will settle their own notions of sovereignty by one queen destroying the other. There are means of separating two swarms, if done at the time; but the operation is a formidable one, and does not always repay even those most accustomed to such manipulation.

With regard to preparations for taking a swarm, our advice to the bee-keeper must be the reverse of Mrs. Glass's notable injunction as to the cooking of a hare. Some time before you expect to take a swarm, be sure to have a suitable hive in which to take it, and also every other requisite properly ready. Here we will explain what was said in the introduction as to the safety of moving and handling bees. A bee-veil or dress will preserve the most sensitive from the possibility of being stung. This article, which may be bought with the hives, is made of net close enough to exclude bees, but open enough for the operator's vision. It is made to go over the hat of a lady or cap of a gentleman; it closes round the waist, and has sleeves fastening at the wrist. A pair of photographer's india-rubber gloves completes the full dress of the apiarian, who is then invulnerable, even to enraged bees. But bees when swarming are in an eminently peaceful frame of mind; having dined sumptuously, they require to be positively provoked before they will sting. Yet there may be one or two foolish bees who, having neglected to fill their honey bags, are inclined to vent their ill-humour on the kind apiarian. When all is ready, the new hive is held or placed in an inverted position under the cluster of bees, which the operator detaches from their perch with one or two quick shakes; the floor-board is then placed on the hive, which is then slowly turned up on to its base, and it is well to leave it a short time in the same place, in order to allow of stragglers joining their companions.

If the new swarm is intended for transportation to a distance, it is as well for it to be left at the same spot until evening, provided the sun is shaded from it: but if the hive is meant to stand in or near the same garden, it is better to remove it within half an hour to its permanent position, because so eager are newly-swarmed bees for pushing forward the work of furnishing their empty house, that they sally forth at once in search of materials.

A swarm of bees, in their natural state, contains from 10,000 to 20,000 insects, whilst in an established hive of Italian bees they number 40,000 and upwards. Five thousand bees are said to weigh one pound; a good swarm will weigh from three to five pounds. We have known swarms not heavier than 2½ pounds that were in very excellent condition in August as regards store for the winter.

Hitherto, all our remarks have had reference to first or "prime" swarms; these are the best, and when a swarm is purchased, such should be bargained for.

Second swarms, known amongst cottage bee-keepers as "casts," usually issue from the hive nine or ten days after the first has departed. It is not always that a second swarm issues, so much depends on the strength of the stock, the weather, and other causes; but should the bees determine to throw out another, the first hatched queen in the stock-hive is prevented by her subjects from destroying the other royal princesses, as she would do if left to her own devices. The consequence is that, like some people who cannot have their own way, she is highly indignant; and, when thwarted in her purpose, utters, in quick succession, shrill, angry sounds, much resembling "Peep, peep," commonly called "piping," but which more courtly apiarians have styled the vox regalis.

This royal wailing continues during the evening, and is sometimes so loud as to be distinctly audible many yards from the hive. When this is the case, a swarm may be expected either on the next day, or at latest within three days. The second swarm is not quite so chary of weather as the first; it was the old lady who exercised so much caution, disliking to leave home except in the best of summer weather.

In some instances, owing to favourable breeding seasons and prolific queens, a third swarm issues from the hive; this is termed a "colt:" and, in remarkable instances, even a fourth, which in rustic phrase is designated a "filly." A swarm from a swarm is called a "maiden" swarm, and, according to bee theory, will again have the old queen for its leader.

The bee-master should endeavour to prevent his labourers from swarming more than once; his policy is rather to encourage the industrious gathering of honey, by keeping a good supply of "supers" on the hives. Sometimes, however, he may err in putting on the supers too early or unduly late, and the bees will then swarm a second time, instead of making use of the store-rooms thus provided. In such a case, the clever apiarian, having spread the swarm on the ground, will select the queen, and cause the bees to go back to the hive from whence they came. This operation requires an amount of apiarian skill which, though it may easily be attained, is greater than is usually possessed.

Plate II.

E. W. Robinson Delt. et Scp. 1865.

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II.—ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BEE.

LTHOUGH the principal object in compiling the present work has been the endeavour to induct our readers into the way of keeping bees according to the most recent and approved methods, it requires but little apology for thus apparently deviating from our prescribed course, by devoting a small portion of our space to a description of the anatomy of the wonderful little creatures whose labours all our contrivances are intended to assist, and since it will at once be admitted that a knowledge of their habits is not only interesting to the bee-keeper, but enables him to conduct his apiary in accordance therewith.

Of the insect tribe, the bee is certainly the most distinguished; with the exception of the silkworm, none can approach her in ministering to the wants, or rather to the luxuries, of the human family. The instinct bees possess for feeding on flowers, bringing home honey and pollen, and secreting wax, entitles them to our close consideration of their structure and of the tools provided them by Nature for carrying on their handiwork.

In a treatise of this kind, intended to be of a popular character, we shall endeavour to place these details before our readers in a concise and simple manner, avoiding as much as may be technical terms, and referring those who wish to go more deeply into this branch of the subject to the works of Bonnet, Huber, Kirby and Spence, Dr. Bevan, &c. .

In the course of our description, we shall frequently have to refer to the steel engravings, Plates I. and II., drawn by Mr. E. W. Robinson, artist to the Entomological Society of London, who has most carefully dissected bees we sent him for the purpose, subjected these dissections to the microscope, and skilfully produced the accompanying illustrations, which will so much assist us in our agreeable task. These delineations are so clear, that a little explanation will suffice to bring home to the understanding of the curious the component parts of the bee, and the uses to which the various members are applied.

