An Extractor to be Given Away.

Mr. A. G. Hill has sent us one of his GasPipe Extractors to be presented to the person sending in the largest club of new subscribers to THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL before November 1, 1876. The Extractor is light and extremely simple. We will pay the express charges, so that it shall be "without charge" to the recipient.

We will add the following:

For the second largest list, we will give a tested Italian queen in May, 1877.

For the third largest list, we will give a copy of THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL for 1877, post-paid.

For the fourth largest list we will send, post-paid, a copy of Vol. I. of THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL, bound.

See our club rates on page 246 of this issue. Names and money can be sent in as received, mentioning that you wish to compete for the prizes, and we will open an account accordingly. Work should be commenced at once.

Give Plenty of Room and Honey.

In most localities the season has been one which has yielded an unusual harvest of honey, and many hives which have been left to take care of themselves will be in bad condition for winter by reason of their plentiful stores. Especially where the flow of honey has continued up to the first of September, no time should be lost in examining every hive to see that room enough is left for the occupancy of brood. If every frame is filled with honey, except a shallow depth at the bottom of part of them, the colony will scarcely survive the winter. If any colonies need to be fed no better use can be made of some of the frames of honey in the over-full colonies than to give them to those which have not sufficient stores for winter, returning empty combs in place of the full ones. If this cannot be done then extract the honey from one or more of the combs and have plenty of empty worker cells in the middle of the brood nest. not, however, go to the other extreme, and extract most of their honey, thinking there will be time enough for them to fill up, and if not they can be fed. There is nothing lost by leaving a liberal allowance of honey, and at this season of the year there should be at all times enough honey left in the hives so that if a sharp frost comes and suddenly cuts off the harvest, there will be no necessity to feed for winter. If the yield should continue so as to fill up the hives again, it will be easy to extract again. We are aware that this advice will be lost upon some of the very ones who need it. Having

Do

little experience and thinking because honey is still being gathered there is no need yet to think about winter, they will be so anxious for a larger yield of honey that they will plan to leave just as little as possible in the hives, and perhaps feed too late, or have colonies so weak in stores in the spring that they will build up very slowly. We do not pretend to have fully solved the problem of wintering and springing bees, but are strongly of the opinion that one important factor in the problem is to have plenty of stores and at the same time have plenty of room for the queen to lay. If more honey is left in the hive than will be used in wintering it will not be wasted, and in the spring the bees will increase their numbers more rapidly if they feel that they have plenty. Better extract the overplus at the beginning of the harvest than to try to leave just as little as will carry the bees through.

Novice inquires, in August number of Gleanings, if the AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL or any one else knew that McAllister & Co., of Chicago, were of the fraudulent sort why they did not say so? Now look here, Novice, you may wish you hadn't put that chip on your shoulder. THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL tries to be a little careful not to speak too hastily on subjects of which it is not fully informed. Some eighteen months ago the advertisement of J. K. McAllister & Co. was refused by the publisher of the AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL because he was not furnished with satisfactory references, but this lack of information did not warrant publishing the firm as a fraud. Has there been more than one case of unfair dealing reported of them?

Not long ago we ordered a small package of comb foundation, and after putting it into the hives it stretched down in such a way that each particular cell seemed to be making faces at us. Should we not immediately have warned the public that the party was a fraud, sending out what was worse than worthless? Had we done so, hastily, we might have regretted it, for very shortly afterward he gave notice that he had discovered that the material did not work right, and he stood ready to make good all damages. So it is best to go slow and sure in such matters.

The firm of King & Slocum, publishers of the Bee-Keepers' Magazine, of New York, has been dissolved. Mr. Slocum retiring and Mr. Turner taking his place, under the firm name of A. J. King & Co. The new firm has our best wishes for success.

Comb Building.

Huber thus describes the process of comb building. He speaks of two kinds of workers-"wax-makers" and "nurses." This is an error. There is but one kind of bees. Young bees are the "nurses" and "comb builders," while the older bees gather the honey. He says:

