THERMOMETER.

As I have been frequently asked to explain the utility of ventilation in a hive or colony of Bees, so have I as frequently been asked, sometimes with civility and politeness, sometimes jeeringly and in contempt,—"What has the thermometer to do with Bees?" I answer—We shall see presently; and I trust, see enough to convince the veriest sceptic on the subject, that the thermometer is an instrument that is indispensably necessary in the management of Bees according to my plan. Such inquirers might as reasonably ask what the mainspring of a watch has to do with the movements of that machine? Without the mainspring the watch would not work at all; and without the thermometer we cannot ascertain with any degree of accuracy the interior temperature of the hive; the knowledge of which temperature is of the utmost consequence in the humane management of Honey-Bees. The thermometer is the safest, if not the sole guide to a scientific knowledge of their state and works. To ventilate an apiary or colony of Bees, when their interior temperature is under 60 degrees, would be ruinous to them,—because contrary to the prosperous progress of their natural labours. From upwards of fifteen hundred observations in the summer of 1825, I am fully satisfied on this point. Their nature is to keep up at least that, and sometimes a much higher, degree of temperature by their indefatigable labours; and as the temperature of the hive rises, so does it invigorate and encourage an increase of population, as well as an increase of their treasured sweets. As the hive fills, so will the thermometer rise to 120 and even to 130 degrees, before these worthies will by over-heat be forced to leave their wealthy home. When the thermometer is at the above height, these wealthy colonists will have arrived at the highest state of perfection,—wealthy indeed, every store-house being filled nearly to suffocation with their abundant treasures, and they, as it were, petitioning the observer of their too-limited store-house for a fresh room. Thus circumstanced then give them a fresh room,—accommodate them with such a store-house as either of my collateral-boxes will and is intended to afford them. Force them not to warm: an emigration from a prosperous colony of half its population cannot fail of being very disadvantageous, both to those that emigrate, who must necessarily be poor, and to those that remain, be they ever so industrious, or ever so wealthy.

When you discover your thermometer rising rapidly, and, instead of standing, as it generally does in a well-stocked colony, at about 80 degrees, rising in a few hours to 90, and perhaps to 96, or even to 100, you may conclude that ventilation is then highly necessary. The more you ventilate, when their temperature gets to this oppressive and dangerous height, the more you benefit the Bees labouring under it; for when they find a comfortable temperature within, they enjoy it, and will proceed to fill every vacant comb.

Nature has provided the Queen of Bees with the power of multiplying her species, and of providing against any casualty which in so numerous a state may frequently happen. That all-seeing eye that neither slumbers nor sleeps, but constantly superintends alike the affairs of insects and of men, has, doubtless, long beheld the shameful neglect of man, which is the main cause of the distress of the hive, and which forces it to swarm. Let man, then, remedy the distress and mischief which he occasions, by preventing it. It is the Queen-Bee that emigrates; were she not to lead, none would lead; nor would any follow were another than the Queen to lead, to seek and to settle in some place more congenial to them than an over-heated, over-stocked, though rich hive. She well knows she cannot live in a state subjected to a suffocating heat, amidst an overgrown population. So she leaves the royal cradle, impregnated with the royal larva, and withdraws from the hive, reluctantly, one may suppose, though accompanied by thousands of her subjects. The Queen-Bee leads the swarm to seek a place of comfort, and to establish another home, where not one cell nor drop of honey exists.

To establish the truth of these assertions, and to prove the utility of ventilation and of the thermometer, in regulating the degree of ventilation in the management of Bees, I will now give my reader an account of some interesting experiments that I made in 1826, and then add a few extracts from my thermometrical journal of that summer; which in fact guided me in those experiments, for without the assistance of my thermometer I could not have made them; from which, taken together, it will, I think, be sufficiently evident that ventilation and the thermometer are highly necessary,—are alike important,—in short, are indispensable in the humane management of Honey-bees.