Because the bee is so small an insect, its organization ought not to be neglected to be investigated. "The bee is little among such as fly, but her fruit is the chief of sweet things." The enlightened Boyle, when contemplating the wonders of Nature, declared that his astonishment had been more excited by the mite than by the elephant; and that his admiration dwelt "not so much on the clocks as on the watches of creation."[5]

[5] Dr. Bevan.

The figures 1, 2, and 3, [Plate I]., in the frontispiece, respectively represent the exterior forms of the queen, the worker, and the drone. They are thus coloured to illustrate the Yellow Italian Alp, or Ligurian bee, now deservedly held in such high estimation by bee-keepers, and of whose good qualities we shall, in a subsequent section of this work, have occasion more fully to treat. All the bees constituting a stock may not be of quite so bright a colour as those represented: the old bees differ in appearance from the younger ones;—darkened bodies and ragged wings, not grey hairs and wrinkled faces, are the signs of old age; so that with bees (especially Ligurians), as with the gentler sex of the human race, there is appointed a period both of youth and beauty.

The anatomical structure of our English bee is much the same as that of the Italian;[6] a description of the one will therefore serve for the other. The most apparent difference consists in the colour. The English bee is of a blackish brown; both varieties have their bodies wholly covered with close-set hairs. These hairs deserve particular attention, because, although so small, each hair is feather-shaped, consisting of a stem and branches somewhat analogous to the feathers of birds. This form is extremely serviceable to the insect, when revelling in the corolla of flowers, to collect the farina, and, besides thus useful, is peculiarly adapted for retaining animal heat.[7]

[6] Naturalists consider the Italian bee a very superior race, and that the various organs are stronger and of greater capacity; it is, however, not easy to define the precise anatomical superiority.

[7] "Naturalist's Library."

The insect is divided into three parts—the head, the thorax or chest, and the abdomen.

The head of the queen ([Plate I., fig. 1 c]), as also that of the drone ([Plate I., fig. 3 c]), is rounder than that of the worker-bee. The latter ([Plate I, fig. 2 c]) is of a triangular shape, and much flattened, as in [Plate I., fig. 2* c], which shows the side view. In common with other creatures, the head contains the inlet for nutrition, and is the seat of the principal organs of sensation.

In the figures before alluded to may be seen the double visual apparatus with which bees are provided. The oval divisions on each side of the head are the two eyes, the secondary organs of vision being the three small eyes on the top of the head, called the ocelli. We shall first describe the two larger eyes, which, as seems to be the case with all insects, are immovable, and have neither irides nor pupils, nor eyelids to cover them, but are protected from the dust or pollen of flowers by a number of small hairs, as well as by a horny tunicle, which defends and secures them from injury. The multitude of hexagonal lenses which compose the eye of a bee make it appear, when viewed through a microscope, exactly like honey-comb.[8] A German writer computes that in each eye there are 3,500 lenses. In [Plate II., fig. 5] represents three of these hexagonal prisms or lenses, magnified.

[8] Dr. Bevan.

The construction of the eye for seeing objects best at a moderate distance will account for the fact that bees mount high up into the air after collecting their store of food, and then, having determined the point, no matter how far off, they fly homewards with the directness of a cannon ball, and alight at the door of their own habitation, though the country around may be crowded with hives: but on reaching the entrance, their vision appears defective, for they then feel their way with the antennæ as if totally blind; and should the hive have been moved a little, they will rise again into the air to obtain a more distant view, suited to the lengthened focus of their sight.

When a stock or swarm is brought from a distance, bees do not take their departure at once, but reconnoitre awhile, visiting surrounding objects so as to well know the spot again, in order to return thereto.

The precise purpose or use of the three small eyes does not appear to be exactly known, except that they are intended to heighten the general sense of seeing which the creature so peculiarly requires. Some naturalists suggest that they are to give a defensive vision upwards from the cups of flowers.

The mouth of the bee is a most complex structure, marvellously adapted for its duties, and consists of the mandibles, the ligula, or tongue, also called the proboscis, and other less important parts. The mandibles are the two sides of the upper jaw. [Plate I., fig. 1 d], shows the mandible of the queen, which, similar to that of the drone ([Plate I., fig. 3 d]), is provided with two teeth, whilst the mandible of the worker ([Plate I., fig. 2 d]) is without teeth. The latter having to manipulate the wax with smoothness, the teeth would doubtless be objectionable. These mandibles are strong, horny, and sharp-pointed, to assist in breaking down food between them, and, in other respects, constitute serviceable tools with which to seize their enemies, destroy the drones, &c. The tongue ([Plate II., fig. 3]), or proboscis, is a long, slender projection, flattish in form, and about the thickness of a bristle. It has about forty cartilaginous rings, each of which is fringed with minute hairs, having also a small tuft of hair at its extremity, where it is somewhat serrated. The tongue acts by rolling about, sweeping or lapping up, by means of the fringes around it, everything to which it is applied; thus, when a bee alights upon a flower, it pierces the petals and stamina, where the nectar is secreted, deposits its collection on the tongue, which, when withdrawn into the mouth, propels the gathered material into the gullet ([Plate I., fig. 2 c]) at its base, and from thence passes into the various internal organs, to which reference will be made hereafter. At times, in building combs, the tongue is used as a trowel, with which the minute scales of wax are deposited in their appropriate places, and the desired finish is given to the cells. This organ was formerly described by naturalists as a hollow tube, but we now know, by dissection, that this is not the case, but that it acts as a brush, and, by a peculiar muscular contraction externally, draws the liquid into the mouth. Thus, when a bee is imbibing food, the rings of the abdomen have a vibratory motion similar to pumping, showing to the casual observer that suction is rapidly going on in some form or other.

