SOMETHING BETTER THAN FINANCE IN BEE

KEEPING.

"Why don't you old fellows like Dr. Miller, J. E. Crane, and yourself tell us something of the financial success of your forty to fifty years of beekeeping? I am thinking of going into beekeeping; but unless there is money in the venture, I do not care for the undertaking. How much have you laid aside from the bees since the year 1869, the year you embarked in apiculture?"

Well, before saying any thing regarding the thing our correspondent wants to know, allow me to say that my advice to the man who has no ideas regarding beekeeping other than the "money there is in the venture," is, "keep out of the bee business." In fact, the person who can see nothing but the money there is in any venture will have a hard time passing through the world. I remember hiring a man to work for me when I was on the old farm, before I commenced to keep bees, who was continually looking at the sun to see how soon it would be quitting time for the day; and the later he worked the more he would lean on his hoe, and the more tired he would become, all the time proclaiming that he did not believe there was any money in a corn crop. This man wanted big wages, and was not working for any thing but just his wages. Today he has little if any more than he had fifty years ago.

Another time I hired a man by the month, and this man could see fun in every thing I set him at. He was up early in the morning, and would whistle and sing while he turned off one job after another. He would hoe one row after another of corn, telling me at noon or night how nice it grew, and what a nice green color the leaves were taking on, surprising me by the eagerness he manifested in doing a good job, and keeping ahead of the work we had to do. We had a long job of laying over an old rail fence which we used as "knitting" work when nothing else was pressing. At noon, on the last day before his time was out, it commenced to rain slowly, making every thing outside wet and disagreeable. After dinner he asked me what he was to go at for his last half day with me. I told him to sit down and read a while, and when he felt like it to pack up his things, and later on I would carry him home. He said, "There is that old rail fence we did not finish. I'll go at that." I told him that, of all the worst things that could be done on a rainy day,

the laying-over of an old rail fence was the worst, and that he was to do only as I had told him. After a little I missed him; and on going to the door overlooking the old fence, there he was with on old coat on laying over the fence, whistling and singing away in the rain. He came in half an hour before it was time for me to take him home, saying that I would not have to lay over any more old fence, for it was all finished. This man has to-day a fine place all paid for, with money in the bank, and has held many offices of public trust in the community in which he located.

Now a word or two about the money there is in beekeeping. No man can ever become a Rockefeller or a Morgan through beekeeping; but he can make a comfortable living for himself and his family, secure a good home in which to live, and lay aside something to carry him through his old age so that he need not worry about "over the hills to the poorhouse." But this is only a small part of apiculture (big fortunes made in any business tend to make a man sordid and morose, taking all the pleasure and poetry out of life. He can see only business all the day, and dream of it at night). Besides a comfortable living, a good home, and something laid aside for old age, there is in apiculture something which money cannot buy. The merry hum of the bees cheers the heart, the green fields and leafy boughs make the eyes shine with brightness; the song of the bobolink, robin, and oriole brings music to the soul, while the growing combs of honey sparkling in the sections, or being capped with snowy whiteness, whet the appetite with the keenest relish.

Say, Mr. Correspondent, I would not exchange all these pleasures which have come to me through my apicultural life since March 1, 1869, for the fortune of a Morgan or a Rockefeller. The beekeeper who has first sought the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness has a right to be the happiest man or woman on earth; and if he is not thus happy it is because he does not reach out his hands and take what is offered by his heavenly Father. In my opinion no rural pursuit is the equal of apiculture for pleasure and independence; and it compares favorably with the rest for profit if it is rightly managed. In no year have I ever failed to realize a good profit on the labor and capital invested. But to give just the figures seems too cold and calculating when I look at the pleasure side.

The second paper on this subject dealt with the proper wiring of the frames, giving a method which produces square frames and tight wires free from stretch under service conditions. They are ready for the foundation, and we must decide what grade to use.

I use the lightest "brood" foundation I can buy. With the paper, a pound contains eleven to twelve sheets 7% by 1634 inches. Any thing smaller than this is used at a loss. The frames I use have an inch-thick top-bar without grooves, 3/8 inch thick endbars, and 1/4-inch-thick bottom-bar, and the above-dimensioned sheets are just right for them. I should prefer sheets a scant s inch longer, if I could be sure of accurate cutting; but as I cannot, I use those of dimensions given.

