A CHAT ABOUT BEES.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 1, 31 March 1893, Page 6

A CHAT ABOUT BEES.

(By Linda.) Ye musical hounds of the fairy ring, Who hunt for the golden dew, Who track for your game the green coverts of Spring, Till the echoes that lurk in the flower-bells ring With the peal of your elfin crew! How jovous your life, if its pleasures ye knew, Singing ever from bloom to bloom ! Ye wander the summer year’s paradise through, The souls of the flowers are the viands for you, And the air that you breathe perfume. —Anonymous. I Lave often thought I would like to see how I look in print, and the other day a friend suggested that I should write something for the new paper ; for instance, “ A chatty contribution on bee-keeping.” Well, being human, and a woman at that, J must confess that the idea of a comfortable chat pleases me, and right here ” (as the Americans say) I would like to observe that I cannot see why we women are credited with, or are supposed to hold, a monopoly of the love of chat. Why, I have seen men meet on the street and stand chatting for more than half-an-hour, enjoying their chat, too, though, all the time the rain was pouring down heavens hard and this not once or twice, but frequently, so I think the men like a chat quite as well as we do, only they w r on’t confess it. Ido! it is all business.

But this is a digression ; let me get back to my bees, for I love them. A young friend of mine used to say she thought they knew me, for they did not seem to mind my interference in their affairs. Certainly, bee-keeping is -a most interesting, profitable, and healthful occupation ; but, dear me ! how dreadfully fng’htened of them some people are. Just in front of one of my hives there grows a patch of four-leaved clover lovely, large leaves they are, too. I pointed this out to a visitor the other day, hut, though she wanted one very badly, the bees were flying about and she was afraid to go near. It is not much to be wondered at when iv e rememhei that a single sting caused the death of one of America’s most popular authors ; hut, of course, a tragedy of that kind does not often occur. Still, one never knows, and not one of us would like to be a victim. Shelter from cold winds is _indispensable to the profitable working of bees. I have one hive in a corner of the garden, close under the edge, and I get half as much honey again from it as I do from any one of the others. But, there ! one cannot have cosy corners all over the garden, so the others have to do as well as they can. I have them in a shed, hut that is not so good as a corner under the hedge. Of course, in the honej season it is very fatiguing work, stooping over the hives to take the frames out, taking them in to have the honey extracted, then out again; hut the honey is so much nicer than that obtained under the old method -of hee-keeping, that the pleasure of having a much superior article, and more of it, quite compensates for the extra labour.