The wax makers, having taken a due portion of honey or sugar, from either of which wax can be elaborated, suspend themselves to each other, the claws of the fore-legs of the lowermost being attached to those of the hind pair of the uppermost, and form themselves into a cluster, the exterior layer of which looks like a kind of curtain. This cluster consists of a series of festoons or garlands, which cross each other in all directions, and in which most of the bees turn their back upon the observer; the curtain has no other motion than what it receives from the interior layers, the fluctuations of which are communicated to it. All this time the nurse bees preserve their wonted activity and pursue their usual employments. The wax makers remain immovable for about 24 hours, during which period the formation of wax takes place; and thin laminæ of this material may be generally perceived under their abdomen. One of these bees is now seen to detatch itself from one of the central garlands of the cluster, to make a way amongst its companions to the middle of the vault or top of the hive, and by turning itself round to form a kind of void, in which it can move itself freely. It then suspends itself to the centre of the space which it has cleared, the diameter of which is about an inch; it next seizes one of the lamina of wax with a pincer formed by the posterior metatarsus and tibia, and drawing it from beneath the abdominal segment, one of the anterior legs takes it with its claws and carries it to the mouth. This leg holds the lamina with its claws vertically, the tongue rolled up serving for a support, and by elevating or depressing it at will, causes the whole of its circumference to be exposed to the action of the mandibles, so that the margin is soon gnawed into pieces, which drop as they are detatched into the double cavity, bordered with hairs, of the mandibles. These fragments, pressed by others newly separated, fall on one side of the mouth and issue from it in the form of a very narrow ribånd.

They are then presented to the tongue, which impregnates them with a frothy liquor like a bouilli. During this operation the tongue assumes all sorts of forms: sometimes it is flattened like a spatula, then like a trowel, which applies itselt to the riband of wax; at other times it resembles a pencil terminating in a point. After having moistened the whole of the riband, the tongue pushes it so as to make it re-enter the mandibles, but in an opposite direction, where it is worked up anew. The liquor mixed with the wax communicates to it a whiteness and opacity which it had not be fore; and the object of this mixture of bouilli, which did not escape the observation of Reaumur, is, doubtless, to give it that ductility and tenacity which it possesses in its perfect state.

The foundress bee, the name which this first beginner of a comb deserves, next ap

plies these prepared parcels of wax against the vault of the hive, disposing them with the point of her mandibles in the direction which she wishes them to take; and she continues these manoeuvres until she has employed the whole lamina that she had separated from her body when she takes a second proceeding in the same manner. She gives herself no care to compress the molecules of wax which she has heaped together; she is satisfied if they adhere to each other. At length she leaves her work and is lost in the crowd of her companions. Another succeeds and resumes the employment; then a third; all follow the same plan of placing their little masses; and if any, by chance, gives them a contrary direction, another coming removes them to their proper place. The result of all these operations is a mass or little wall of wax, with uneven surfaces, five or six lines long, two lines high, and half a line thick, which descends perpendicularly below the vault of the hive. In this first work is no angle nor any trace of the figure of the cells. It is a simple partition in a right line without any inflection.

The wax makers having thus laid a foundation of a comb, are succeeded by the nurse bees, which are alone competent to model and perfect the work.

The former are the laborers, who convey the stone and mortar; the latter, the masons, who work them up into the form which the intended structure requires. One of the nurse bees now places itself horizontally on the vault of the hive, its head corresponding to the centre of the mass or wall which the wax makers have left, and which is to form the partition of the comb into two opposite assemblages of cells; and, with its mandibles rapidly moving its head, it moulds in that side of the wall, a cavity which is to form the base of one of the cells to the diameter of which it is equal. When it has worked some minutes it departs, and another takes it place, deepening the cavity, heightening its lateral margins by heaping up the wax to right and left by means of its teeth and forefeet, and giving them a more upright form; more than twenty bees successively employ themselves in this work. When arrived at a certain point, other bees begin on the yet untouched and opposite side of the mass, and, commencing the bottom of two cells, are in turn relieved by others. While still engaged in this labor, the wax makers return, and add to the mass, augmenting its extent in every way, the nurse bees again continuing their operations. After having worked the bottom of the cells of the first row into their proper forms, they polish them, and give them their finish, while others begin the outline of a new series.

The cells themselves, or prisms, which result from the reunion and ineeting of the sides, are next constructed. These are engrafted on the borders of the cavities hollowed in the mass; the bees begin them by making the contour of the bottoms, which at first is unequal, of equal height; thus all the margins of the cells offer an uniformly level surface from their first origin, and until they have acquired their proper length. The sides are heightened in an order analogous to that which the insects follow in finishing the bottoms of the cells; and the length of these tubes is so perfectly proportioned that there is no observable inequality

between them. It is to be remarked that though the general form of the cells is hexagonal, that of those first begun is pentagonal, the side next the top of the hive, and by which the comb is attached, being much broader than the rest, whence the comb is more strongly united to the hive, than if these cells were of the ordinary shape. It, of course, follows that the base of these cells, instead of being formed like those of the hexagonal cells, of three rhomboids, consist of one rhomboid and two trapeziums.