The labial palpi ([Plate II., fig. 3 o]) rise from the base of each side of this lapping instrument, and are also ciliated exteriorly; outside these are the lower jaws, or maxillæ ([Plate II., fig. 2 n]), similarly provided with hairs. When the jaws ([Plate II., fig. 3 n and o]) close on the tongue, they form a sheath or defence thereto.

With the mandibles of the upper jaw opening right and left, and the maxillæ or lower jaws, which serve to hold the object laboured upon, the insect prepares its work for the sweeping-up apparatus of the lower parts. Thus, when combs become mouldy, or in any way unfit receptacles for brood or honey, these tools provided by Nature serve the place of hands, and the bees are able to chop up in small pieces, and remove from their dwelling, whatever lumber of this kind may be offensive to them. The whole of this apparatus, while perfect in action in an expanded state, can be folded or coiled together when not in use, so as to form one strong and well-protected instrument.

The antennæ ([Plate I., figs. 1a, 2a, 3a],) are most important instruments, and are planted between or below the eyes and a little below the ocelli, one on either side: they consist of a number of tubular joints, each having a separate motion; being thus jointed throughout their whole length, they are, therefore, capable of every variety of flexure, and their extremities are exquisitely sensitive. With the antennæ, these insects recognise their queen, and appear to communicate to each other their joys and sorrows. For instance, if a colony be deprived of its queen, bees may be seen rushing about the hive, and, with a nervous twinge, crossing their antennæ and conveying the intelligence of their forlorn state. The sense of touch is here most acute. Huber points out a moonlight night as the best time for observing the antennæ in this respect. The bees guarding against the intrusion of moths, and not having light enough to see fully, circumambulate their doors like vigilant sentinels, with the antennæ stretched right before them; and woe to the moth that comes within reach—the instant it is felt, its death follows. The sense of hearing has been denied bees, whilst others contend that these organs are situate in their antennæ. The sounds which bees emit, particularly at swarming time, are conclusive that they possess this faculty; the only reason for arriving at an opposite conclusion seems to be, that no precise organ of hearing can be found. Naturalists are now more united in the opinion that the seat of hearing is here located. The antennæ are said to have also another office, viz., that they act as a barometer, by which bees know the state of the weather and are premonished of storms; so that this pair of horns play an important part, since such useful faculties are thus combined. In the dark recesses of the hive the antennas are exceedingly serviceable, and may truly be denominated "eyes to the blind." Bees possess acutely the senses of taste and smell. In consequence of their being detected occasionally lapping the impure liquids from stable or other fœtid drains, Huber considered the former the least perfect of their senses. It is now ascertained that bees, like most animals, are fond of salt; and in spring, more especially, their instinct teaches them that salt is beneficial for their health after their winter confinement, and they therefore resort to dunghills and Stagnant marshes, from which they are, doubtless, able to extract saline draughts.

It cannot be denied, however, that, according to our ideas, bees' taste is otherwise at fault; it sometimes happens that, where onions and leeks abound and are allowed to run to seed, bees are so anxious to complete their winter stores, that, from feeding on these plants, a disagreeable flavour is communicated to the honey. Again, the fact, well known in history, related by Xenophon in the retreat of the Ten Thousand, that bees in Asia Minor extracted honey from plants which had not only a disagreeable but a poisonous tendency to man, shows that it is quite possible, where such poisonous plants abound, for the bees to extract the juices without any injury to themselves.

The sense of smell, so largely possessed by bees, is extremely serviceable to them. Attracted by the fragrance of flowers, bees may be seen winging their way a considerable distance in an undeviating course, even sometimes in the face of weather which one might have thought they would not have braved.

The thorax or chest approaches in figure to a sphere, and is united to the head by a thread-like ligament. This is the centre of the organs of motion. Here are attached both the muscles that move the legs and wings, and the legs and wings themselves.

In [Plate II., fig. 1], b, b, b, show the muscles that move the wings; e, e, the bases of the wings.

The wings consist of two pairs of unequal size, which are hooked to one another. In [Plate I., fig. A], will be seen the margins of the two wings. In fig. B are the eighteen or twenty hooks placed on the anterior margin of the hinder wing, whilst the posterior margin of the fore wing is beautifully folded over to receive them, so that, when distended for flying, the two wings on each side act as one to steady their movements in flight.

The bee has six legs, three on either side. Each leg is composed of several joints, having articulations like a man's arm, for the thigh, the leg, and the foot. The foremost pair of these are the shortest; with them the bee unloads the little pellets from the baskets on her thighs: the middle pair are somewhat longer, and the hindmost the longest of all. On the outside of the middle joint of these last there is, in each leg, a small cavity, in the form of a marrow spoon, called the "pollen basket." In [Plate I., fig. 2 b] shows the inner side of the hind leg and pollen brush; 2 b*, same figure, the outer side and pollen basket.