I have gotten over bewailing small variations in dimensions; but I insist on having sheets with straight edges, and cut square. Once you run up against a lot that are not right in those particulars, and you will appreciate my attitude. It is almost unusable; and, even if used, will take so much time and give such unsatisfactory results that you will never accept another lot like it.

As to the weight, I use the extremely light for economy. In 100-pound lots I get it at an average price of 60 cents per pound, which is about five cents a sheet, which for the 92 sheets I use in a hive costs 472 cents. "Medium brood" foundation costs in same quantities about 56 cents for 74 sheets, or 8 cents a sheet, which, for 912 sheets is 76 cents. Light brood costs 62 cents a sheet, or 58 cents a hive. It is not difficult to see that the highest-priced foundation is the cheapest, provided you know how to use it.

I frankly confess that it takes more skill or deftness to work with the extra light than with the others; but as soon as the skill is acquired it works as easily as the others, and the economy is worth all the trouble of acquiring the skill.

For a time I was inclined to want my foundation without paper between the sheets, also for economy, because there are several pounds of paper in a few hundred pounds of foundation; but I soon discoverd that the paper was worth all it cost me. (As I recall it now, it adds about one cent a pound to the cost of the foundation.)

The implements I use are few and simple, and can be bought in any village for a very small sum. The only exception is the board on which to lay the foundation and frame while fastening, etc., and that is easily made. It is in length almost the inside length of the frame just enough shorter to permit the frame to slip on and off easily. In width it is about one-eighth inch narrower than the inside depth of the frame, and in one edge are driven two brass-headed upholstery nails (these taper, and the frame will not catch on them), so that, when a frame is put on the board, the heads of these nails just rub against the frame. The top-bar is always put against this edge. This board is fastened to two cleats, and when in use it is screwed or clamped firmly to bench or table. This is not necessary, but will be found to facilitate the work. Preferably the bottombar is toward the operator, and light should be at one side or come over and behind the operator's head. I like to have the board slope toward the top-bar edge, and do this by wedging up the edge nearest me about one inch.

The other implements, two dishes for wax and the tools shown in view No. 1, consist of a small soldering-iron and two brushes. The soldering-iron is for bedding the wires, and is filed down quite thin at the end one way, and into an are the other way. Over the edge of this arc is filed a groove just deep enough so it will run on a wire and not slip off, and no deeper. Then it is tinned, because the hot wax turns the copper green, and I do not care for the green copper on my foundation and in my combs. It may be so slight as to be harmless; but as I can avoid it I do. Such an "iron " can be purchased for about 25 cents.

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The large brush is for "painting" the foundation with wax, and the small one is for fastening the foundation to the frame. It costs 10 cents, and is as far superior to the "wax-tube" and wax-spoon as a movable-comb hive is to a log gum." I tried all shapes and sizes, and all lengths of bristles, and find the one illustrated the best. It is a common marking-brush, such as is used for marking boxes, barrels, etc.

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The dishes for the wax are preferably "double-boilers," the cheap sort obtainable at any five and ten cent store. Any dish

will do; but the double boilers are best and safest.

Across the middle of the wax-dish wedge a stick (piece of a bottom-bar) to wipe the brush on. It is better than wiping across the edge of the dish, as no wax runs down the outside.

If single instead of double dishes are used, great care must be taken not to burn the brushes. Put a piece of wire cloth in the bottom of each wax-dish. A square piece with the corners folded under will hold the brushes from the pan bottom. Also, always remove the brushes from the wax before it cools. If you do not at the start, you will later.

Into one dish is put pure wax. This is for the large brush. Into the other is put three parts wax and one part rosin. This is for the small brush, and is used to attach the foundation to the frame.

The outfit is placed as follows: On the bench directly in front of me is the board with a two-burner gas "flat" or heater (an oil-stove with two burners will do as well). Over each of the burners is a dish of wax. A lower temperature is needed for the rosinwax than for the other. The soldering-iron is placed so that it projects over part of one of the flames. The foundation is piled on the bench convenient to one hand, and frames are convenient to the other. On the floor close at hand are a few hive-bodies to hang the filled frames in.