The form of a new comb is lenticular, its thickness always diminishing towards the edges. This gradation is constantly observable, whilst it keeps enlarging in circumference; but as soon as the bees get sufficient space to lengthen it, it begins to lose this form and to assume parallel surfaces; it has then received the shape which it will always preserve.

The bees appear to give the proper forms to the bottoms of the cells, by means of their antennæ, which extraordinary organs they seem to employ as directors, by which their other instruments are instructed to execute a very complete work. They do not remove a single particle of wax until the antennæ have explored the surface that is to be sculptured. By the use of these organs, which are so flexible and so readily applied to all parts, however delicate, that they can perform the functions of compasses in measuring very minute objects, they can work in the dark, and raise these wonderful combs, the first production of insects.

Every part of the work appears a natural consequence of that which precedes it, so that chance has no share in the admirable results witnessed. The bees cannot depart from their prescribed route, except in consequence of particular circumstances, which alter the basis of their labor. The original mass of wax is never augmented, but by an uniform quantity; and what is most astonishing, this augmentation is made by the wax makers, who are the depositories of the primary matter, and possess not the art of sculpturing the cells.

The bees never begin two masses for combs at the same time; but scarcely are some rows of cells constructed in the first, when two other masses, one of each side of it, are established at equal distances from it, and parallel to it, and then again two more exterior to these. The combs are always enlarged and lengthened in a progression, proportioned to the priority of their origin, the middle comb being constantly advanced beyond the two adjoining ones by some rows of cells, and they beyond those that are exterior to them. Was it permitted to these insects to lay the foundation of all their combs at the same time, they could not be placed conveniently or parallel to each other. So with respect to the cells, the first cavity determines the place of all that succeed it.

A large number of bees work at the same time on the same comb; but they are not moved to it by a simultaneous, but by a successive impulse. A single bee begins every partial operation, and many others in succession add their efforts to hers, each appearing to act individually in a direction impressed either by the workers who have preceded it, or by the condition in which it finds the work. The whole population of

wax workers is in a state of the most complete inaction, till one bee goes forth to lay the foundations of the first comb. Immediately others second her intentions, adding to the height and length of the mass; and when they cease to act, a bee, if the term may be used, of another profession, one of the nurse bees, goes to form the draft of the first cell in which she is succeeded by others.

"So work the honey bees,

Creatures that by a rule in Nature, teach
The art of order to a peopled kingdom."
-SHAKESPEARE.

From the English Manual of Bee-Keeping.

Effects of Stings.

Mr. G. Walker, of Wimbledon, has recorded an experiment he made on himself to try how long, and how many stings, it would require to get inoculated. He gives the following as the modus operandi and result, viz:

I went to one of my hives, caught a bee, placed it on my wrist, and allowed it to sting me, taking care that I received the from going away at once; then I let the largest amount of poison by preventing it poison-bag work, which it does for some time after being separated from the bee. The first day I only stung myself twice. A bee sting has always had a very bad and injurious effect on me, inasmuch as it has always caused a great amount of swelling and pain; in fact, once when stung on my ear, the part became so painful and swollen that I hardly got any sleep the tollowing night, and it was three days before I recovered. The first few stings I got during this experiment had the usual effect; the whole of iny fore-arm was affected with a cutaneous erysipelas, and there was disorder of the muscular nerves, accompanied with heat, redness, swelling and pain. This attack lasted till Tuesday, and on Wednesday (October 7th) I was so far recovered that, following the same plan, I stung myself three times more also on the wrist. The attack of erysipelas this time was not nearly so severe; but, as before, I felt a stinging sensation as far up as my shoulder, and I noticed that a lymphatic gland behind my ear had increased considerably in size, the poison being taken up by the lymphatic system. On Saturday (October 10th) I again treated myself to three stings, and the pain was considerably less, though the swelling was still extensive. At the end of the next week (October 17th) I had had eighteen stings; then I stung myself seven times more during the next week, and I reached the number of thirty-two on October 31st; the course of the experiment having lasted nearly four weeks. After the twentieth sting there was very little swelling or pain, only a slight itching sensation, with a small amount of inflamation in the immediate neighborhood of the part stung, which did not spread further; and I stung myself on November 8th, without its having any effect

on me.

SEND NAMES.-Our triends will greatly oblige us by sending the names of such of their neighbors as keep bees and do not take THE AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL, and we will send them a sample copy.

Correspondence.

For the American Bee Journal,

Queens' Friends and Foes.