On the 26th of June 1826, I suffered a colony of Bees to swarm, in order to prove the truth of the foregoing statements. It was a very fine colony: the thermometer had been standing at 110 for six days previously, in one of the collateral end-boxes; on the eighth day it rose suddenly to 120. I was then forcing my Bees to leave their home; I could have lowered their temperature, and by so doing, I could have retained my worthies in their native boxes: but I was then about to prove a fact of the greatest moment to apiarians. On the ninth day, at half-past twelve o'clock, the finest swarm I ever beheld towered above my head, and literally darkened the atmosphere in the front of my apiary. After remaining about five minutes in the open air, the Queen perched herself upon a tree in my garden, where she was exposed to the rays of a scorching sun; but her loyal subjects quickly surrounded her, and screened her from its influence. I immediately did what I could to assist my grand prize, by hanging a sheet before it, to ward off the intense heat of the sun. I allowed the Bees to hang in this situation until the evening. During the absence of the swarm from the colony, my full employment was to watch the parent-stock, in order that I might, in the evening, return the Bees of this beautiful swarm to their native-hive, which they had been forced to leave. Curiosity and a desire to solve a doubtful problem, for the good of future apiarians, led me to act as already related, at the expense of much inconvenience to the Bees. The remaining Honey-Bees continued labouring during the remainder of the day; and in the evening of that same day, the thermometer was standing at 90 degrees in the old stock; so that the absence of the swarm had lowered the temperature of the pavilion 30 degrees, and I was quite sure I could reduce it in the collateral end-box to that of the exterior atmosphere, which, after the sun had gone down, was only 65.

To effect this, I resolved at once to take off a fine top-glass filled with honey. I did so: its weight was fourteen pounds. This operation reduced the interior heat of the colony to 75. But looking at my grand swarm, and intent as I was upon re-uniting it to the parent-stock, I thought it impossible for the vacant space conveniently to hold all the Bees. I had one, and only one, alternative left,—and that was to take from my colony a collateral-box. I therefore took it; and a most beautiful box it was: its weight was fifty pounds. I immediately placed an empty box in the situation the full one had occupied. I then drew from the side of the pavilion the dividing tin-slide, and the whole of the colony was shortly at the desired temperature of 65, that being the exterior heat of the evening. I was now fully convinced of the propriety of returning the swarm. I commenced operations for accomplishing that object at ten o'clock in the evening, by constructing a temporary stage near the mouth of the parent-stock. I then procured a white sheet, and laid it upon the table or temporary stage, and in a moment struck the swarm from the hive into which the Bees had been taken from the bough in the evening. My next difficulty was to imprison the sovereign of the swarm: but with a little labour I succeeded in discovering her, and made her my captive. No sooner was she my prisoner than the Bees seemed to be acquainted with her absence. But so near were they placed to the mouth of the parent-stock that they soon caught the odour of the hive, and in the space of about fifteen minutes the whole swarm, save only her majesty, were under the roof of their parent-home. The following morning increased my anxiety about the welfare of my stock. Fearful lest my carious anticipations should meet with a disappointment, at sun-rise in the morning I released from her imprisonment the captive Queen. I placed her on the front-board, near the entrance of her hive, to ascertain, if possible, whether there was within the state one greater than herself. But no visible sign of such being the case presented itself. The influence of the cheery sun soon caused her to move her majestic body to the entrance of her native domicil, where she was met, surrounded, and no doubt welcomed, by thousands of her subjects, who soon conducted her into the hive, and, it may be presumed, re-instated her on the throne, which a few hours before she had been compelled to abdicate. The Bees afterwards sallied forthwith extraordinary alacrity and regularity, and, beyond my most sanguine expectations, filled a large glass with honey in the short space of six days. That glass of honey was exhibited at the National Repository, with a model of my apiary, and was much admired by many of the members and visitors of that noble institution.

