Datasets:

BEE-spoke-data

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bees-v0

like 1

In the next place, be a little particular about the shape of the straw sleep. It ought generally to be one of medium size--although this may vary according to locality ; and have a good hole at the top,closed with a cap or cork. And, above all, let it have a flat top, as in the illustration, because you will want to place upon it, what is called a super, in which the bees will make honey for you to take, and this super will not stand well if the top is round. And then by some means you must manage to keep the hive dry ; placing over it some kind of covering, so that no rain can reach it to make it damp. And, when you choose a place for it to stand, see that it is well sheltered from cold winds, and in a situation where, as far as possible, the early sun will shine upon it. A guide-book will give you other directions, but these are the chief things to remember.

Formerly the straw skep was nearly the only kind of hive used, and many bee-keepers even now, prefer them to others. And certainly such hives have their advantages. They do not require so much care or trouble as other hives ; and bees thrive very well in them for a time, for the straw is a very good material to keep the bees warm in winter, and at the right temperature in summer. And although they are called old-fashioned, they may easily be kept without there being any necessity to kill the bees in the old-fashioned, cruel way. And very good honey may be obtained from them, although not nearly the quantity which we get from the more modern hives.

But at the same time they have their disadvantages, and I am only advising you to get such a hive just to begin with, and that you may get accustomed to the bees; and also that you may, when you want it, get a swarm to put into a better hive. The disadvantages, indeed, are so many and so serious tha I hope you will not be content without soon having something better.

To give you some idea of these disadvantages : suppose something goes wrong with the bees--some of their enemies get inside, or the bees are ill, as sometimes is the case ;--you know that it is so, that things are wrong ; but what can you do? There the bees are, safely shut up in a hive, where you cannot either see or help them. There are things you could do, and remedies you could apply, which would soon put all straight again, but you are helpless to do anything.

Think how it would be if you yourself were in similar circumstances. We will suppose that you are ill, and the doctor sent for. He comes, and feels your pulse, and asks you many questions, and so prescribes his medicine. But what could the doctor do if, when he came, he had to stand outside the house, and not even see you through a window? And of what use would be all his medicine if, when brought, it had to be set down outside the house, and there was no one to bring it in? You see, of course, the absurdity of the whole thing. And yet this is much the case with the bees in a straw hive when things go wrong. We cannot get at them, either to see what is amiss, or to give them any remedy.

And then there are frequently other occasions when many things can be done to assist the bees, and to make them into thriving colonies, if only we are able to see into the hives, and to handle the separate combs.

And now, keeping all this in view we see not only the objections to straw skeps, but also what are the chief points to be observed in the construction of any good hive. It must, we see, be so constructed that we can easily and thoroughly examine it in every part, and, if necessary, see every bee and all that is going on within--what is right and what is wrong.

## Chapter Xxxxi.

The frame-hive and the principles of its construction.

In the modern hive, all that I have spoken of in the last chapter, as most necessary, can be done perfectly and with ease. This is the Moveable Comb or Frame-Hive. It is constructed in a hundred different ways, but in all there is the great principle of the moveable frame. In a general way it may be said that the principal part of the interior of the hive is simply a warm, dry box, of a certain size, and made very exactly to that size. It may or may not stand upon legs ; and, instead of an ordinary flat top, it has a roof, like a house, so made that it can be lifted off without difficulty.

But we are now chiefly concerned with the frames, which are shaped as shown in the illustration, and of which there are a number--at least ten--with which the body of the hive is filled. All these frames can easily be taken out of the hive. They have, you see, shoulders (these shoulders are made of various patterns) which rest on ledges running along the sides of the hive. They are made, also, just a little smaller than the inside of the hive, so that when they are in their places they hang quite loose and free, as seen in the illustration on the next page. You will thus easily understand that if we can only get the bees to make their combs in these frames, and exactly straight and true, we shall have obtained what we wanted, and be able to lift them out, one by one, just as we require, and see every part of the hive and every bee.

