Buzz a buzz : or, The bees

ALBERT R. MANN
LIBRARY

NEw YorK STATE COLLEGES
OF
AGRICULTURE AND HOME ECONOMICS

AT

CORNELL UNIVERSITY

EVERETT FRANKLIN PHILLIPS

BEEKEEPING LIBRARY

Cornell University

Library

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003194820

Done fre ely into

English

from the German

Vilhelm Buse.

Lonnon: GRIFFITH & FARRAN.

Cuester: PHILLIPSON & GOLDER.
fe

Wrelace,

EXPLANATORY.

I must say a few words in explanation of the somewhat
novel form which my new ‘Bee-Book” has taken, and
which, doubtless, will be a surprise to the many Bee-Friends
who are waiting with exemplary patience for the second
edition of my original ‘‘Bee-Book,” soon about to appear
after an interval of thirty years from the publication of
the first edition.

I happened last year to be at the Cologne Station,
waiting for the train, and employed my spare time in looking
over the book stall for something to read on my way to
Aix-la-Chapelle. The stall was covered with bouks about
the late War. I had returned from a visit to the Battle
Fields of 1870, and was sick of the subject. I wanted some-
thing of a more peaceful nature, and I was turning away,
without making a purchase, when a book met my eye entitled
Schnurrdiburr. What that might mean I knew not, but the
second title, oder die Bienen, was intelligible, and had attrac-
tion enough for me. I opened it, and saw it was profusely
illustrated with very comical cuts. I paid my Thaler and
carried away my prize.

The cuts are reproduced in the book which my readers.
have in their hands. The verses were written up to the
pictures rather than translated from the German text; for
alas! my German is very limited; enough for travelling

iv.

purposes, but hardly enough to enable me to read a Bee-
Book either serious or comical.

RIDENTEM DICERE VERUM QUID VETAT ?

There is much truth lying hid under these comical
stories; still more in the illustrations; and the notes which
I have appended may be found useful even by serious Bee-
Masters.

I promise my readers that they shall have the second
edition of ‘‘My Bre Boox” as perfect as I can make it,
and with as little delay as possible.

I trust it may be much nearer perfection than the first
edition, published under great difficulties, could be, and I
hope it may have as many purchasers as this its forerunner.

Ww. GC. CL

Frodsham, Cheshire,

September, 1872.

Prelade.

AA - — ex

SK

Hail Muse etc.! Bring me Peggy,

My antient steed, now somewhat leggy;
Not him who on Parnassus green

Erst fed, and drank of Hippocrene;

But such, as to supply the trade,

At Nuremburg by scores are made. —

I mount him, and will now indite

A Bee-book for my own delight,

Tll sing of Johnny Dull: his pig,

Made by his bees exceeding big;

And of his daughter fair Christine,

Of her queer lover Dicky Dean,

And of his nephew rogue Eugene —

Of honey-robbers I will tell,

And bears, and bull-frogs, ghosts as well —
All which my readers may discover
Who con this true tale ten times over —
Or make ten other Bee Friends buy it;
For three and six I can supply it.

Fytte I. Bee Life.

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All hail! thou lovely month of May,

With parti-coloured flowers gay!

And hail to you, my darling Bees;

Much wealth you gain on days like these.
From morn to eve a humming sound ~
About the bee-house circles round.

The sentinels, in armour bright,
Keep watch and ward throughout the night;
And drive away, constrained by oath,

The mice, and toads, and Death’s head moth.
1

Bee Life.

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At early dawn ’tis quite a treat

To see them work, they are so neat;

Some clean their house with brooms and mops,
And others empty out the slops.

The architects, by rule and line,

Their future cells with skill define;

The ever toiling workers these —
Meanwhile the Queen, she takes her ease;
Sole mother of the winged nation,

Her only work is propagation.

1*

Bee Life.

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The egg she lays; the nurses hateh
That egg, and in the cradle watch.
The babe to swaddle, and prepare
The pap-boat, is their constant care.

All-day, in regal state, the Queen
Encircled by her court is seen;
Their backs they never rudely turn:
Good manners they by instinct learn.

Bee Life.

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And when night comes she goes to bed,
And on the pillow lays her head;
Whilst by her side her faithful drone
Profoundly snores, for they are one,

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They send for letters ere they rise;
For just at ten they ope their eyes.

Bee Life,

The post office is in a flower,
Which opens at a certain hour.

Miss Crocus keeps it, fresh and fair;
The tresses of her flowing hair
They glitter like the purest gold;
And by her saffron cakes are sold.

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Near is the pothouse where both grog
Is served to Bumble-Bees, and prog ;
And when the Bumble-Bees get groggy,
Their intellect, like men’s, is foggy.

Bee Life.

On rose leaves they their letters write,

Here’s one they either wrote or might.

“Great Queen, we hope you'll swarm to day”;
“For ’is a lovely first of May.”

The messenger this letter takes,
And eke a store of saffron cakes,

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Bee Life.

The Drones they neither work, nor can

Do aught but sleep on a divan;

And smoke their pipes through all the day;
Chibouks these love, and those a clay.
Such is their life — who would not be

A happy little worker Bee;

A Queen’s too high for me, — a Drone,
Such laziness I let alone.

Fytte II, The Pig.

Now Johnny Dull had once a pig, —
*T was far from fat, its bones were big.
To scratch his hide with all his might

Was this poor piggie’s sole delight.