I have now to remark, that during the nine days after the swarm had been returned to the parent-stock, the thermometer continued rising until it reached the temperature of 90 within the collateral-box; and on the tenth day, at five o'clock in the morning, I witnessed the grand secret,—I viewed with unutterable delight the extraordinary fact I had been endeavouring to ascertain,—viz.—two royal nymphs laid prostrate on the alighting-board, near the exterior entrance of the hive. This circumstance alone convinced me that no more swarming was necessary. I have further to notice, that on the third day afterwards the Bees commenced their destruction of the drones,—which was a satisfactory proof that I had gained my point. That colony has never swarmed since the period I thus first satisfactorily established the utility of ventilation. And on minutely attending to the extraordinary movements of this my favourite colony, it was not uncommon to notice the most infant appearance of the royal brood lying upon the front-board of the pavilion. So that I am well satisfied that the royal larva is always in existence in the hive, independently of the reigning Queen. Let me not be misunderstood; I do not mean by this expression to assert—that the royal larva exists in the hive without the instrumentality or agency of the reigning Queen;—far from it; for no common Bees can make a sovereign Bee without the egg from the royal body: what I do mean is—that the royal larva is always in existence in a colony of Bees, notwithstanding the existence and presence of a reigning Queen—that the Queen is there, and that the royal larva is there at the same time. In this the wisdom of Providence is manifest; for Nature has thus provided that the royal cradle should contain the royal brood, that in case any accident, misfortune, casualty, or necessity, should occasion the absence of the reigning Queen, another may be brought forth. This larva in reserve, as it were, is protected and reared by the inhabitants with the utmost care, nay, in the absence of the Queen, it is almost worshipped, until it becomes sufficiently matured to take the office and fulfil the duties of its royal predecessor; of course it then reigns supreme,—it is then Queen absolute. On this point I not only coincide in opinion with Thorley, but have seen enough in the course of my experience among Bees to confirm the truth of what I have now stated. As, however, the further discussion of this nice point belongs to the natural history of the Bee rather than to the explanation and inculcation of my practical mode of Bee-management, I refrain from saying more upon it, lest by so doing I should inadvertently excite criticism and controversy. I therefore proceed with my proper subject.

The following thermometrical observations are from the journal before mentioned. The first column gives the day of the month,—the second shows the hour of the day when the thermometer was examined,—and the third is its height at those several times in the colony of Bees upon which my experiments were so successfully made.

1826. April Hour Ther. 1 8 38 — 12 46 2 8 38 — 12 43 3 8 32 — 12 37 4 12 37 5 37 6 37 7 37 8 8 40 — 12 45 9 8 46 10 12 58 11 6 46 — 10 58 12 9 52 — 1 64 13 12 64 14 64 15 64 16 64 17 64 18 8 54 19 12 60 20 56 21 12 58 22 50 23 52 24 60 25 65 26 70 27 74 28 68 29 74 30 70

At this state of the Thermometer it is highly necessary to remove your Bees to their summer stand. A great decrease of wealth in the hive will appear daily under this temperature; and feeding should be resorted to until it rise to 50: and if moderate feeding be continued until the interior temperature reach 55, it will materially strengthen and invigorate your Bees. And as the thermometer continues to rise, you will find your hive improve. It will soon be in a good state for the spring. Considerable improvements in the combs, and immense gathering of farina, appear to occupy the Bees at this time. The enemies of Bees are numerous and active in this month. As much as possible guard against their attacks, and be careful to defend your Bees against them. At all times keep their floor-boards clean; and now withdraw the dead Bees, if there should appear to be any lying on the floor-boards or other stands. This will save the live Bees much labour, and may be done very easily.