If, however, the bees do not build their combs straight and true in every frame, but crossways or crooked, we are no better off than without them. So that this is the first essential thing with a frame-hive --to get the frames filled properly with comb. The hive may be very beautifully made, but all is useless unless the bees build their combs exactly straight and true in all the frames.

To get the bees to do this might seem very difficult. Formerly it would have been thought out of the question. It is, however, really the easiest thing possible, by means of sheets of wax, called Comb Foundation, ingeniously made of the required size, and in a manner most helpful to the bees.

This comb foundation is made by dipping a flat, smooth piece of wood, which has first been wetted, into melted wax one or more times (like a tallow dip), according to the thickness required. The wax which adheres to each side of the wood is then easily peeled off in sheets.

Afterwards, these sheets of wax are pressed by a machine, and run through rollers, which have, cut upon them and all over them, the exact resemblances of the beginning of comb-cells. And so, when the sheet is passed between the rollers and is finished, it has received on all parts, and on both sides, impressions just like the commencement of cells.

These sheets--at least, if for use within the hive--are also made of just that thickness of wax which gives the bees sufficient material with which to lengthen out, and to finish off, the cells thus begun for them, so saving them the time and trouble of making any more wax.

For use in supers a very much thinner kind is made, for this is used more as a guide for the bees, to show them which way we wish them to build their combs, rather than as a help to them in wax-making.

These sheets of comb-foundation are fixed without much difficulty, perfectly straight within the frames. When all are thus filled they are put into their places within the hive, and well covered over with proper material--generally layers of flannel or carpet. And then, when the bees of a swarm are put into the hive, they are so delighted to find such good provision for them, and almost half their work of comb-building already done, that they at once and without hesitation, set to work to make and finish their combs out of these sheets in the frames. And the result is that every comb, when made, is in a frame by itself, and true and straight as we wanted. And thus, without difficulty, the first great and essential thing is obtained. Each frame is independent of the others, and can be lifted out with comb and bees upon it whenever wanted.

egin{tabular}{c c} Frame filled with Comb. & \ (\(a\).) Sealed honey stores. & (\(c\).) Sealed drone comb. \ (\(\delta\).) Sealed worker-broad comb. & (\(d_{1}\).) Unsealed drone comb. \ (\(d_{2}\).) Unsealed worker comb. & \ \end{tabular}

All frames--whatever the sort of hive--are now made of the same size, namely, 14 inches long by \(8 rac{1}{3}\) inches deep. This is called the standard size. They are also made just of the proper width to hold a comb ; and so contrived at the shoulder that, when in the hive, they are exactly at equal distances from one another, and just at that distance which the bees choose when making comb for themselves.

And now going back to 'the hive itself, I will point out a few more of the principal conditions to be fulfilled before it can be called a good hive. You will find full particulars and many such conditions in the best guide-books ; but the mention of three or four will be sufficient.for our present purpose. Of these the first is that the hive must be well and strongly made of good-seasoned wood. It may be very rough, but it must be strong, and must not warp or crack. In the next place, the inside of the hive, where the frames hang suspended, must be exactly of the right depth and width. It should hold ten frames at least, and it would be well if there is room for several more ; for, if not filled up with frames, the vacant space is cut off from the bees by a stout division-board, and is always useful when examining the hive.

But whatever the number of frames, the width and depth of the hive inside must be true to measure ; so

made that when a frame is suspended within, there is a space of half an inch between the bottom of the frame and the floor of the hive, and a quarter of an inch between the sides of the frame and the sides of the hive. And there is great reason for this exactness. If the space at the sides is greater tha the bees will build comb in it, and so fix the frames ; and, if less than a quarter of an inch, they are unable themselves to get round the frames as they require, and so they fill up the space with propolis, and fix everything tight, which is worse still. The space below the frames the bees require as they come rushing in with their loads, to carry them to all parts of the hive.

In the next place, whatever the description of hive, it must be warm in winter, and not too hot in summer.

This is best provided for by its having double walls with, if possible, a space between. Good hives, however, may be made with single walls if only the wood is of sufficient thickness. But, whatever the walls, you must always remember that it cannot be a good hive unless, as I say, it is warm in cold weather, and the bees inside are protected in summer from the scorching heat of the sun.