Once on a time it so fell out

He in the garden roamed about:

He chanced to have an itching mood;
The bee house quite convenient stood —

The Pig.

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His hide he scratched; the bees rushed out,
And stung him well from tail to snout —
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! poor piggie cried,
Feeling these daggers pierce his hide.

John Dull, who heard the awful clatter,
Said, “Bless the pig! why what’s the matter ?”
2

The Pig. 10

He came, — he saw —, his porker, that :
Was erst all lean, was now all fat.

It chanced a pig-jobber that way

Was passing by; he stopped to say

“How much friend Dull for that fat pig?”

“Just ten pounds ten, for he is big” —

“Done” — “done again” — the bargain’s struck —
John Dull he found himself in luck,

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11

Bee Song.

And blest his bees, and in their praise
He chanted forth these jocund lays.

Minph,

Fly forth, dear Bees, ’tis morn, fly forth
To South, to North, to West, to Hast;
And cull from every fragrant flower
A honied feast.

Fly Home, dear Bees, ’tis Eve, fly home!

From North, from South, from East, from West;

Store in your cells your luscious spoil,

And sweetly rest.

Swarm Watching. 12

The air is clear the day is warm,
John Dull sits watching for a swarm;

What’s this? he thought; while I’ve been talking
My bees are all prepared for walking,

Staves in their hands, and on his back

Each carries his provision pack.

He strains his sight into the hole;
“They'll swarm to day — upon my soul.”

His brain swims round, his eyes feel heavy,
He sees no more the increasing levee.

Swarm Watching.

His nose, as down and down it drops,
His half used pipe of ’bacca stops. —

Buzz, buzz! — Hum, hum! a joyful sound,
Echoes the teeming hive around.

All gather at the trumpet’s clang

To hear their noble Queen’s harangue. —

138

The Queen’s Speech.

“Up children up, to swarm prepare”
“The honey thief sits stinking there.”
“And we who love the scent of roses”
“Have stale tobacco in our noses.”
“We toil, we sweat from early May”
“To lay up for a rainy day.”

“Our cells we fill, and at the Fall”

“He sulphers us, and takes it all.”

“So let us one and all deride”

“This honey thief, this Bee-i-cide,”

“Up children, up! to swarm prepare”
“Whilst Master Dull sits snoring there.”
“A devil he, upon my troth:”

“Buzz! buzz! Hum! Hum! The swarm is off!”

14

15

The Queen’s Flight.

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Fytte III. The Rivals.

“Nothing like soup,” is still the ery

In each well ordered family;

So on Christine the duty fell

To cull the herbs they love so well;

And every morn, the charming maid
Within her father’s garden strayed,
Parsley to pluck, wherewith to make

The soup, which they at noon should take.

Her father’s garden marched, I ween,
With that of Mr. Richard Dean;

A school-master by trade was lhe,

And she esteemed him — maidenly.

But by degrees, within her soul

A softer, tenderer passion stole;

Love — full of joy and full of sorrow,
Sunshine to day, and storm to-morrow, —
Love may forget a parsley bed,

And dream of golden flowers instead.

17

The Rivals.

And so the maiden stooped to cull a

Crocus, and an auricula.
These flowers, together-bound, she placed

Just half a foot above her waist.

Then sat her down beneath the shade,
And thought about him — happy maid.

The Rivals.

Now Mr. Dull a nephew had,

A most audacious, awkward lad ;
Some fifteen summers he had seen
And still was very, very green.

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Christine he eyed, and with desire
He felt his little soul on fire.

With cat like pace behind the wall
He crept (he was not near as tall.)

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The Rivals, 19

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Leapt up, and from the affrighted Miss
Ravished the much desired kiss.

“Stop little monster”, and a whack
Descended on his upturned back —
(The place I cannot more define

Within the limits of a line)

— Side, I should add, but wherefore tell
What every school-boy knows so well.
Dick Dean so roundly plied the stick
That rogue Eugene skedaddled quick.

The Rivals.

20
Then Richard raised the fainting maid,
And many a tender thing he said ;
Her chin he chucked, his arm he placed
About her little taper waist ;
Her flowers admired, and begged them too: 7

Christine, she knew not what to do;

21

The Rivals.

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But blushed assent; the flowers he took,
And thanked her with an ardent lock.

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“Sweets are repaid by sweets I wiss”,

He said, and he too had a kiss.

The Rivals.

“Adieu and — au revoir —” to night

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Behind your father’s Bee-house, when
The Church-clock shall have sounded ten.
Eugene, still smarting with the cane;

His heart on fire, with jealous pain,

O’erheard the place of assignation,"

And crept out from his hidden station;
Rushed to the Bee-house, found John Dull
Asleep, and snoring like a bull.

“Wake, Uncle, wake” in startling tone

He shouted, “for your swarm is gone.”

22

Fytte IV. The Swarm.

John Dull, awakened from his slumber,
Observed his stock’s diminished number ;
His apple trees he searched, and found
The swarm some ten feet from the ground;

hive, and ladder;

No Bee master was ever gladder.

Got his bee dress, his

24

The Swarm.

Mounted, and without any trip

Got all the bees within the skip —

;”? as he spoke

“Well done I have them

The ladder’s top-most rung it broke,

The Swarm. 25

Crack! Crack! and, as I hope to thrive,
The same befel the other five;

The bees rush forth and quit the hive!

4

26

The Swarm.

John on his knees, and free from harm
Marked well the disappearing swarm.