May Hour Ther. 1 5 42 — 9 58 — 12 70 2 5 41 — 8 48 — 12 60 3 5 43 — 12 56 4 7 51 5 7 52 — 4 52 6 7 46 — 1 63 7 5 42 8 12 60 9 1 78 10 12 58 11 12 54 12 12 62 13 12 72 14 12 70 — 1 75 15 5 43 — 12 70 — 2 74 16 12 70

Swarming may be expected in this month if the hives be rich and the season favourable. To prevent which enlarge your hives, by adding three or four rounds, i. e. an eke, to the bottom of each of them. If you have the collateral-box hives, you need only draw up the tin-slides, or one of them, as occasion may require. By this means you enlarge the Bees' domicil, without admitting the atmospheric air. This move so pleases these indefatigable creatures, that you will behold at once the utility and humanity of this mode of management.

May Hour Ther. 17 12 68 18 8 58 19 8 50 — 12 70 20 8 58 — 12 60 21 8 54 — 12 62 — 2 58 22 8 54 — 12 62 — 2 58 23 7 50 — 12 62 — 2 70 24 7 50 — 12 68 — 2 72 25 5 60 — 8 62 — 11 64 — 12 70 — 3 71 26 7 58 — 10 74 — 1 80 — 4 73 27 6 61 — 10 74 — 12 84 — 2 82 — 4 80 — 5 70 28 6 60

Should the weather be seasonable, the boxes will now be filled rapidly, and the thermometer will rise quickly. At this period ventilation will demonstrate what has hitherto been a secret of nature;—viz. many young sovereigns in various states of perfection will be seen daily cast out of the hives: and the waxen cells will be extended to the remotest corners of their domicil. Riches are now rapidly accumulated: and the glasses filled with the purest sweets. Small glasses may be taken off from the inverted-hives, if the weather prove fine. Mem.—A glass of honey, weighing 12 lbs. and a collateral-box, weighing 42 lbs. taken. After taking the above treasure from the collateral-hive, and placing an empty glass and an empty box in the places of those taken off, the interior temperature was reduced to 60 degrees, while the atmosphere was 56 at twelve o'clock at night.

May Hour Ther. 28 12 68 — 2 68 — 3 70 — 8 61 29 5 60 — 10 64 — 1 76 — 7 66 — 9 64 30 6 60 — 8 64 — 9 74 — 12 78 31 6 61 — 12 74 — 2 78 — 4 76 June 1 7 62 — 12 76 2 6 62 — 12 78 — 5 76 3 6 60 — 12 76 — 5 74 4 6 60 — 12 74 — 3 78 5 6 54 — 12 68 6 6 58 — 12 66 — 3 62

The pure honey taken was about one-fourth of the weight of the hive, and it will be observed that the heat shows a decrease in the temperature of one fourth. June Hour Ther. 7 6 54 — 2 62 — 4 64 8 6 52 — 12 56 — 4 52 9 7 54 — 12 74 — 2 80 Mem.—A collateral-box of honey, weighing 56 lbs. and a glass on the 10th, weighing 14½ lbs. taken.

June Hour Ther. 10 6 60 — 12 74 — 3 72 11 6 60 — 12 70 — 3 76 — 4 78 — 9 70 12 6 64 — 12 74 — 2 82 13 6 60 — 10 82 — 12 90 14 6 64 — 12 84 — 2 88 — 4 86 15 7 66 — 10 70 — 3 88 — 6 80 17 12 70 — 3 88 — 9 68 18 6 66 — 12 70 — 2 76 19 6 60 — 12 70 — 5 66 20 8 60 — 12 70 — 3 76 21 7 60 — 12 70 — 3 72 22 9 70 — 12 70 — 3 65

Mem.—A collateral-box, weighing 60 lbs. and another, weighing 52 lbs. taken. June Hour Ther. 23 6 70 — 12 75 — 3 82 — 6 76 24 7 66 — 8 82 — 3 90 25 6 70 — 10 90 — 12 94 26 7 86 — 11 94 — 5 91 — 9 86 27 7 84 — 9 90 — 1 96 28 6 88 — 12 94 — 11 90 29 6 86 — 12 94 — 2 96 — 7 91 30 5 90 — 12 96 — 4 84