Again, our hive must be very dry. This is quite essential for the bees. They cannot live in a damp house. If therefore the hive stands out in the open, it must be well painted, and must have a good roof, well made, to throw off the rain. And then this roof --which must either be hinged to the hive, or made separately, so that it can be taken off--must have plenty of room inside. You will hear the reason of this presently, but remember it as a necessity--a good high roof with plenty of room inside.

And now I have really told you the chief points of a good hive. There are other things of importance, such as the size and construction of the entrance, and how it should be sheltered ; and, within the hive, how the frames should be kept true in their proper position, and how thick should be the flannel covering over them ; but of all these things I shall leave a guide-book, or some bee-keeping friend, to tell you.

With these few simple rules to be observed, I think it very possible that at some future time, if you have intelligence, and a ready hand to use a few simple tools, you may wish to make a hive for yourself. Only if so, it will be best for you, in the first instance, to purchase or to obtain the loan of one as a model. You will hardly succeed without this, although there will be no occasion for your hive to have the polish and finish of first-rate workmanship. Your home-made hive, indeed, may be a very rough one, but all the same very serviceable, if only you copy your model and abide by the first principles I have mentioned, and do not substitute fancies of your own. In any case, however, you will do well to buy the frames, which can only properly be cut by machinery, and cost a mere trifle.

If in the construction of your hive you can plan and contrive with old material, and manage to use odds and ends of wood, without the expense of buying new from the carpenter, your interest in your hive, when completed, will, I think, be all the greater. And it is always wonderful how the exercise of ingenuity will get over many difficulties in such things, and find some way of adapting to the end in view the most trivial things possible.

Here is an account how some of the greatest men, distinguished in after life in science and art, began in the most humble way as boys, contriving to work out their schemes, and to practise their art with the most odd things possible :--

'A burnt stick and a barn-door served Wilkie (the great painter) in lieu of pencil and canvas ; Bewick (artist and engraver) first practised drawing on the cottage walls of his native village, which he covered with his sketches in chalk ; and Benjamin West (afterwards President of the Royal Academy) made his first brushes out of the cat's tail. Ferguson laid himself down in the fields at night in a blanket, and made a map of the heavenly bodies by means of a thread with small beads on it, stretched between his eye and the stars. Franklin first robbed the thunder-cloud of its lightning by means of a kite made with two cross sticks and a silk handkerchief. Watt made his first model of the condensing steam-engine out of an old syringe. Gifford worked his first problem in mathematics, when a cobbler's apprentice, upon small scraps of leather which he beat smooth for the purpose ; whilst Rittenhouse, the astronomer, first calculated eclipses on his doughhandle : *

## Chapter Xxxxii.

some advantages of the frame-hive.

We proceed now to think of some of the advantages of the frame-hive. Some of these are plain enough. For instance, you are able, as I have said before, at any time thoroughly to examine such a hive by taking out the frames one by one, and thus see all that is going on within. Again, if you have more than one such hive, it is always possible and generally easy, to make one hive help another, as occasion requires. If one hive is weak and another strong, the bekeeper will take from the strong hive some of the frames containing brood or honey, as may be needed, and give them to the weak one.

Then, when winter comes, the bee-keeper will take some of the frames away, and confine the bees to a smaller space, and thus make the most of that heat which is so necessary to the welfare of the hive. These frames he can return to them in the early spring when food is needed.

Again, a very important part of bee-keeping is to take care that the queen in every hive is young and healthy. In a straw sleep the bee-keeper cannot find or see the queen, but with a frame-hive he can easily do so; and when she is too old to be useful, she can be removed, and another queen given in her place. There are many ways of doing this, as also of obtaining young queens, but I cannot now explain the process. Here, again, a guide-book will help you.

I may, however, just mention how a new queen is generally given to a hive. It is an operation very interesting, but requiring care. If the new queen were merely put into the hive instead of the old one, there would be little chance of her life. The bees, faithful and loyal to their old sovereign, would kill the intruder. They sometimes do this by stinging her, but more generally by encasing her, as it is termed,--clinging round her, making her the centre of a ball of bees, and so suffocating or squeezing her to death.