Two boys were making pies of dirt
Close by, and playing with a squirt; :
They squirted at the bees to stop ’em,

Squirted in vain; they could not drop ’em.
4*

The Swarm.

Old Sally met them with her mop,
And Sammy trumpeted, stop! stop!

And Dick and Bob and Bill they screeched,
But not a sound these flyers reached —

27

The Swarm. 28

A Sweep upon the chimney top
Showered soot upon them, and cried “Stop!”

4
‘When they had cleared the churches roof,
Sam Dutton put his gun to proof;

The Swarm,

John Dull came panting up behind
And could no other stopper find;

“We stamped and swore and scratched his head,
A pretty dance I have been led,”

“Confound the bees; I’ve got a warming”
Some way I'll find to stop their swarming;

A hive I'll build as big as two,

Sold by Mancubrian P. tt. gr. w.

29

Fytte V. The Patent Monster Hive.

Adverse events reveal the real man,
So Horace wrote, refute this truth who can.

And John Dull to its full completion wrought

The inspiration of his sudden thought.

“Room for the swarm!” This is great Nature’s law,
And so he built two monstrous hives of straw. —

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“Good morning neighbour” from across the fence
Cried out Dick Dean. ‘May I without offence”

The Patent Monster Hive,

Ask what your making.” ‘Why these blessed bees,
I find them creatures plaguey hard to please.

“Plaguey! dont say so — they’re a real pleasure,”
“T love to watch them when I have the leisure ;”
“Besides each scholar knows in antient days,”
“How Maro sung his little darlings praise.”

“And when the Roman legions brought alarm”
“To every inmate of his Mantuan farm, —”

“Smiling he stood, amidst his winged host;”

“The mailed warriors fled and left him at his post.”

“All this I know — Beekeeping would be charming,”

“If there was never such a thing as swarming.”

“But grubs my friend! your bees are sure to breed,”
“Swarms come from grubs, as corn crops come from seed.”
“Grubs you must have; and when your swarming’s done,”

“Two hives you'll find, where erst you had but one.”

“Bother the grubs; I know a better way,”
“My patent monster hives, they are the things to pay.”

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32

Vision of Virgil.

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Fytte VI. The Bear.

Eugene would often take his lunch,

Of dry black bread a monstrous hunch,
Into a wood — ere he got through it
He wished he’d some nice honey to it —
When all at once it chanced a bee

He saw creep up a hollow tree;
Another came, then two, and three.
“Hurrah! there’s honey here for me,”
Eugene exclaimed, “No more I'll eat
This nasty bread, but have a treat.” —

“Honey for ever!” up he clomb
To the trees fork — the honey comb
He saw below him in the beech
Hollowed by age, beyond his reach —

The Bear. 34

His hold he missed and sad to tell
Down midst the honey combs he fell;

Into the cakes his boots went crush,
As though it were mere muddy slush.
5*

The Bear.

Honey he found but every school-boy knows
He cannot eat his sweetmeats with his clothes.

Another Bee Hunter that way

One Mister Bruin chanced to stray;
A dancing Bear by trade was he,
But fond of honey — certainly!

35

The Bear, . 36

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“Tf I smell right here’s honey comb” ;
He said, or thought; then upwards clomb.

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Eugene below, half dead with fear,
Saw the bears hinder’s drawing near,

Mount upwards by this living ladder;
Sure never little lad was gladder.

37

The Bear. 38

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Meanwhile John Dull, a spying round,
The self same honey tree had found;

Up to the fork himself he reared:
When Bruin’s ugly?mug appeared.
Augh, back he fell through utter fright;
Close to his tail did Braun alight;
And by Braun’s heels Braun’s parasite,

Braun seized John Dull with either claw,
Just as himself was seized before ;

John pulling out his hunting knife
Cut off his tail to save his life;

39

The Bear. 40

Sam Dutton here did interveen,
“To shoot that grizzly bear I mean”!
But Braun was nowhere to be seen.

Early next morn came sawyers two,
And sawed the Honey tree right through ;

The Bear. 41

He drew them out, and licked them clean;
Such blacking ne’er before was seen!
While John Dull, from the luscious store,
Filled twenty honey pots or more.

Fytte VII. The Frog.

“The appetite with eating giows” =

This truth my little story shows.

For many a day the rogue Eugene

To John Dull’s bee-hives creeps unseen;

Smokes them, — Puff! — Puff! — then boldly takes

The much desired honey cakes.

When lo! one day the angry swarm
Out on him rushed — the day was warm;
6 *

The Frog. 43

They covered him from top to toe,
Behind, before, above, below,
They buzzed, they crawled, they stung him, — Oh!

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Eugene half stifled, for his nose

And mouth were covered like his clothes,
Rushed to the nearest water-pit,

And took a header into it;

Rose through the Bee-besprinkled foam,
And ran, all dripping, to his home.

The Frog.

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Felt quite unwell! The doctor came
And to his illness gave a name.

“By aid of careful auscultation,”
“And thinking on his late natation,”
“I think, I think that I deskiver,”
“A frog within this dear boy’s liver.”

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45

The Frog.

“Tll get him up.” A bee he took,
Impaled it on a fishing-hook ;

Played it within his open jaws,

A bite! and up the frog he draws;

The Frog. 46

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Frog to the open window took,
And cut the line close by the hook;

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Frog to the pool, rejoicing, hopped;
And plump into the water dropped.
Then chantcd his Batrachian lay
Quite in th’Artistophanic way;
“Brekekekek, coax, coax,

Coax, coax, Brekekekek.”