A sheet of foundation, together with the sheet of paper under it, is laid on the board, paper side down. The wired frame is laid over all; the foundation is pushed close against the top-bar and one end-bar. And right here you will learn the value of square frames and square foundation. Then the small brush with rosin-wax is drawn along the top-bar and foundation, and down each end-bar. Then the "iron" is drawn along the wires, bedding and securely fastening them. Then the large brush is wiped across the stick in the dish to remove any excess of wax, and the foundation painted with it.

The frame is now turned over, the paper peeled off, that surface of the foundation painted, and the rosin-wax drawn along the top-bar and down the end-bars-all very simple and very rapid. I can pick up the frame and foundation, fasten it with rosinwax on both sides (but not "paint" surface), bed the wires, and remove it from the board in thirty seconds. Try that sturt with the groove-and-wedge plan and spur imbedder, and see where you come out.

But if you try this system without some knowledge of the principles involved, you will have much labor and trouble before you

succeed. Every part of the work is modified by some other part or condition. If the room is cool you can work more rapidly than if it is warm, and at the same time you need a warmer iron and warmer wax. The thinner the foundation, the more careful you must be about the heat of iron and wax, and also of "touch" and speed. All of which suggests a difficult and troublesome process, but such is not the case. Once you have learned the temperature at which the wax and iron work best at the ordinary temperature of the room, you have only to raise or lower it slightly to meet changes in that factor.

If the rosin-wax is too hot, it will melt the edge of the foundation and run down through. It would stick the frame, foundation, and board together were it not for the space made by the two brass-headed upholstery nails referred to earlier. A little wax will flow to the under surface of the foundation any way, so the space is essential. If the rosin-wax is too cool it does not flow from the brush readily, does not fasten the foundation easily, and calls for too many strokes of the brush. Also, it does not spread on the frame in a thin nice stripe as it should.

The rosin-wax will fasten the foundation securely, while plain wax will not; and, furthermore, and most important, the bees can no more resist the attraction of those rosin-wax stripes than the small boy can resist the lure of the proverbial jam-pot. No sooner do the bees begin to gather on the frame and foundation than they begin to draw out the walls of the cells next to the wood, and the result is a joy to the beekeeper.

In "painting" the foundation if the wax is too hot it softens the walls, does not leave enough without a second stroke of the brush, and a second stroke on the softened foundation makes a mess-that is to say, it flattens it to almost a smooth sheet, resulting later in drone-cells in spots. If the wax is too cold the brush drags, a needless amount of wax is used, and the foundation is not properly re-enforced. The ideal coating gives a thickened rim to most of the cells, much as the bees keep them when building natural comb. This very materially strengthens the foundation and lessens stretching. I often illustrate the condition by likening it to putting a rigid cast-iron coating on a tough wrought-iron base. Never mind if some cells get a thin cover or capping of wax; or if the wax fills a few cells you may trust the bees to fix every thing as it should be. A very heavy coating of wax may be applied, and the bees will use it all, but there is no

advantage in more than enough to stiffen the foundation. The amount of wax in the brush, the weight of the strokes, and the times over, depend on the size (thickness and length) of the brush and temperature of the wax. Nothing but practice can show you this, but it is worth all the effort necessary to learn.

This process was invented by a Mr. Henry Vogeler, and patented in 1900. In 1912 the Review secured and published permission to its subscribers to use the process. I consider Mr. Vogeler's invention almost as valuable as the invention of foundation itself.

The use of the iron for bedding and fastening the wires is simple. Only three factors are involved-heat of the iron, pressure on the wire, and swiftness with which it is drawn. If it is too hot, it will melt holes or even long slots in the foundation. If too

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cold it does not "bed" the wire nor properly cement the foundation to it. The warmer it is, the faster it can or must be drawn along the wire; and the cooler it is, the slower it must go. Too much pressure will cut the wire through. The painting will usually remedy this, but it is a poor craftsman does such work. If one's hand is not steady, just place the point-of the iron against the end-bar of the frame, just above the wire, and slide it down on to the wire- a proceeding which sounds slow, but is not. It is rather important to draw the iron straight, otherwise it may jump the wire and make a hole in the foundation. If it does you will see plainly why I have the paper between the foundation and the

board. You can peel the paper from the foundation, but if it were not there the foundation would be fastened unpleasantly tight to the board. The paper is one of the little items that make for speed and comfort.