The legs are covered with hairs, more particularly the edges of the cavity mentioned, in which the kneaded pollen requires to be maintained securely. In this they convey those loads of pollen which are so constantly seen carried into a hive.

This basket, or pollen groove, in the thigh is peculiar to the worker; neither queen nor drone have anything of the kind.

Another provision of the bee's limbs consists in a pair of hooks attached to each foot, with their points opposite to each other, by means of which the bees suspend themselves from the roof or sides of hives, and cling to each other as they do at swarming time or prior to and during the formation of new comb, thus forming a living curtain. In these circumstances, each bee, with its two fore claws, takes hold of the two hinder legs of the one next above it.

This mode of suspension is, no doubt, agreeable to them, although the uppermost bees appear to be dragged by the weight of the whole. Wildman supposed that bees had a power of distending themselves with air, to acquire buoyancy, and thus lessen the burden of the topmost bees. They find no difficulty in extricating themselves from the mass; the most central of the group can make its way without endangering the stability of the grape-like cluster.

Bees are able to walk freely in an inverted position, either on glass or other slippery substances. The peculiar mechanism of their feet, which enables them to do so, consists in their having in the middle of each hook a thin membranous little cup or sucker that is alternately exhausted and filled with air. Flies have the same beautiful apparatus—hence a fly commonly selects the ceiling for a resting-place. These little air-cups, or exhausted receivers, may be seen by applying a strong magnifying-glass to a window that has a bee traversing the reverse side. The edges of these little suckers are serrated, so as to close against any kind of surface to which their legs may be applied. This apparatus may be also serviceable for gathering the pollen before transmitting it to the baskets on the hind legs. Besides these appendages and apparatus of the thorax, that region is traversed by the œsophagus or gullet (the opening to which will be found in [Plate I, fig. 2 c]), on its way to the digestive and other organs, situate in the third part of the insect—viz., the abdomen. The covering of the thorax, with the external covering of the gullet, may be seen in the drawing of the magnified dissected body of the bee ([Plate II., fig. 1]).

The breathing apparatus of bees is a very remarkable feature: they have no lungs, but, instead, air-vessels or tubes, ramifying through every part of the frame. These openings, called "spiracles," are found in the sides of their bodies, behind the wings. Two of the openings are located in the thorax, and one on each side of the scales of the abdomen.

These air-vessels would be difficult to show in a drawing, the multitude of hairs which protect them are in the way of getting at a very distinct delineation. The writer has traced their oval form by the aid of Messrs. Smith and Beck's "Binocular Microscope," and exceedingly interesting objects they appeared. From the circumstance of bees breathing through these orifices in their bodies, it will not be difficult to understand how sadly the little creatures must be inconvenienced when, by accident, they fall on loose mould, and thus have their breathing pores choked with dust: it also shows how needful it is to prevent bees being besmeared with honey (by using bad appliances for feeding), which is still more injurious to them. These air-vessels are the only real circulating system, as bees have neither lungs, heart, liver, nor blood. It appears, however, that a white fluid matter, called "chyle," which, in degree, answers the purpose of blood, is produced in the intestines, nourishes the body, receives the oxygen from the air-vessels, and generates that animal warmth so necessary for the insect's well-being. Bees have the power of counteracting superabundant heat by perspiration. Not unfrequently, on a hot summer's morning, a good deal of moisture may be noticed at the entrance of a crowded hive, which the inmates have been enabled to throw off. This is a healthy sign, because a sign of great numerical strength.

The abdomen, attached to the posterior part of the thorax by a slender ligament, has, for an outer covering, six folds or scales of unequal breadth, overlapping each other, and contains the honey-bag, or first stomach, the ventricle, or true stomach ([Plate II., figs. 1 and 2f]), with other intestines, to be hereafter referred to.

The honey-bag ([Plate II., figs. 1 and 2, d]) is an enlargement of the gullet, and, although called the first stomach, no digestion takes place here. In shape it is like a taper oil flask; when full, it is about the size of a small pea, and so transparent that the colour of the honey may be seen through it. This sac, as it is sometimes called, is susceptible of contraction, and so organized as to enable the bee to disgorge a part of its contents at pleasure, to fill the honey-cells of the hive. It has formed a subject of some controversy whether any or what change takes place in the nectar of flowers whilst in the bee's stomach.

A short passage ([Plate II., figs. 1 and 2, f]) leads to the ventricle or true stomach, which is somewhat larger. This receives the food from the honey-bag, for the nourishment of the bee and the secretion of wax. The stomach, like the honey-bag, has a considerable number of muscles, which are brought into play to help the digestive and other organs. The biliary vessels ([Plate II., figs. 1 and 2, h, h]) receive the chyle from the digested food in the stomach, which from thence is conveyed to all parts of the body for its support.

Formerly, naturalists thought that wax was elaborated from pollen; but it is now fully known that it is the animal fat of the bees, and to produce it requires a considerable consumption of honey to supply the drain upon the system. Whilst this secretion is going on, bees keep themselves very still. In order to pass through the pores of the abdomen, the wax is, no doubt, a liquid oily matter, which, on making its appearance outside the abdominal rings, thickens, and exudes from under the four medial rings, in flakes like fish scales, one on either side; so that there are eight of these secreting cavities, which are peculiar to the worker: they are not found either in the queen or drone. The shape of these cavities is that of an irregular pentagon, and the plates of wax, being moulded in them, exhibit accordingly the same form (see [Plate II., fig. 5, w]).