Fytte VIII. The Ghost.

Forbidden fruit is sweet they say;
And so its gathered every day;

And should this fruit be sweet before,
Forbid it, and ’tis ten times more.
Eugene oft coveted the pot

Of honey that John Dull had got
Placed on the shelf above his head,
For safety, when he went to bed;

The Ghost. 48

John slept, John snored; then ope’d his eyes .
And stared about him with surprise.

“What's this I see come crawling on?”
“Sure, ’tis a strange phenomenon.”

The Ghost. 49

A winged beast, with tail, and claws
On his four feet, which end in paws.

With stealthy pace on on it crawled,
John turned upon his face, and bawled.
7

The Ghost.

John ’s hair as this strange beast drew near
His night cap raised for very fear.

On its hind legs itself it reared,
As it its squalling master neared,

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50

The Ghost. 51

Nearer still nearer — till he got

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The much desired honey pot.

The Ghost. 52

Turns tail and runs; whilst Johnnie sits
Bolt up, divested of his wits.

A pearly drop on every hair
Hangs pendant, not from heat, but fear.

The Ghost.

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Eugene his garret sought, and there
Ate honey, like his friend the bear,
The pot he emptied mighty soon,
Using his paws intead of spoon.

Fytte IX. The Honey Thief.

The flowers which Christine culled at morn
At eve were withered, and forlorn.

53

The Honey Thief. 54

These withered flowers Dick sadly took,
And placed them in his music book;
Then put the book upon the table,
And pressed, the best that he was able.

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The pressed flowers took a wondrous shape,
Which seemed the human form to ape;
And in these specimens, Christine

Is imaged, and her Dicky Dean.

The Honey Thief.

Ten sounded from the old church tower —
Before the last stroke of the hour,

Close by the bee-house Richard Dean,

His last new coat on, might be seen;
Christine, arrayed in all her charms,

Was there, and rushed into his arms,

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“Hist! what’s that sound?” alack! alack!
A thief, with crotchet at his back —
A Honey thief — ill may he thrive.

The Honey Thief.

Each crept into a monster hive

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The thief peered round; “This will I take” —
“This big one will my fortune make.”

56

The Honey Thief. 57

Then hoisted Dicky, hive and all,
Upon his back so lean, so tall —

“Halt,” shouted Dicky, and the head
Of his strange monture bonneted ;

The Honey Thief.

Held him down tight, and with a stick
Passed ’twixt his legs!, secured him quick.

And Christine, what must she have felt
While Bruin round about ber smelt?
Out of the hive she softly stole;

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58

The Honey Thief.

In crept the bear and through the hole
At the hive’s top he poked his nose ;
Christine her ready courage shows,

She through his nose ring passed a stick,
Which from the ground she happed to pick.

59

The Honey Thief, 60

Poor Bruin rolled upon his back,
And grunted out alas! alack!

So after all these strange alarms,
Again Dick rushed into her arms.

The Honey Thief. 61

John Dull by chance=came strolling by,

His hives upset first met his eye;

He saw they both were tenanted —
Amazed he looked, then ‘scratched his head;

Peered all around, espied Christine

And her own true love Dicky Dean;
Behind the bee house they were placed,
And Dicky’s arm was round her waist.

The Honey Thief. 62

“Come here” he cried “you little chit,”
“T understand it not a bit” —

Upon their knees they both fell down,
And the whole mystery made known.

The father heard them all declare,
Then gave his blessing to the pair.
“Bless you my Christine: Dick I bless”
‘“‘With stores of wedded happiness.”

The Honey Thief. 63

Then came the dramatis personae;
The tall, the short, the fat, the bony.

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Sam Dutton thought to get a shot,
Now Bruin could no longer trot.
But Sally interposed her mop,
And to his shooting put a stop.

64

The Honey Thief.

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The night watch came, and ’twixt them bore
The skewer’d thief to the prison door.

And came the bear leader as well,
And took poor Bruin to his cell.

The Honey Thief. 65

Sam with his trumpet blew a rally,
And Hip, Hurrah! cried ancient Sally.

Long live both empty hives and full,
Long live Dick Dean and Johnny Dull.

Fytte X. The Queen Bee’s Fete.

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The night is warm, and many a nose
Upturned, is snoring in repose;
Whilst every tree and every flower
Rejoices in that witching hour.

And o’er John Dull his garden beds,
The moon her gentle influence sheds.

The Queen Bee’s Fete.

Tis May the first, the Queen bee’s féte!
And she, in all her regal state,
Beneath her fairy hall of roses

With her beloved drone reposes.

She nods a sign; the bombardier
Awakes the echoes far and near,

67

The Queen Bee’s Fete. 68

Whilst tinkle, tinkle, clang! clang! bang!
The Court musicians’ strain out-rang.
The fly he blows the shrill trompette,
The gnat the softer clarionette ;

The grasshopper, a fiddler he —

The drummer is the bumble bee. —

The Willow-beetle, such a swell,
With young Sabina waltzes well;

The Queen Bee’s Fete. 69

Liz too and Kitty have their swains,
Who one and all are taking pains
To make themselves agreeable,
Each to his own peculiar belle.

The Stag-Beetle, that beau precise,
Regales his partner with an ice,

The Queen Bee’s Fete. 70

The Moon, upon the Apple Tree,
Surveys, well pleased, the revelry.