July Hour Ther. 1 6 94 — 12 96 — 4 94 — 7 94 2 6 94 — 12 96 — 6 94 — 10 94 3 6 94 — 12 96 — 6 94 — 10 90 4 6 92 — 12 94 — 6 90 5 6 90 — 12 92 — 6 90 7 6 90 — 12 92 — 6 92 — 10 92 8 7 92 — 12 92 — 6 90 — 11 90 9 6 88 — 12 92 — 3 82 — 10 80 10 6 78 — 12 80 — 6 82 11 6 80 — 12 84 — 6 86 — 10 90 12 6 86 — 12 80 — 6 76 — 10 74

If the pasturage for Bees begin to fail in your neighbourhood at this time, it is advisable, if it be practicable, to remove your colonies to a better and a more profitable situation. You will be richly rewarded for this attention to the prosperity of your apiary. July Hour Ther. 13 6 74 — 12 76 — 6 76 14 6 76 — 12 78 — 6 76 15 6 74 — 12 76 — 6 78 16 6 78 — 12 86 — 6 86 — 10 80 17 6 78 — 10 78 — 12 80 18 6 76 — 12 80 — 6 78 — 10 76 19 6 76 — 12 80 — 6 74 — 10 74 20 6 68 — 12 70 — 6 70 — 10 70 21 6 66 — 12 68 — 4 64

Summary of memorandums of the several deprivations or takings of honey from one set of boxes this season:

May	27. Glass and box	54		lbs.
June	9. Box	56		..
——	10. Glass	14	½	..
——	12. Box	60		..
——	13. Ditto	52		..
Collateral-box		60		..
		296	½	tlbs.

Did I deem it necessary, I could, from the letters of a variety of highly respectable correspondents, show that the mode of managing Bees in the way, and upon the principles, now explained, has been adopted, and has succeeded even beyond the most sanguine expectations of many of my worthy friends and patrons; but I will content myself at present with giving the two following letters, which I have just received from a gentleman in this neighbourhood, whose very name, to all who have any knowledge of or acquaintance with him, will be a sufficient guarantee that his statements are facts. Besides, his letters are a condensed, and I must say—clever epitome of my practical directions for the management of Bees in my boxes, and may be useful on that account; and moreover, I have, as will be seen presently, his unsolicited authority to make them public, and therefore run no risk of being called to order for so doing.

"Gedney-Hill, 13th July, 1832.

"Dear Sir,
"You will, I am persuaded, excuse me for troubling you with the information that I yesterday took off a fine glass of honey from one of my Bee-colonies. I went to work secundum artem, that is, in one word, scientifically, or in four words, according to your directions; and I have the satisfaction, nay more,—I have the pleasure to add that I succeeded—I had almost said completely, but I must qualify that expression by saying, that I succeeded all but completely; for one luckless Bee had the misfortune to be caught between the edges of the dividing-tin and the glass, and to be crushed to death in consequence. Excepting that accident, I believe that not one Bee was injured, nor lost. They left the glass, as soon as I gave them the opportunity of leaving it, in the most peaceable manner; in a subdued and plaintive tone they hummed round me,—settled upon me,—crept over me in all directions,—but not one of them stung me; in short, they returned to their home without manifesting the slightest symptoms of resentment, and in less than half an hour from the commencement of the operation, there was not a single Bee left in the glass. In my eye it is a very handsome glass of honey; it weighs exactly 13 lbs, and it has not one brood-cell in it. I intend to close it up,—to label it,—and to keep it, at least until I get another as handsome. It is a rich curiosity to exhibit to one's friends, especially to those who have never seen such a thing.

"On the other side, I send you a fortnight's register of the heights and variations of a thermometer, placed in the colony from which I have taken the glass, and also, of one placed in the shade, and apart from all Bees; from which register you will know, in a moment, whether I have managed my Bees properly. I am willing to flatter myself that I have, and that you will say I have been very attentive indeed.