No direct channel of communication between the stomach and these receptacles, or wax-pockets, has yet been discovered; but Huber conjectures that the secreting vessels are contained in the membrane which lines these receptacles, and which is covered with a reticulation of hexagonal meshes, analogous to the inner coat of the second stomach of ruminant quadrupeds.

The little plates of wax are withdrawn by the bee itself, with its hind feet, carried to the mouth with its fore feet, where the wax is made soft and ductile. When a cluster or swarm is placed in a new hive, and the bees suspend themselves in the form of a garland, as before described, it seems feasible that the lower bees pass their secretions up the living ladder to the uppermost ones, to be moulded by them into those beautiful white hexagonal shapes of which new comb is composed. The rapidity with which comb-building progresses at such times would lead to the supposition that there is a division of labour of this kind among them, just as our labourers convey building material to the artisan on the scaffold above. This work of comb-building is carried forward in warm weather; a cold temperature interferes with the secretion of wax.

The last important organ of the abdomen is the sting: this small but effective weapon is situate close to the stomach, and is found in the queen and worker, but is absent in the drone. Our engraving ([Plate 11., fig. 4]) exhibits the sting of the worker-bee, with its muscles and attachments: r shows the muscles that move the sting, and q the curved base of the sheath that encloses the sting.

Much beautiful mechanism is observed on a microscopic examination of this weapon and its appendages, so powerful in comparison with their bulk. The sting is composed of three separate portions, i. e., two sheaths (as seen in [Plate II., fig. 4]) and the barb. The sheaths, which are attached to the powerful muscles on either side at s, are first protruded in the act of stinging, and, clasping the barb, enables the insect to bury it in the flesh to the depth of one-twelfth of an inch; at the same time, by a muscular contraction, the poison is forced along the groove, and the barb enters the wound, causing the well-known painful effects which arise from the sting of a bee.

The darts composing this instrument are furnished with teeth or barbs, set obliquely on their outer side, which give it the appearance of an arrow, and by which it is retained in the wound until the poison has been ejected.

If the sufferer could only command himself so as to remain perfectly passive, the bee might be able to draw in these barbs which protrude beyond the sheath, and would then have a chance of withdrawing the sting: the little insect would consequently inflict less pain, and might perhaps escape paying the penalty of her life. It generally happens, however, that the excitement of both parties is so great, that the poor bee leaves behind the whole apparatus, and even part of her intestines, so that her death is the result, and the wound is more severe. The sting is about the sixth part of an inch long, and is largest at the base. Here are situated the glands or ducts ([Plate II., fig. 4, u]). By these the poison is secreted, and passed into the poison-bag ([Plate II., fig. 4, f]), which acts as a reservoir for retaining it till required.

On the subject of the sting, Paley remarks:—"The action of the sting affords a beautiful example of the union of chemistry and mechanism: of chemistry, in respect to the venom, which in so small a quantity can produce such powerful effects; of mechanism, as the sting is not a simple, but a compound instrument. The machinery would have been comparatively useless had it not been for the chemical process, by which, in the insect's body, honey is converted into poison; and, on the other hand, the poison would have been ineffectual without an instrument to wound, and a syringe to inject the fluid."

As before stated, the drone has no sting, but, in place thereof, the organs of reproduction. And now, in concluding this section, we would remark the wonderful mechanism and finish all the works of the Great Master Builder unfold. In the works of man we see, perhaps, a piece of mechanism of unquestioned beauty and excellence; but there is a bolt here or screw there that might have been dispensed with, and does not possess any definite use, whilst in the works of Nature everything has a place; we may not at once comprehend the exact purpose of some intricate parts, but that only implies that we have not made a thorough investigation. The most minute hair serves its required end. "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?"

III.—MODERN BEE-HIVES.

NUTT'S COLLATERAL HIVE.

HE late Mr. Nutt, author of "Humanity to Honey Bees," may be regarded as a pioneer of modern apiarians; we therefore select his hive wherewith to begin a description of those we have confidence in recommending. Besides, an account of Mr. Nutt's hive will necessarily include references to the various principles which subsequent inventors have kept in view.

Nutt's Collateral Hive consists of three boxes placed side by side (C, A, C), with an octagonal box b on the top, which covers a bell-glass. Each of the three boxes is nine inches high, nine inches wide, and eleven inches from back to front. Thin wooden partitions, in which six or seven openings corresponding with each other are made, divide these compartments, so that free access from one box to the other is afforded to the bees; this communication is stopped, when necessary, by a zinc slide passing down between each box. The octagonal cover B is about ten inches in diameter and twenty high, including the sloping octagonal roof, surmounted with an acorn as a finish. There are two large windows in each of the end boxes, and one in the centre box. Across the latter is a thermometer, scaled and marked so as to be an easy guide to the bee-master, showing him, by the rise in temperature, the increased accommodation required; this thermometer is a fixture, the indicating part being protected by two pieces of glass, to prevent the bees from coming between it and the window, and thereby obstructing the view.

D D are ventilators. In the centre of each of the end boxes is a double zinc tube, reaching down a little below the middle: the outer tube is a casing of plain zinc, with holes, about a quarter of an inch wide, dispersed over it; the inside one is of perforated zinc, with' openings so small as to prevent the escape of the bees; a flange or rim keeps the tubes suspended through a hole made to receive it. The object in having double tubing is to allow the inner one to be drawn up, and the perforations to be opened by pricking out the wax, or rather the propolis, with which bees close all openings in their hives. These tubes admit a thermometer, enclosed in a cylindrical glass, to be occasionally inserted during the gathering season; it requires to be left in the tube for about a quarter of an hour, and on its withdrawal, if found indicating ninety degrees or more, ventilation must be adopted to lower the temperature. The ornamental zinc top D must be left raised, and is easily kept in that position by putting the perforated part a little on one side.