Two cockchafers soon quit the dance;
They cannot bear the piercing glance’
Of their fair partners — see them set
Within a private cabinet.

They smoke, they sing, they drink until
Their little polished paunch they fill.

The Queen Bee’s Fete.

Their homes they cannot find — alas!
They tumble backward on the grass.
“To whit” “To whoo” policeman Owl,
The wisest of all feathered fowl,
Hoots out; “why here’s a precious go,”
“Drunk and incapable, ho! ho!”

“So come along, I know you well;” —
He said, and drove them to his cell.
Were they discharged? No, never more,
That cell it was an abattoir.

The owl supped on the elder Brother,
And for his breakfast ate the other.

So you, who think a dance divine,
Mind — never take excess of wine.

71

The Queen Bee’s Fete. 72

The Evening star went flicker — flick —
Over the bedroom candlestick;

And round its silver radiance shed

To light the sleepy moon to bed.

T’ve done — I doff my riding gear,
And order Pegasus — HIS BEER.

Hotes ow DAnzz-v-DBuzs,

APIARIAN, CLASSICAL, POETICAL, AND NONDESORIPT.

PRELUDE.

Hart Muss! &c.—An Invocation to the Muses, both terse and expressive.
Possibly not quite original, as I have a dim recollection that a
certain obscure poet called Byron, whose works are now well nigh
forgotten, made use of it.

Peccy.—A name dear to the writer, as that of the first pony which
he ever had of his very own—the gift of a kind Godfather—of
a different sex indeed from Pegasus. There is, therefore, some
hopes that the breed may have been preserved, but, as far as my
experience goes, I may regretfully say,

Quando ullain inveniam parem.

I have, alas, grown stout; and it requires a strong cob to carry
twenty stone, and go lively under it as well. Such a mount fetches
a long price, which does not suit a short purse; and such God-
fathers, alas! abierunt ad plures ; their successors give no such gifts
to their Godchildren.

Parnassus GREEN.—Not at all the same sort of place as Paddington
Green. The latter is now familiarly haunted by our Comic song
writers, those most dolorous of all funny men. Parnassus Green
stands, from the necessity of rhyme, for Green Parnassus.

Hirppockene.—The first horse driuking fountain, and produced, moreover,
by a stamp of Peggy’s hoof. This would be a good subject for a
drinking fountain of the present day. I make a present of the idea
to any young sculptor who has a commission from one of our
merchant princes, and is hard up for a subject. The most ap-
proved receipt for developing a poetic temperament was to sleep
on Parnassus, and drink of Hippocrene in the morn. Persius has it,

“‘Non fonte labra prolui caballino,
Nec in bicipiti somniasse Parnasso
Memini, ut repente.sic poeta prodirem.”
No more have I; and perhaps some of my readers may say that I
should have done better had I waited for a sleep on Parnassus, and
a drink of Hippocrene before I began to write. All I can say is, I
hope to take one next year, if I visit Greece,

Fyrrre I.—Page 1-7.—The fun of this first Fytte will be ‘‘real nuts” to
every Bee-master. The whole economy of a Hive is viewed from a
human stand-point. The sentinels watching with their own stings
in their hands as lances; the early labours of the chamber and
house maids ; the architects setting out the day’s work ; the swaddling
clothes and pap boat for the Grub Royal; the State of the Queen;
the idleness of the drones: all is well told, at least in the wood cuts.

“Pig IN THE GARDEN STRAYED ABouUT.’’—Fage 8.—A very improper
place for Pig to take his constitutional walk. The wicket gate
which leads to your Hives should be always properly secured, or
results very different from the fattening of a pig may be produced.
For what is possible, though not very probable, see one of the early
chapters of Maryatt’s Mr. Midshipman Easy.

‘“WaS ERST AL] LEAN, WAS NOW ALL Fat.’”’—Page 10.—The alteration
of the animal tissue in consequence of a sting is very wonderful ;
it is certainl, not fat which is deposited. So that this method of
getting Bacon Pigs ready for market, though it would save corn,
would not be satisfactory to the Bacon Curer when he puts his
flitches in salt, still less to the cook, when frying a rasher.

“FLY FORTH, DEAR BEES, ’TIS MORN, FLY ForTH.’’—Page 11.—I shall
be obliged to any one of my many friends, skilled in Musical Com-
position, if they will set this original Bee song. The prelude and
refrain offer a fine opportunity for a Buzz-a-Buzz effect. On receipt
of a satisfactory production I will forward to the Composer a bound
copy of Buzz-a-Buzz, with the translator's autograph. Inestimable
reward !

Joun DULL sits warTinc For A Swarm.—Page 1l—as I have done for
many an hour, and lost the swarm after all. John Dull drops asleep
whilst watching. I have often ceased watching just as the swarm
was about to rise. The Bees choose their own time, which is not
always that which the Bee master would for them. But the whole

subject of swarming, and how to regulate it, or prevent it, will
be fully treated of in the forthcoming second edition of “My Bee
Book.”

“THIS HONEY THIEF, THIS BrEE-1-crpE.”’—Page 14.—This latter word is
the invention of the learned Doctor Cumming, the Times’ Bee-
master. See a most stunning article on his Bee-Book in the Satur-
day Review, the second or third number for December, 1864. The
proverbial thickness of a Scotchman’s skin can alone have pre-
served him from dying from the effects of this stinging article.
*Docte Commenas utriusque linque’”’ say I.