Consequently when the bee-keeper wishes to give a new queen to a hive, he first removes the old one, and gives the bees a little time to mourn her loss. Then, when they are beginning to prepare to make a fresh one for themselves, he puts his new queen into a little wire cage, like one of these here illustrated, and then puts cage and queen carefully into the hive. The bees at first may wish to destroy her, but are prevented by the wire covering of the cage. After a while they get used to her, talking to her through the wires, and are ready to adopt her as their own queen. As soon as this is the case, the bee-keeper lets her out, and she is welcomed, and the hive once again prospers with a young and active queen and mother at its head. But one of the greatest advantages of the frame-hive is that the frames, when the combs are full of honey, can be taken out, and by means of a machine called an Extractor,which will be presently described, be emptied of their sweets without destroying the combs, and then put back again for the bees to refill. This cannot, of course, be done with the combs in a skep. A very great quantity of honey can be taken in this way, for the bees, being spared all the trouble of making fresh comb, very soon fill the empty cells, and the beekeeper can again and again, during the season, take away a good supply of honey out of the same combs.

Another great advantage of the frame-hive is that the bee-keeper can, without much difficulty, at the proper time of year make an increase of his colonies, just as he thinks fit. He can, as a good guide-book will explain, make one hive into two ; or, which is an excellent plan, he can make three out of two, or four out of three. He is indeed the bee-master as well as the bee-keeper, and the bees are his most willing and industries little servants.

Then, again, with the frame-hive, many enemies can be destroyed, diseases cured, new frames given when required, the number of drones regulated, and many other things done, most helpful to the bees ; so that, as I have said, you must not always be content with the straw skep, although, to begin with, it is a good hive.

But now, doubtless, the question has been suggested to your mind. Yes, but when you talk of lifting out frames, and finding the queen, and doing all that has been described, will the bees permit you? Will they not so attack and sting you as to compel you to give in? No, not so ; for they patiently submit. Some people think there is a great mystery in this, and that bee-keepers have some secret charm. There is, however, nothing of the sort, unless it is the charm of gentleness, kindness, and a knowledge of the bees' habits ; and nothing can compensate for this. But then to avoid being stung, you can wear a veil ; and, if necessary, gloves, although these latter are but seldom needed, and indeed do much to aggravate the bees.

The greatest help, however, is obtained from smoke, a very little of which, puffed into the hive, will generally very soon quiet the bees, and make them almost as harmless as flies. The effect of the smoke upon the bees is very curious. In the first place, it frightens them,and the result of their alarm is that they instantly run to the honey-cells, and fill themselves with the sweets. It is supposed that instinct teaches them thus to prepare, if necessary, to leave their home, carrying with them as much store as possible. But having thus filled themselves with honey, they generally become in the best possible temper, and seem to put away their stings ; just like a bad-tempered man, who is always in better humour after a good dinner than when hungry.

Some bee-keepers, however, hardly use any smoke, and some use a preparation of carbonic acid, a very little of which applied with a feather to the tops of the frames answers almost as well. A spray diffuser with sweetened water is also very useful at times.

## Chapter Xxxxiii.

super honey and the extractor.

I must now describe a very important part of bee-keeping, namely, how to obtain the honey, which the bees are ready, if managed well, to store away for us, either in large boxes or glasses, or, far better still, in those beautiful little cases which are called sections. But before **I** describe the process, let us think of the state of things within the hive which leads the bees thus to prepare and fill them.

As summer advances the hive becomes more and more populous. Young bees are hatching out daily, and all the frames, not wanted for the brood-nest, are more or less filled with honey, so that there is really neither room nor work in the hive for all the bees, The consequence is that an emigration on a large scale must take place.

The same thing happens in our own land. England becomes over-populated, and so thousands leave the old country, and go across the seas to find new homes, and fresh land to cultivate, in countries where there is abundant room for all. We hear thus of thousands going to America, New Zealand, and Australia.