1832. July Hour Ther. in the Colony Ther. in the Shade 1 11 86 66 .. 6 88 66 2 6 90 65 .. 1 92 66 .. 1 92 66 .. 9 86 65 3 8 88 65 .. 1 87 65 .. 3 89 65 .. 5 87 64 .. 9 88 64 4 4 88 64 .. 10 83 64 .. 12 86 65 .. 5 90 65 .. 9 86 64 5 7 89 64 .. 10 88 64 .. 1 90 65 .. 5 89 65

1832. July Hour Ther. in the Colony Ther. in the Shade 5 9 88 64 6 8 88 64 .. 2 88 65 .. 9 88 64 7 8 89 64 .. 9 88 64 8 9 86 64 .. 9 86 64 9 7 90 64 .. 2 89 65 .. 8 88 66 10 8 88 66 .. 2 89 66 11 9 88 66 .. 2 89 66 12 9 90 65 .. 1 94 66 .. 9 89 68 13 8 89 66 .. 5 90 66

"In addition to this I could, time and space permitting, tell you from what point the wind blew on each of these days, when it came full in front of my boxes, and when it came upon them in any other direction, when it was high, and when it was otherwise, on what days the Bees were able to get abroad, and also when they were kept at home by rain, or by any other cause. From these observations of the wind and weather, and particularly from the manner in which the wind is directed towards, or into the ventilators in the boxes, in conjunction with the movements of the Bees, I think I can account pretty satisfactorily for what may appear, at first sight, to be a little contradictory, viz. for the rising of the thermometer in the boxes sometimes when it was falling in the shade; and vice versa, for its sometimes rising in the shade when it was falling in the boxes. But instead of writing you a dissertation on these subjects, or on any of them, I choose rather to put you into possession of the whole of my Bee-practice, by submitting to your notice a copy, or as nearly as I can make it a copy, of a letter I took the liberty of addressing to the Editor of 'The Voice of Humanity,' in October last, after the appearance in No. V. of that publication, of a representation and imperfect explanation of your boxes. I was encouraged to write that letter by the following announcement in an article in that No.—'A due regard of rational humanity towards the Bee, though but an insect, we shall feel a pleasure in promoting in the future as well as the present pages of our publication. This subject has, moreover, a very strong claim, inasmuch as it also exemplifies the grand principle upon which The Voice of Humanity is founded—the true prevention of cruelty to animals, by substituting a practical, an improved system, in the place of one which is defective; this, in reference to the present subject, &c., is true prevention of cruelty, not only to units, but to thousands and tens of thousands of animals.' Notwithstanding this very rational announcement, and the prompt acknowledgment of the receipt of my letter, it did not appear in either of the next two numbers, nor am I aware that it is in the last, but I have not yet seen the last No. of that publication, therefore must not be positive. But this is not all: in No. 6, the conductors of that work express i sincere pleasure' in inserting an article which, they say, c forms an admirable addition to that on Mr. Nutt's Bee-hive;' and that 'the plan which it developes, in addition to its humanity, has the recommendation of being more simple and practicable than even the excellent improvements of Mr. Nutt.' Now what do you suppose this admirable addition to your Bee-hive,—-this plan recommended on account of its humanity, as well as on other accounts—is? It is no other than that most cruel and destructive one of depriving Bees of their honey and of every thing else, by 'driving them out of a full hive into an empty one, so early in the season as to afford the Bees sufficient time to provide themselves with another stock of winter food before the bad weather begins.' Very considerate this, certainly! but who can tell how soon the bad weather may begin? Of all the methods ever resorted to of getting their honey from Bees, this, in my humble opinion, is the most cruel and inhuman: suffocating the Bees and destroying them at once is far preferable to this (I had hoped) exploded mode of robbing them. If practised, it will, however, soon cure itself: but is it not a strange practice for 'The Voice of Humanity' to revive? Either the utterers of that sweet Voice are unacquainted with the humane management of Bees upon your plan, or they are unaware of the mischievous and destructive consequences attendant on the driving mode of deprivation, or they have little claim to the title they bear on the score of their humanity to Bees. I believe the former to be the case with them: and therefore, in addition to the reason already given for troubling you herewith, and in order to set them right on this vital subject, I give you full power to do what you please with these letters. If they will be of any use to you in your projected publication, give them a place in it, and welcome: only do not garble them, give them entire, if you give them at all. I am decidedly opposed to the driving scheme; and I as decidedly approve of yours, which is, if properly attended to, at once simple, practicable, profitable, admirable, and truly humane.