“Curt a Crocus anp an AvRicuLa.’’—Page 17.—The last word was
indeed a difficult one to hitch into rhyme. It has, however, been,
I think, successfully overcome. I might have added another line,
and made ». triplet,

“Flowers which her Richard loved particular,”

but I had compassion on the ears of my readers.

“THE PLACE I CANNOT MORE DEFINE,

“WITHIN THE LIMITS OF A LinE.”’—Page 19.
I well remember, when an Eton boy, walking in the playing fields
with a late revered and beloved prelate, then a Fellow of Eton,
whose memory is dear to every Etonian who knew him, as that of a
kind friend and finished scholar,—such as alas! seem extinct in these
degenerate days. He was living in a picturesque old house, “The
Warf,” now destroyed, that his two sons, then at Eton, might
still have the benefit of home associations. His daughters, and their
French governess, accompanied us in this well-remembered stroll.
Mademoiselle was very curious as to how the Eton boys were pun-
ished. She wanted all the details, and asked if they were whipped
on their backs. The question made us all look foolish, but Dr. L.
with a twinkle of his eyes, which marked his appreciation of the
situation, answered, “A little lower down, Mademoiselle, a little
lower down.”

“FrrowED HIS Bree Dress, nis Hive, His LappER.’’—Page 23.—A veri-
table Guy Mr. Dull looks in his defensive armour! A simpler and
equally efficient dress may be made of a black net bag, large
enough to be drawn over a straw or felt hat, with a brim suffi-
ciently wide to keep the net away from the prominent organ, the

nose, and long enough to be buttoned into the Bee-master’s coat.
A couple of elastic bands round the wrists will prevent the Bees
crawling up his sleeves; the same round the ancles will secure
the most timorous Bee master. ‘A Lady’s dress I cannot pretend
to regulate.” See “My Bee Book,’ where many instances of the
effect of stings are given. When swarming, Bees are particularly
gentle, and never sting, except when some are crushed. A true
Bee-master will despise such defensive armour, but trust rather to
his gentleness and knowledge of the habits of his Bees for his
immunity from stings. Should he be stung, nevertheless, in spite of
all precautions, let him instantly extract the sting, and apply a drop
of honey to the place. This will immediately allay the smarting
pain, and the swelling, except in certain places, as the eye or lip,
be trifling. Lau de Luce as it is commonly called, that is, strong
ammonia, is another excellent remedy; a small bottle should be
kept in every apiary in the box of ‘‘needments.” But above all,
let the Bee-master eschew gloves, specially when delicate operations
are to be performed. A cat might as soon expect to catch mice
in mittens, as a Bee-master to capture a Queen with hands encased
in, and fingers stiffened by, thick woollen gloves, as recommended
by some.

“Somz way I’'nn rinp To stop THis SwaRmina.”—Page 29.—It is not to
be done by monster hives, or ventilation, or by adding supers. If
the Bees will swarm, they will. They are a stiff-necked genera-
tion, and know their own business, at least they think so, better
than we men can teach it them. Our objects, however, are slightly
different. Their’s to propagate and preserve their species: ours to
secure the maximum amount of honey in any given locality. I
have known u swarm sent forth from a Ruche a (air libre, a French
Hive, which I worked in New Zealand. The Combs and Bees were
entirely exposed to the external air, which was not then particu-
larly warm. But a swarm was ready to go, so off they went. For
full particulars of this remarkable instance see ‘‘My Bee Book,’’
second edition, To regulate, not to prevent swarming should be
the Bee-master’s aim. More of this hereafter. I here give, by
the kindness of Mr. Alfred Neighbour, illustrations of the sort
of hive by which alone this can be accomplished, viz., the Bar
Frame hive. Originally of German invention, it, with various modi-
fications, has been widely adopted both on the Continent and in
America; and every Bee-master in England who claims the title of
scientific, would do well to supply himself at once. Each honey
comb, it will be seen, is built in a sepsrate bar frame like a picture.

They are ranged to the number of 9, 11, or 13, in a strong box,
and each is both moveable and interchangeable with those of any

other hive. Swarming may be checked in any particular stock
by cutting out the Queen Cells. The great production of drones

can be regulated by limiting the amount of drone cell in any
hive, and altogether prevented by removing it all from a stock
hive, about the purity of whose strain there is the least doubt;
whilst again, it may be encouraged in a pure blooded stock hive,
by inserting at the proper time an additional bar containing drone

comb. Any man handy with tools may make them for himself at
the cost of the materials, and they will last a lifetime. I can supply

my friends with as many as they require at half u guinea, for which
they pay double or treble in the shops; whilst those who think nothing
can be good except it is high-priced, and do not like the trouble of
making their own hives, may go to any cost they like. The preceding
woodcut represents w hive on this principle, but with certain modi-
fications, which may be obtained of Mr. Neighbour, 149, Regent-
street, and will suit the class of Bee keepers last mentioned. Mr.
Neighbour has, I may mention, made arrangements for supplying
Ligurian Queens of the greatest purity.

“A DANCING BEAR BY TRADE WAS HE,

“ AnD HONEY LOVED EXCEEDINGLY.”’—Page 36.
This “Bar” story is an addition to, and improvement on, one which I
recollect to have read in some American publication. A man who
had dropped into a hollow tree is hoisted up by the same “living
ladder.”” He, if I remember rightly, grasped the hinders of the Bear
with one hand, and with the other prodded him with his Bowie
knife, so as to change his descending into an ascending motion.