In the case of the bees, when this kind of emigration must take place, and they feel the time coming near, they begin to make preparation by, first of all, taking steps to provide a new queen as formerly described. When she is nearly ready to come out of her royal cell, scouts go out to find a favourable home for the emigrants. It may be in an old tree, or in the roof of a house. I have often known bees at such times come down a chimney, black as sweeps, into a room. These were the scouts looking for a new home, and examining the chimney-pot ; and, being unable to return, on account of getting covered with soot, they fell down into the room. All things being now ready, the bees on some fine morning, if left to themselves, would issue forth as a natural swarm.

But it often happens that the bee-keeper does not want any increase in the number of his stocks. And so, before this swarming takes place, indeed as soon as the hives become full of bees, he says, 'No, I do not intend you to make a swarm. You must all remain at home, and make honey for my use.' And when the bees reply, 'We cannot do so, for we have no room in which to store it,' the bee-keeper still says, 'No ; I cannot let you go, but I will give you room. I will give you a large super, or a glass, or more probably a number of the little sections ; and, as soon as you have filled these, I will give you more. You shall never stand still for want of room ; you shall always have plenty.'

To carry out this purpose, the bee-keeper first of all prepares his super or his sections by fixing in them small pieces of comb foundation, made very thin for this special purpose. This secures that the bees build the comb, true and straight, in the proper shape. Then, in the case of sections, he puts a number of them into a wooden frame called a rack, which holds them all together.

In the next place he takes off from the frames in the hive the quilts and covering, and puts on the whole case of sections instead, covering all over with plenty of flannel. And then, lastly, he puts on the roof, which, as I have said before, must have plenty of room inside. You see this done in the following illustration.

The bees now, of course, have easy admission into all these sections, and generally will begin work in them without delay if only the sections are kept

Hive with Sections in Position:

perfectly warm, and the weather is favourable. And very soon some will be finished, filled with the purest comb and the best of honey.

As soon as some are filled, and the cells sealed over, the bee-keeper takes them away, substituting at the same time an equal number of empty sections. Doubtless the bees are extremely astonished to find empty sections instead of full ones. They must think, that it seems like an endless task to try and get them full. It must seem to them like the task of Sisyphus in the old story, who had to roll to the top of a hill a large stone, which had no sooner reached the summit than it fell back, and the labour had to be recommended. But like good bees--giving us an excellent example--they make the best of it, and go on honey gathering, humming their pleasant song, content to work not only for themselves but for others.

* The more their strength calamity hath drained, The more will they exert them to repair The nation's falling state, their garners fill, And re-construct their masonry of flowers.' VIRGIL (by Kennedy).

But when the bee-keeper wishes to obtain the greatest possible quantity of honey, he does not depend entirely on supers, whether sectional or of any other kind, but uses to a great extent the machine called an extractor, to which allusion has been already made. More can be obtained by its use than in any other way ; but then it is not honey in the comb, and has not that beautiful and inviting appearance which belongs to well-filled sections.

The extractor--which is also very useful for other purposes--is a very ingenious machine. There are several forms of it, all more or less made after the pattern of those perfected by Mr. Cowan, and in all there is the same principle. The frames, when taken from the hive, have, first of all, the caps of the cells removed with a sharp knife. They are then put into a kind of wire cage (fig. 2), which, being placed in the machine are made to whirl round and round with great rapidity. The effect of this is, that the honey is thrown out of the cells against the sides of the extractor, and running down, can then be drawn away from a tap at the bottom.

The force which brings this about, and throws out the honey; is called 'centrifugal force.' I may illustrate its action in this way.

If you tie a piece of string to a stone, and then, while holding the end of the string in your hand, swing the stone round and round, the stone is always, by action of this same force, trying to fly off. And the faster you swing it round the more the stone makes effort to get free; and if you let it go, it flies a long way. It is much the same with the honey, as the comb which contains it is swung round in the extractor. The difference is that, as the capping is off the cells, the honey can get free--instead of being confined, like the stone by the string--and so is thrown out.