The boxes before described are placed on a raised double floor-board, extending the whole length—viz., about thirty-six inches. The floor-board projects a few inches in front. In the centre is the entrance (as our engraving only shows the back of the hive, we must imagine it on the other side); it is made by cutting a sunken way, of about half an inch deep and three inches wide, in the floor-board, communicating only with the middle box; it is through this entrance alone that the bees find their way into the hive, access to the end boxes and the super being obtained from the inside. An alighting-board is fitted close under the entrance, for the bees to settle upon when returning laden with homey. This alighting-board is removable for the convenience of packing. The centre, or stock-box A, called by Mr. Nutt the Pavilion of Nature, is the receptacle for the swarm. For stocking this, it will be necessary to tack the side tins so as to close the side openings in the partition, and to tack some perforated zinc over the holes at top; the swarm may then be hived into it just the same as with a common hive. A temporary bottom board may be used if the box has to be sent any distance, or a cloth may be tied round to close the bottom (the latter plan is best, because allowing plenty of air); and when brought home at night, the bees being clustered at the top, the cloth or temporary bottom must be removed, the box gently placed on its own floor-board, and the hive set in the place it is permanently to occupy. E E are two block fronts, which open with a hinge. A semicircular hole, three inches long and two inches wide in the middle, is cut in the upper bottom-board, immediately under the window of each box; these apertures are closed by separate perforated zinc slides. These blocks, when opened, afford a ready means of reducing the temperature of the side boxes, a current of air being quickly obtained, and are also useful for allowing the bees to throw out any refuse.

The centre F is a drawer, in which is a feeding-trough, so constructed that the bees can descend through the opening before mentioned on to a false bottom of perforated zinc. Liquid food is easily poured in by pulling out the drawer a little way; the bees readily come down on to the perforated zinc, and take the food by inserting their probosces through the perforations, with no danger of being drowned. Care must be exercised that the food is not given in such quantity as to come above the holes; by this means; each hive has a supply of food accessible only to the inmates, with no possibility, when closely shut in, of attracting robber-bees from other hives.

The exterior of these hives is well painted with two coats of lead colour, covered with two coats of green, and varnished. Notwithstanding this preservation, it is absolutely essential to place such a hive under a shed or cover of some sort, as the action of the sun and rain is likely to decay the wood, whilst the extreme heat of a summer sun might cause the combs to fall from their foundations.

Neat and tasteful sheds may be erected, either of zinc supported by iron or wooden rods, or a thatched roof may be sustained in the same manner, and will form a pretty addition to the flower-garden.

When erecting a covering, it will be well to make it a foot or two longer, so as to allow of a cottage hive on either side, as the appearance of the whole is much improved by such an arrangement.

The following directions, with some adaptation, are from "Nutt on Honey-Bees":—

"In the middle box the bees are to be first placed: in it they should first construct their beautiful combs, and under the government of one sovereign, the mother of the hive, carry on their curious work, and display their astonishing architectural ingenuity. In this box, the regina of the colony, surrounded by her industrious, happy, humming subjects, carries on the propagation of her species, deposits in the cells prepared for the purpose by the other bees thousands of eggs, though she seldom deposits more than one egg in a cell at a time: these eggs are nursed up into a numerous progeny by the other inhabitants of the hive. It is at this time, when hundreds of young bees are daily coming into existence, that the collateral boxes are of the utmost importance, both to the bees domiciled in them and to their proprietors; for when the brood become perfect bees in a common cottager's hive, a swarm is the necessary consequence. The queen, accompanied by a vast number of her subjects, leaves the colony, and seeks some other place in which to carry on the work Nature has assigned her. But as swarming may, by proper precaution and attention to this mode of management, generally be prevented, it is good practice to do so, because the time necessarily required to establish a new colony, even supposing the cottager succeeds in saving the swarm, would otherwise be employed in collecting honey, and in enriching the old hive. Here, then, is one of the features of this plan—viz., the prevention of swarming. The period when symptoms of swarming begin to present themselves may be known by an unusual noise, the appearance of more than common activity among the bees in the middle box, and, above all, by a sudden rise of temperature, which will be indicated by the quicksilver in the thermometer rising to seventy-five degrees, as scaled on the thermometer in the box; when these symptoms are apparent, the bee-master may conclude that additional space is required. The top sliding tin should now be withdrawn from under the bell-glass, which will open to the bees a new store-room; this they will soon occupy, and fill with combs and honey of pure whiteness, if the weather be favourable for their uninterrupted labour. It may be well here to mention, that if the glass have a small piece of clean worker comb attached to the perforated ventilating tube, the bees will more speedily commence their operations in it. When the glass is nearly filled, which in a good season will be in a very short space of time, the bees will again require increased accommodation; this will also be indicated by the thermometer further rising to eighty-five degrees. The end box, as thereon marked, must now be given them. Previously to drawing up a slide to enlarge their crowded house, the manager should carefully take off the empty end box he intends to open to them, and thoroughly cleanse it, and then smear or dress the inside of it with a little liquid honey. Thus prepared, he must return the box to its proper situation, and then withdraw the sliding tin that hitherto has cut it off from the middle box; by so doing, the store-room is again enlarged. The bees will commence operations in this new apartment. This simple operation, performed at the proper time, generally prevents swarming; by it the queen gains a vast addition to her dominions, and, consequently, increasing space for the multiplying population of her domicile. Provided the weather continue fine, and the thermometer has risen to ninety-five degrees, as marked on the scale, the remaining tin may be also withdrawn, thereby giving the bees admittance to another box. There is now no lack of store-rooms or of employment for our indefatigable labourers. The cylinder thermometer is required to be occasionally dropped into the ventilating tube of the side boxes to ascertain their temperature; for, if exceeding or approaching that of the middle box, it must be reduced by ventilating: this is done by raising the zinc tops, to allow the air to pass through the perforations. The grand object of this system is to keep the end boxes and the bell-glass cooler than the pavilion or middle box, so as to induce the queen to propagate her species there and there only, and not in the depriving part of the hive; by this means the side and upper combs are in no way discoloured by brood. The queen requires a considerable degree of warmth; the middle box does not require more ventilation than the additional openings afford. The bees enjoy coolness in the side boxes, and thereby the whiteness and purity of the luscious store are increased."