Honey Caxes.—The French use the word Gateaux. I wish the name
“Honey Cakes’’ were universally adopted by Bee-masters. It would
supply a meaning which the word “comb” does not at all. A honey
comb may be as dry as dust, whilst the “‘honey cake’’ places before
the eyes of the imagination a full comb well sealed over, with here
and there a drop of clear honey oozing out, as a sample of the
store within. Perfectly sealed honey cakes may be kept without
deterioration through the winter, by wrapping them up separately
in clean writing paper, and then packing them away in a tin, each
cake being placed as it stood in the hive. If Bar-Frame Hives
are used, the cakes should not be cut away from the frame till
wanted; they should be stored away in some close box, fitted to
receive them.

“AND COVER HIM FROM TOP TO TOE.”’—Fage 43.—Bee literature contains
many instances of persons having been completely enveloped in a
swarm of Bees, who by remaining perfectly still did not receive a
single sting. Old Thorley, in his MeAuroo\oy.a tells the story
of his maid-servant being so covered in a manner very quaint and
charming. Perfect quiet under these circumstances is essential to, and
will secure, safety; whilst any thing which can enrage 20,000
soldiers, armed with a poisoned dart, may lead to fatal results.
Since I wrote the above, a story has appeared in the newspapers,
and is, I fear a true one, as names, dates and places are given, of

“Ty

a sting having been fatal to u lady accustomed to the management
of bees. Any person who has this idiosyncrasy had better give bees
a wide berth.

Dersxiver.’’—Page 44.—There was evidently a taste of Milesian
blood in this learned doctor. ’Tis fortunate that it was so, for
“discover”? and “liver’’ would not rhyme.

“ BREKEKEKEX, Coax, Coax,
“Coax, Coax, BREKEKEKEX.”’—Page 46.

Is the refrain of the well-known chorus in the Frogs of Aristo-
phanes. Any one with an accurate ear, who has been so happy
as to assist at a chorus of Bull Frogs in full song in the sweet
spring tide, sacred to love and melody, must have felt how accu-
rately the great Comic Poet noted down their song. I do not believe
that in the two thousand years which have elapsed since that time
there has been a single note altered in their love ditty. I have
never been in Greece, and so cannot testify to the musical powers of
the Frogs of Boeotia; but I have had that pleasure both in Spain and
in the neighbourhood of Constantinople: in both instances under very
favourable circumstances, which I will relate. In June, 1855, during
the Crimean war, I was at Constantinople, the guest of Lord Napier,
then Chief Secretary to the British Embassy in that city. He was
residing at that lovely place, Therapia, the summer retreat of our
Ambassador and his suite. I had pitched my little tent in a grass
meadow, close to Lord Napier’s snug house. His hospitality by day
was unbounded, but straitened as he was for room by night, he was
not sorry to entertain a guest who delighted in camping out, and
brought with him the means of doing so. Not fifty yards from my
tent was a dark stagnant pool, overshadowed by trees, and every
night and all night long the Bull frogs, from their reedy habita-
tions, sang “‘ Brekekekex, Coax, Coax,” whilst above the water, and in
and out of the dark shadows of the trees, the fire flies flickered
about in their ever varying gambols. It was as though Taglioni, re-
splendent with Jewels, had been dancing her very best to the strains
of a Scotch bag-pipe. Again, I was in the noble town of Seville
at Easter, 1867, twelve years later, during which time I had been
hard at work in England, and “no holiday had seen,” so by that
time I needed one. Not a hundred yards from the glorious Cathe-
dral, behind the Alcazar, the old Palace of the Moors, is a large
orange garden, and in the midst of it a square tank, of Moorish work,
used for irrigation. The garden was tenanted by 1 widow woman
who owned a dozen or 80 magnificent stall-fed milch cows, and

thither I resorted early every morning, after visiting the Cathedral,
for the sake of uw glass of new milk, and a lesson in Spanish from
her two little daughters aged respectively nine and ten, Incar-
nacion (the last c pronounced th) and Salud. Commend me to two
chattering little girls, when their shyness has once worn off, as the
best teachers of a new language. One glorious morning I was
sitting on the edge of the aforesaid tank, inhaling the delicious
perfume of the orange blossoms, when a Frog struck up his
“Brekekekex, Coax Coax’’ from the still water, and at the same time
the air was resonant with the sweet song of the Nightingale. I
pride myself on knowing somewhat of the languages of Birds,
Beasts, and (Fishes? No! they are mutum pecus, but let us say) Bull
Frogs so I listened attentively, and found the Nightingale and Bull
Frog, were each of them serenading his own wife, arboreal, and
aquatic. Each wife thought her husband the very best singer in
the world: that not a note of his song could be altered for the
better ; and both Nightingale and Bull Frog thought the other singer
a bore. I noted down the whole of this musical contest at the time.
It is quite in the way of one of Virgil’s Amceboean Bucolics. Not
Corydon and Thyrsis, but Batrachos and Philomela were contending
for the prize. It is too long to insert here, but may be had of my pub-
lishers, under the title of “ Bull Frog and Nightingale ;*’ an Apologue,
price 6d. But the sum of the whole matter is this: I do not
believe, ‘“‘pace Darwinii nostri dicatur,’”’ that natural selection, and
conjugal preference has had the effect of altering or improving the
Nightingale’s song in the last two thousand years. It could not be
louder or better, and I trust may last my time unchanged, whilst on
the evidence of Aristophanes’ chorus we know that Bull Frogs, then,
as now, sang ‘‘ Brekekekex, Coax, Coax,’ and that song only.