## Chapter 3.1.1 The _More About Swarms_

I have previously described the issue of a swarm, and the state of things within the hive which leads to it--that it is a forced emigration on a large scale. I have also told you how the bee-keeper often obtains artificial instead of natural swarms when, and as he thinks fit. And I need not add much on this subject, except that it must always be remembered that a good, swarm, whether natural or artificial, must be an early one, according to the old saying :--

'A swarm in May is worth a load of hay,

A swarm in June is worth a silver spoon ;

A swarm in July is not worth a fly.'

It is not true, however, that a July swarm is so worthless, for bees are always useful, and such a late swarm, if not returned to its own hive, can be given to some weak hive in want of bees.

Of second swarms, or 'casts,' as they are called, I must say something. When a first swarm departs it leaves behind it a comparatively empty hive, but one that soon will be full again. It also leaves behind it a queen-cell, out of which in a day or two will issue a new sovereign to take the place of the old one who left with the swarm. There is always one such queen-cell--and generally several--at such swarming-time, each containing a young queen. As soon as the first of these young queens comes into the world, her natural instinct is to destroy at once every royal cell and itsinhabitant, and thus to have no rival to herself. Moved by her jealousy, she tries very hard to do this. And if there are not sufficient bees hatched out to furnish another swarm, or if the weather is unpropitious, the worker-bees allow her to carry out her murderous intention, and, indeed, assist her in the work of destruction. Thus she is left supreme. But, on the other hand, if there are plenty of bees, and the hive is again sufficiently strong to spare another swarm, the young queen, first hatched out, is not allowed to carry out her wish. When she tries to get near a queen-cell the workers prevent and drive her away. At this she becomes excessively angry, and makes a peculiar noise, which may distinctly be heard outside the hive. It sounds like 'Peep,' 'Peep,' uttered harsh and shrill. This is heard by some other young queen yet in her cell, and she also joins in with the same sound, so that it becomes like a challenge to battle given from one to another--the other bees preventing the queen at liberty from taking any unfair advantage over her royal sister in the cell.

When this sound is heard it may be taken as a sure sign of a second swarm in a day or two, for the young queen at liberty, not being allowed to destroy her coming rival, makes resolve herself to leave the hive with as many bees as will accompany her. When this takes place it is said to be a 'Cast.'

Sometimes a third or even a fourth swarm will in succession issue from the same hive.* But these latter should always be prevented if possible, because too weakening to the parent stock. If honey is required, even a second swarm must not be allowed. A great harvest of honey can only be had when the bees do not swarm at all.

With skeps the bee-keeper is to a great extent at the mercy of his bees, and cannot well control these second swarms, but with frame-hives they can always's be prevented ; for after the first swarm has left, he can take care that no queen-cells remain in the hive, except just that one which is needed to supply a new queen for the hive itself, and without another queen the bees, of course, cannot leave the hive in a second swarm.

Virgil describes another way of preventing a swarm, namely, by clipping the wings of the queen--sometimes practised even now.

'The task is easy : but to clip the wings

Of their high-flying arbitrary kings :

At their command, the people swarm away :

Confine the tyrant, and the slaves will stay.'

Virgil (by Dryden).

After the first or second swarm has left, if two young queens happen to issue from their cells, as from a third swarm of Syrian bees. The young queens of these races rarely fight, but live amicably together. I have counted fourteen on a single comb, and the worker bees destroy the supernumeraries after the swarm has issued, sometimes taking a week to complete the slaughter. I am not sure that the workers do not delay the destruction until one of the young queens is ready to become a mother--a further proof of their wonderful instinct'--Rev, G, Raynor.

frequently occurs, at the same time, and there are not sufficient bees for another swarm, nothing remains but one of these two rivals must die. They cannot reign together for any length of time. Which is to live, and which is to die? This important question the worker-bees sometimes decide by encasing, and destroying one, and allowing the other to live. But sometimes the queens themselves fight out the matter to the bitter end.