Accept me, Dear Sir,
Yours very truly,
Thomas Clark."

"Mr. Editor,

"Since the publication of the last No. of 'The Voice of Humanity,' in which you treated your readers with some interesting particulars explanatory of the construction and different parts of Mr. Nutt's Bee-boxes, and also of the mode of managing the Bees in them, so far at least as regards the taking away a box when stored with the delicious sweet (i. e. with honey), it has been suggested to me, that a plain, simple history of a colony of Bees in my possession, and managed according to Mr. Nutt's excellent plan, may not be altogether unacceptable to the general readers and friends of 'The Voice of Humanity' and may be even a treat to amateur apiarians, who may be unacquainted with the merits of Mr. Nutt's plan; or who, if partially acquainted therewith, may have their doubts as to its practicability, or, at least, as to its advantages, i. e. superiority over other plans. As far, then, as 6 The Voice of Humanity' can make them (the merits of Mr. Nutt's plan) known, I trust it will be as music to that Voice to publish the following facts.

"Having had a complete set of Mr. Nutt's boxes presented to me, I, though comparatively a novice in apiarian science, and not at that time particularly attached to it, could not, in compliment to the donor, do less than endeavour to work them, that was—get them stocked. That was done with a swarm on the 18th of May 1830; and the middle-box, or pavilion of nature, as Mr. Nutt calls it, into which the said swarm was taken just in the same way it would have been if put into a common straw-hive, was conveyed a distance of nearly four miles and placed in my garden in the evening of the same day. The next day being fine, I observed that the Bees were very busy constructing comb, and had, within twenty-four hours of their being domiciled in their new abode, actually made a progress in that most curious work that astonished me: they were passing and re-passing, and literally all alive; many were visibly loaded with materials for their ingenious work. My curiosity was excited, and so much was I pleased with my multitudinous labourers that I visited them daily, and many times in the course of each day, when the weather was favourable for their getting abroad. Their combs were rapidly advanced; but to my great mortification they very soon obstructed my view of their interior works, by bringing a fine comb quite over the only little window at the back of the pavilion, at the distance of about half an inch from the glass. I was not, however, without the means of ascertaining that they were filling the pavilion with their treasures, and consequently that they would soon be in want of more room. I, therefore, at the end of a fortnight admitted them into the large bell-glass by withdrawing the slide, which, when closed, cuts oft' the communication between the pavilion and the said glass. They (the Bees) immediately reconnoitred it, as it were, and examined it round and round, and presently took possession of it in great numbers; and in the course of the second day afterwards I could perceive that they began to continue their work upwards from and upon the combs in the box. Here I was again inexpressibly gratified by daily observing the progress of their beautiful work, and by the busy thousands in perpetual motion. When they had about half-filled the glass, and before I was aware that there was any occasion for their admission into either of the collateral-boxes, they suddenly threw off a swarm. That event I attribute partly to my own inexperience in apiarian matters, and partly—principally to the want of a thermometer by which to ascertain and regulate the temperature of the crowded pavilion, so as to keep the Bees at the working, and below the swarming point of heat. Mr. Nutt assures me that a barn would not contain a colony of Bees if its temperature were raised above a certain degree. What that precise degree of heat is I leave to Mr. Nutt to determine and explain: at present it is enough to state that I am convinced it is possible, nay, quite easy, to keep Bees at work, and to prevent their swarming, by giving them plenty of room, and by proper ventilation. After my Bees had thrown off the swarm, as