It may be contended that the hot iron will stretch the wire. Well, perhaps it does for all I know; but you have only to look at my frames of foundation and my combs, and take note of the time it takes me to do the work, to satisfy yourself of the value of the process. And I secured these results without the painting process but with heavier foundation.

I have been asked the total cost of a completed comb in material and my time. Here it is as nearly as I can figure it. Frame, 32 cents; foundation, 5 cents; wax, 1/2 cent (high); labor, wire, etc., 5 cents. Total, 14 cents. Omitting labor, which is variable in

value, can you produce any such combs by any other process, for a cash outlay of 9 cents each? But cash is not the only item, for speed, pleasure, and results are there also.

Getting the foundation built into combs is usually a matter of chance, but it should not be. It is very easy to lose much of the advantage gained by the methods which I have been describing by giving the frames of foundation to unsuitable colonies or at unfavorable times. Veteran beekeepers usually know that the best results are secured by giving one sheet at a time to strong colonies during a good flow, placing it in the middle of the brood-nest, and the novice

should follow that method, or, if deviating from it, should be sure that the bees are doing good field work or are being well fed. Personally, I prefer to have my foundation drawn out in upper stories over full colonies, and I know of no better time than when the bees are busy on honey-dew. The combs produced then are filled more or less with it; and later, when the combs are put into the brood-nest, it is turned into bees.

The subject is a large one, and really deserves full treatment; but the best conditions for the work may be summarized in these words: Give the foundation to strong colonies in prosperous times. Providence, R. I.

I have been carrying on an experiment the past season with raising bees in dronecells. I noticed that you did something along this line some years ago, and found that the bees contract the cells. I found that was true as to the bees that were first placed on the drone comb, but was not true of the generation that was raised in the drone comb. These bees are much larger than my other workers-in fact, they are so large that novices remark their large size. Dr. Miller's contention with me was that I might as well claim that large boots make large feet. Well, Mr. Root, won't they do that same thing? These bees will not be allowed any thing but comb four cells to the inch this coming season. I had them raise their own queen from the drone-cells, and they know no other size of comb; hence they do not contract it. I am carrying these experiments on in the observation hive, and can report correctly on each day's work. Their tongues are longer than my other bees, and I think they will go over 18-100 of an inch. I will make a further report at the end of next season's work.

Seattle, Wash.

[Dr. Miller has had special opportunities of being informed in regard to breeding larger bees, and we asked him to reply, therefore, to the foregoing. His reply follows.-ED.]

At some time in his career it is likely to occur to the ambitious beekeeper that it would be a fine thing to have bees of larger size than usual, and that the nearest way to reach such a thing would be by having them

reared in larger cells. That might be confidently expected if the young workers were. at all cramped in worker-cells of the usual size. But are they? Is it not likely that in the economy of the hive, where every thing is so nicely adjusted to its desired end, the cell is exactly adapted to the size of the bee -not an iota too large, not an iota too small?

Actual trial, however, is better than trying to reason it out. At one time I put a colony of bees upon a set of drone-combs. Instead of going promptly to work to rear bees of enlarged size, they just decently swarmed out. None of that sort of combs for them! If drone-comb in smaller quantity be given, it is likely to be used either for storing honey or for rearing drones, but not always. Workers reared in drone-cells are much more common than is generally supposed. I venture to say that it would be a difficult thing for you to find an apiary of 50 colonies or more in which you could not find drone-cells in which workers had been reared. Let an old queen have an inordinate quantity of drone-comb, and an inordinate quantity of drones will be reared. But let a vigorous young queen succeed to the throne, and any drone-comb that happens within the brood-nest is likely to be filled with worker-brood. Drone-comb that has been so used is easily recognized. The mouth of each cell is narrowed to the size of a worker-cell, giving it the appearance of being partly sealed over.

But workers from such cells (and I have watched them as they emerged) are not perceptibly larger than common. If they were, it ought to be a common thing in any apiary