A royal fight has been thus described by Hunter : -- When two queens meet a duel is certain. Like two gladiators, each first takes a good look at her antagonist. Then they rush to the fight. They seize each other by the legs, making with curved abdomen every effort to insert the sting between the rings of the other's body. They wrestle thus, rolling over and over until one succeeds in giving the deadly stroke. It has been stated that if they get in such a position that both are likely to be stung together, they will separate, and commence the fight anew.'

* But when two twin-born monarchs burst to day, Claiming with equal rights a sovereign's sway, Fiercely they rush, unknowing how to yield, Where crowds receding clear the listed field. Mark how with sharp-edg'd tooth they seize the wing, Curl the firm fold, and point the venom'd sting! Now, as they view the death-fraught danger nigh, With quick recoil, and mutual dread they fly, Now, scorn'd all female fears, each hardened foe Turns to the fight, and dares the coming blow.' *

## Chapter 11 The BEE-KEEPER IN SUMMER.

The swarming season over the bees settle down to summer work, and right merrily does it go on when the weather is favourable, when the warm winds blow, and the sun shines, and the flowers are full of honey.

* Here their delicious task the fervent bees In swarming millions tend ; around, athwart, Through the soft air the busy nations fly, Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube, Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul, And oft, with bold wing, they soaring dare The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.' Thomson's _Seasons._

And now there is plenty of work for the beekeeper as well as the bees. Now is his harvest-time, and he must not neglect his busy workers. Now, more than ever, he must do what is wanted without a day's delay. Success very greatly depends upon everything being done at the proper time. The bee-keeper must'make hay while the sun shines ;' and if he is wise he has prepared things beforehand, and now is ready, as fast as supers are filled, to remove them and to supply others in their place. He will not let his bees remain idle for want of room.

And if he is thus active and careful, and manages well, the quantity of honey he will get, in favourable seasons, is quite astonishing. It is a very common thing to get fifty or sixty pounds of pure good honey in the comb, not only from a single hive, but as an average from all the frame-hives in the apiary. Some experienced bee - keepers take a great deal more than this, even an average of 100 pounds of comb honey, and more of extracted, per hive.*

And all this harvest of honey is of value. If sold it will realise a fair profitable price ; but then it must be carefully taken, and neatly put up for sale. Very much of its value depends upon the clean, attractive form in which it is offered, but of this you will learn elsewhere.

But now once more autumn comes, and it is no longer the time of abundant flowers, and the few flowers there are give but little, if any, honey, except in the heather districts. It is the time when people have their holidays, and the bees think they also may have theirs. But they never take holiday, remember, while they have any work to do. As long as there is honey to be had, and room in which to store it, they will work. And thus it is that many bee-keepers find it most profitable, when ordinary country flowers are over, to take their hives to the heaths, if such are near at hand, for the heather gives beautiful honey, and flowers much later than other honey-giving plants or trees.

At last, however, even the heather is over, and the bees'must rest; and having left nothing to be done at the last moment--as many people do--but having looked forward, and made every preparation, they have both well earned their rest, and can enjoy it.

'Oh, Nature kind! oh, labourer wise!

That roam'st along the summer's ray,

Glean'st ev'ry bliss thy life supplies,

And meet'st prepared thy wintry day.

'Go, envied, go, to crowded gates,

Bear home thy store in triumph gay ;

The hive thy rich return awaits,

To shame each idler of the day.'

Smyth.

The bee-keeper, however, must not quite rest at present, for there is oftentimes much of importance to be done in autumn, especially to those hives which are weak, and short of bees and food, but of all this a guide-book will give information.

There is, however, one operation of which I must here say something, as probably you will frequently hear of it at this autumn season, when it is chiefly practised. It is the operation of 'Driving,' by which the bees in a skep are compelled to come out of their hive, and, leaving all their comb and store behind, to go whither the bee-keeper directs. He knocks at their door. They listen, and with humble submission obey. This sounds marvellous, and indeed appears so to those who for the first time see it done. It calls forth many an exclamatoin of surprise at the bee keeper's power, and of this it is a good exhibition ; but, at the same time, there can be a great deal of