Tue Hongy Pot.—Page 47-52.—This Fytte, comical as it is in itself, is
particularly valuable as instructing the untravelled Britisher in the
peculiarities of a German bedstead; far too short for all who have
not by some Procrustcean process been reduced to the normal height
of five feet, no inches! the upper sheet sown to the coverlid,
with no possibility of tucking it in, and liable to fall off the sleeper
altogether. No blankets, but a mountain of feather-bed piled above,
which either stifles you in summer, or rolling off, leaves you to
freeze in the winter. Yet in such u bed as this what wonderful
positions Mr. Dull managed to assume under the influence of fear.
Imitate him, my gentle reader, if you are still young and active,
and then you will appreciate his coutortions.

“A Honzy THIEF, ILL MAY HE THRIVE.’’—Page 56.—Every Bee keeper
will echo this wish. I know no sight more piteous than an apiary
the night after it has been plundered. Light Hives upset, and lying,
with the combs all broken, on the ground. The Bees crawling about
in wild confasion around their violated homes, lately so neat, and
now the very picture of desolation. In vain they attempt to repair
the damage which the spoiler’s hand has created; whilst the stands
where the heavy stocks stood the evening before, are one and all tenant-
less. Many devices to protect Hives from robbers have been tried.
Wooden boxes are tightly screwed to the bottom board from below,
whilst the bottom board itself is strongly bolted to the stand. This
will indeed protect a hive from anything but « powerful crow bar.
But the remedy is worse than the disease, as it prevents your ever
changing or cleaning the bottom board, and is, in many ways,
inconvenient. The best preservative I can think of is to have a
savage dog, savage to all but his master, with a strong chain, not
fastened to his kennel, but ending in an iron ring, which can slide
along a small pole placed horizontally about a foot from the ground
in front of the Hives. I have seen this mode of defence adopted
in Germany for the protection of the valuable Leech ponds, which
are there fattened for the market. It answers for the defence of
Leeches, and if so, why not for Bees.

“Many A NOSE, UPTURNED, WAS SNORING IN ReEpossu.’’—Page. 66.—
My readers will doubtless remember, as I confess to have done
when penning the above line, the opening cf Southey’s Thalaba,
and the inimitable parody thereof in the Rejected Addresses.
When a thing has been done excellently well, it is folly to again
attempt the same with a certainty of failure before our eyes. We
verse makers do not steal from each other; we are all one brother-
hood, and Corbies nae pike out corbies een. But we convey—conveys
the word, says glorious Will.

“AND BETWEEN THEM BORE,

“THE FELON TO THE PRISON DOOR.’’—Page 66.
This mode of removing a captive would have suited that extinct
species of our protective force, that of the Dogberry and Verges
order, and may be recommended to our new police as more merciful,
and less grating to the feelings of a prisoner than the present
mode of “running a man in;’’ especially as they generally get hold of
the wrong person. A police sedan would enable the innocent captive
to conceal his features from the tail of little boys and idle quid-
nunes, specially if he were carried like our honey thief head down-

wards,

Tue last Chapter is like the first, written in the style of the Butterfly’s
Ball and the Grasshopper’s feast, and is, it seems to me, no less
admirable. If I pride myself on anything in this translation it is
on the concluding lines:

“The evening star went flicker—flick—
Over the bedroom candlestick ;
And round its silver radiance shed
To light the sleepy moon to bed.”

“T’vp pone I DOFF MY RIDING GEAR,

“AND ORDER Peacasus—HIS BEER.”’—-Page 72.
Baierische Bier is infinitely superior to any Hippocrene. But no
drink in the world can hold a candle to genuine ‘“Wienische Bier,”’ as
it comes cool drawn from the cellar. The Romans knew not beer, and
so had to put up with “Falernian,” or even the “vile Coecubum.”
I say put up, for the wine that now goes by the name of Falernian is
detestable. I suppose, however, that two thousand years ago it
was far more carefully made, as I trust it may again be in
“Ttalia Unita.’”’ The Romans, knew not beer, but the Greeks
had tasted it, though brewed by the hands of barbarians. In
Xenophon’s Retreat of the Ten Thousand we are told that they
came upon a race of people from whom they got

"EK «Quay med.

Let us then leave Pegasus to enjoy his drink of barley wine, though
like Baron Munchausen’s famous steed, he hath not the wherewithal
to stow away his beer. My dear old Peggy, alluded to in the first
of this series of notes, and therefore the fittest subject for a wind up,
was, when hard worked, very fond of a quart of good ale, with
half a quartern loaf broken into it; she would drink up the ale
at a draught, then quickly munch the sop, and start with fresh
vigour for another ten-mile trot.

CORRIGENDA.

The reader is asked to exvuse the following errors, excusable—as for the sake of
having its original wood blocks, the work, with the exception of the notes, was printed
abroad.

Page 6, for ’ts read ?’is.

Page 35 should be—“ But every sweet-toothed school-boy knows,
He can’t eat honey with his toes.”

Page 36, for hinder’s read hinders.
Page 70, for Ap le Tree read Apple Tree.

PHILLIPSON AND GOLDER, PRINTERS, CHESTER.

i

Cornell University Library

SF 523.8978
Buzz a buzz :or,

i

The bees /done freely i

wu

4924 003 194 B20 mane, pat