above mentioned, the work in the glass progressed but slowly, indeed it was for some time almost deserted, owing, I presume, to the room made in the pavilion by the absence of the thousands that had left it: for, whenever the weather was such that they could get abroad, they were always busy. The season, however, it is well-known, was so wet as to be very unfavourable for Bees:—the summer of 1830 was not by any means what is called a Bee-year; and early in the autumn I could see that, instead of adding to their store, they were under the necessity of living upon it. They were, however, abundantly provided for the winter, and lived through it almost to a Bee. In the spring of this year (1831) they appeared to be strong and in excellent condition. As early as the middle of May they had replenished the emptied combs in the glass, and, it may be presumed, in the pavilion too. In the first week of June, the glass was completely filled in the most beautiful manner. I therefore opened the communication to one of the end or collateral-boxes, and two or three days afterwards, viz. on the 10th of June, I took off the glass and replaced it with another. So rapidly did those industrious little insects proceed with their work, that in about six weeks they completely filled the end-box. I then opened the way to the empty box at the other end of the pavilion: and a few days afterwards had the full box taken off by Mr. Nutt himself (who happened to call upon me, and who handsomely volunteered his services on the occasion), without any stifling of any sort—without the destruction, or the loss, of—scarcely a Bee,—as nearly in the manner described in your last No. as circumstances would permit; for the Queen-Bee being in the box taken off made it necessary for Mr. Nutt to vary the operation a little;—not a person was stung, though ladies, very timid ladies, and children too, were among the admiring lookers on; only, in returning the Queen-Bee, found in the box, to the pavilion, I myself was stung, owing to my over-anxiety to see how she would be received by the Bees in the pavilion. Her majesty's presence in that box (the box taken off) at that time might probably have puzzled me; but to Mr. Nutt it presented no difficulty; and to witness his operation was to me a most instructive lesson, and would have delighted any friend of humanity. It was performed in the middle of a fine day. That box contained, as nearly as we could estimate, about 35 lbs. of honey, incomparably purer and finer than any I ever saw, except from Mr. Nutt's boxes. The glass beforementioned contained 12 lbs.—so that I have this year taken forty-seven pounds of the very finest honey from one stock of Bees;—I have all my Bees alive—and they are at this time abundantly provided for the ensuing winter; nay, without impoverishing them, I believe, I might take 6 or 8 lbs. more; but I have already had enough; and, if my Bees have more than enough for their winter's consumption, they will not waste it;—it will be found next year.

"The preservation of the Bees unhurt, uninjured, very many of them undisturbed at all,—the quantity of honey that may be had,—and the very superior quality of that honey, are advantages of Mr. Nutt's mode of Bee-management, over the barbarous, stifling system, that cannot fail to recommend it to the adoption of every friend of humanity,—to every lover of the delicious sweet,—and to every apiarian who has nothing beyond self-interest in view.

"One word more, and I have done. There are, I observe with pleasure, persons of considerable influence among your subscribers, and probably there may be persons of still greater influence among your readers. To such I would most respectfully suggest the propriety of doing something to reward Mr. Nutt for the services he has already rendered the Honey-Bee and the cause of humanity. I—an obscure, country clergyman, know not how to set about procuring it; but a premium was never more richly deserved.

"Though longer than I intended, when I sat down to write, I hope you will find no difficulty in giving the foregoing communication a place in your pages; and, in this hope, I beg to subscribe myself,

Your humble servant,
Thomas Clark.

"Gedney-Hill, near Wisbech,
October 20th, 1831.".