After the foregoing directions for the working of the hive, it remains to be told how to obtain possession of the store, and to get rid of our industrious tenants from the super and end boxes, of which the super glass will be almost sure to be filled first, having been first given to them. The operation of taking honey is best performed in the middle of a fine sunny day. The mode we prefer is as follows:—Pass an ordinary table-knife all round underneath the rim of the glass, to loosen the cement, properly called propolis; then take a piece of fine wire, or a piece of string will do, and, having hold of the two ends, draw it under the glass very slowly, so as to allow the bees to get out of the way. Having brought the string through, the glass is now separated from the hive; but it is as well to leave the glass in its place for an hour or so; the commotion of the bees will then have subsided: and another advantage we find is, that the bees suck up the liquid and seal up the cells broken by the cutting off. You can then pass underneath the glass two pieces of tin or zinc; the one may be the proper slide to prevent the inmates of the hive coming out at the apertures, the other tin keeps all the bees in the glass close prisoners. After having confined the bees in the glass for a short time, you must see whether they manifest symptoms of uneasiness, because, if they do not, it may be concluded that the queen is among them. In such a case, replace the glass, and recommence the operation on a future day. It is not often that her majesty is in the depriving hive or glass; but this circumstance does sometimes happen, and the removal at such a time must be avoided. When the bees that are prisoners run about in great confusion and restlessness, the operator may conclude that the queen is absent, and that all is right. The glass may be taken away a little distance off, and placed in a flower-pot or other receptacle, where it will be safe when inverted and the tin taken away: the bees will then be glad to make their escape back to their hive. A little tapping at the sides of the glass will render their tarriance uncomfortable, and the glass may then be taken into a darkened room or out-house, with only a small aperture admitting light, which must be open; the bees, like all insects, make towards the light, and so escape. The bee-master should brush them off with a feather from the comb as they can be reached; but on no account, if there are many bees, should the glass be left, because the bees that are in the glass will gorge themselves to their full, and speedily bring a host of others from the adjacent hives, who, in a very little time, would leave only the empty combs. It is truly marvellous how soon they will carry all the store back again, if allowed to do so. An empty glass should be put on to the hive in place of the full one, as it will attract the bees up, thereby preventing the too close crowding of the hive; and, if the summer be not too far advanced, they will work more honey-comb in it.

The removal of the end boxes is a somewhat similar process, but they should on no account be taken away, at the same time as the glass, or, indeed, at a time when any other hive is being—robbed we were going to say, for it is robbery to the bees: they intended the honey for their winter food, and are much enraged at being deprived of it. First shut down the dividing tin; the bees in the end box are now prisoners separated from the hive; keep them so half an hour, and then take away the box bodily to another part of the garden, or into the dark out-house, as before recommended.

It may not be out of place here to say something respecting the enthusiastic inventor of the collateral hive—Thomas Nutt—who was an inhabitant of Spalding, in Lincolnshire. Having been disabled during a considerable period by rheumatic fever, he devoted all his attention to bees, at a time when bee-culture was but little valued; and, although it must be admitted that two boxes were used side by side long before Mr. Nutt's day, still it is due to him to state that the adoption of three boxes was entirely his own idea, and that, so far as he then knew, the collateral system was his original invention. His statements have been severely criticised, and it does appear almost incredible that the weight of honey which he names could have been produced in one season. But as in the district where he lived there is grown an immense quantity of mustard seed—the flowers of which afford excellent forage for bees—the honey harvests there would, doubtless, be very large. If Mr. Nutt has given his little favourites too much praise, it will be only charitable now to account for his statements by an excess of zeal and enthusiasm in this his study of bee-culture. It may be that the golden harvests he spoke and wrote of have been so far useful that they have induced many to commence bee-keeping, some of whom, whilst they condemned his statements, have themselves written really useful and practical works on the subject, which otherwise might possibly never have appeared. As the monks of old kept the lamp of religion burning, however dimly, until a more enlightened age, so Thomas Nutt may have assisted in a somewhat similar manner by energetically propounding his views, and thereby causing other apiarians to rise up, whose names are now as familiar to us as household words, and whose works posterity will value. The writer of these pages has often accompanied Mr. Nutt on his visits to his patrons in the neighbourhood of London, and seen him perform his operations regardless of the anger of the bees, and free from all fear of their stings. He often expatiated on the cruelty of the brimstone match and suffocation, denouncing the barbarous custom in the following terms: "You may as well kill the cow for her milk, or the hen for her eggs, as the bee for its honey; why continue to light the fatal match, when every cottager in England has the means of saving this most useful and valuable insect?"