I have practiced introducing queens by merely waiting till queen cells were started, and then placing the queen on the comb amongst the bees, without using any precautionary measures whatever, and have never failed when honey was yielding, but have often noticed that in front of such a hive shortly afterward, a number of dead bees would be found on the ground. For a long time it puzzled me to know what this meant, but I finally came to the conclusion that the bees had a battle amongst themselves, one party attacking the newly introduced queen, and the other party defending her, and that the dead bees in front of the hives were slain in such battles.

About the middle of last July in extracting the honey from a two-story hive, I found the queen in the upper story with brood scattered through both stories. In order to be sure to put the queen where I wanted her to be, after I was through overhauling both stories, I put her in a tumbler turned upside down over a sauce dish. After finishing my work with the hive, I placed the queen on top of the frames and she was immediately attacked. I took out the ball of bees which enclosed her, and as I did so a small cluster dropped off the main ball, and this small cluster remained clinched evidently battling one another. I then dropped the ball containing the queen in a tumbler of water, but instead of separating they remained in a firm ball. After they had become motionless from drowning, I took them out and easily separated the queen, which I placed on top of a hive cover in the shade, to dry off and revive. On the top of the frames where I I had placed the found two bees which had just killed at the spot where the queen was. I then closed up the hive and looking at the tumbler and sauce dish which had contained the queen, I noticed that the dish was soiled by bees which had been previously in it, (for I had been using it all day to hold different queens) and undoubtedly the strange and unpleasant odor given to the queen, by being in the soiled dish was the cause of the bees attacking her. After the queen had revived, I daubed her with honey and placed her on the porch, where she was caressed by the bees which first met her, and very soon quite a crowd collected about her. Gradually the appearance of the bees assumed that doubtful aspect, in which you scarcely know whether they are foes or friends to the queen. Very soon the queen was enveloped by a large mass of bees. She was a choice queen and I was very anxious for her safety, but it was growing late in the evening and I was to leave the next morning, so I decided to let the bees take their own course. I visited the hive the last thing before going to bed, but found no change in the situation. I put a quilt in front of the hive so that I might find the dead queen thereon if she was killed. I went to the hive the first thing in the morning and found the cluster shifted from the porch to the side of the hive, smaller in

size and less compact. Whilst I was watching them, the queen emerged from the cluster, and quietly walked into the hive. On the quilt were the slain bodies of some thirty workers. On visiting them two weeks later I found the queen doing faithful duty, as if nothing had happened.

Very clearly here were two different parties; and I do not remember ever to have seen this matter mentioned by any one except Mr. Chas. Dadant. Can the knowledge be turned to any practical account? B. LUNDERER.

For the American Bee Journal.

Bees Stinging to Death:

While the Prussian army at Sadowa was fighting the Austrian forces, one of their batteries took position in a walled garden. In this garden, behind the guns, were a few stands of bees. The walls of the garden had been bored to make battlements, so that the gunners protected against the fire of the enemy could point their guns from behind the shelter of the high stone walls. Suddenly a bombshell fell in the garden, not far from the bees and bursting struck the hives. The bees became angry and rushed on the gunners and horses. Men and horses were literally covered with stinging bees. The guns were deserted and in spite of the haste of the retreat, several horses were killed, two men could not recover, and many others were several weeks before regaining their health.

The Franco-Prussian war had also a few episodes in which bees have played their part. At the battle of Beaumont, in the village of Warniforet, a farmer had about 60 bee hives. When the Prussians invaded the village, some soldiers, elated by their success, had the unhappy idea of feasting with honey. They had routed the proud French army, could a few small insects resist their attacks? With their sabres they loosened hastily the caps of most of the hives to rob their contents. The bees astonished at such an affront remained quiet a few instants, then rushing en masse they made a vigorous attack on their assailants. Four Prussian soldiers were killed instantly, four more did not recover, and several others remained for months in the ambulance before being able to resume service again.

Dr. Schweinfurt, in relation of his expedition across Central Africa, narrates that, while he was ascending Bahr-el-Abiadone of the forks of the upper Nile-the wind being contrary his boat could not use its sails. Some men were sent on shore to tow it with a rope. This rope while dragged on the ground hit and disturbed a bee hive. The revenge of these insects was not long delayed. A full swarm fell on the towers, who hastened to jump into the river to repair to the boat by swimming. The bees followed them to the boat and in their fury attacked all the crew, even the botanist who was in his cabin quietly occupied in fixing plants in his herbarium. There was a general rush out. The Doctor himself jumped into the river to escape the fury of the insects. Little by little the bees returned to their hive and quietness was restored. When the battle was over it was found that two men had been stung to death, and there were as many wounded as