NEIGHBOUR'S IMPROVED SINGLE BOX HIVE.

We have introduced the "Single Box Hive" to suit the convenience of those who, though desirous of keeping bees on the improved principle, do not wish to incur the expense or devote the space which is necessary for Nutt's hive.

It consists of a lower or stock-box A, eleven inches square, nine inches deep, with three large windows, a thermometer D, as in Nutt's, being fixed across the front one, protected at the sides by strips of glass, to prevent the bees obscuring the quicksilver from sight, B is a cover the same size as the lower hive, large enough to allow space for a bell-glass nine inches wide, six inches deep. E is the ventilator between the glass and the stock-hive, intended to prevent the queen travelling into the super hive, and also, by cooling the hive, to endeavour to prevent swarming; a sloping pagoda roof, with an acorn top, completes the upper story. A floor-board with a block front, as in Nutt's collateral, forms the base, the entrance being sunk, as before described, and furnished with zinc slides to reduce or close it as may be required. To stock a hive of this description, it is necessary to send the stock-box to the party with whom you have agreed for the supply of a swarm. In the evening of the day the hive is thus tenanted, remove it to the position it is designed permanently to occupy; if the swarm has to be procured from a distance, and is transported by rail or other conveyance, a perforated zinc slide should be substituted for the plain slide that covers the top, and a large piece or perforated zinc must also be tacked to the bottom after the swarm has settled in. Thus securely confined, with a free circulation of air throughout, bees that have been' swarmed the day before may be safely sent any distance that will allow of their being released the day after; because bees, though they provision themselves for a couple of days, cannot with safety be confined in an empty hive much longer.

Having now, we will suppose, procured your swarm, and placed it in a south or south-east aspect, you may, with advantage if the weather be wet, give a little liquid food: the feeding in this hive is performed at the top of the stock-box, where the glass is worked. Our round feeding pan, or the new feeding bottle, may here be used. Any fancy as to the position may be indulged in, but must be settled on by the time the bees are set at liberty, because any alteration afterwards is detrimental to the working of the hive. The bees, on first issuing forth, carefully mark their new abode and the surrounding objects, so that, if a change be made, they are completely thrown out in their observations, which confuses them not a little, and occasions loss. Bees always return to the same spot; it is the locality that they know, and if the hive is moved a less distance than a mile, thousands return to the spot on which the hive has been accustomed to stand.

Allow your bees to collect honey and build their combs for ten days or a fortnight. Much now depends on the weather; if fine, by this time they will require additional room, which will be indicated by the thermometer D rapidly rising; 100 degrees is the swarming point. The hive must be kept below this by ventilation.

Access must now be given to the flat bell-glass at the top, which is done by withdrawing the top slide. In a few hours, sometimes immediately, the work of comb-building begins in the glass—all the sooner, if a piece of clean empty comb be placed therein.

It is of service to keep the glass warm by means of a worsted or baize bag; it prevents the temperature from falling at night, when much comb-building is carried on, providing the heat is not allowed to escape. Probably, if all goes on well, in three weeks the glass will be found filled with fine white honey-comb. When you find that the comb is well sealed up, it is time to take it off; but if the cells are unfilled and unsealed, let the labourers complete their work—a little experience will soon enable the bee-keeper to determine this point.

The plan to be adopted for taking glasses of honey, comb is the same as described for Nutt's hive.

TAYLOR'S AMATEUR SHALLOW BOX OR EIGHT-BAR HIVE.

Taylor's Amateur Hive, as seen by reference to the engraving, consists of three boxes—the lower one, A, is the stock-box, in which the swarm is first placed; B is the first super; and C, the centre box: all three boxes are of the same diameter, viz., thirteen and a half inches square inside, A, the stock-box, is seven and a half inches deep; B, six and a half inches: both are fitted with eight moveable bars, each bar being one inch and an eighth wide, with spaces of half an inch between, and all easily removed by unscrewing the crown-board, in which are two openings closed by zinc slides. The middle box, C, has no bars, and is still shallower than either of the other boxes, being five inches deep. In many localities and seasons, the third box may not be required. Each box has two windows, one at the back and another at the side, a zinc shutter, sliding in a groove, excluding light and retaining warmth. The box C differs from the others in another respect; instead of bars, it has a grating made by seven openings, each half an inch wide and nine inches long: these three boxes stand on a stout floor-board, in which is cut the entrance way, four inches wide and three-eighths of an inch high. The floor-board projects so as to support an outer cover of half-inch wood, surmounted by a sloping roof. This is an effectual protection from the weather, and is necessary when hives are exposed; of course, if placed in a bee-house, such protection may be dispensed with. The outer case is well painted, of a green colour, and when it is used the hive may be placed in any part of the garden. The dimensions of this hive, with outside cover, are eighteen inches square, and two feet six inches high.

Suitable stands are provided, consisting of a stout pedestal with four feet. Stakes should be driven into the ground to secure the whole against wind. Height from the ground, four feet three inches.