Mr. Editor:—Sometime ago, in one of our articles, we mentioned that we considered the “Apiary” department in the “Rural New Yorker” of more real worth than some of the periodicals specially devoted to bees.

We had then seen about half a dozen of the “Rurals” that contained some very good articles, from the pens of intelligent bee-keepers who were well up to the times. Since then, however, we have seen so much else there so greatly behind the times, that we must think our decision then a little hasty. For instance last week a bee-keeper takes the trouble to inform the public that “hives should be moved in the night when the bees are all in, for he had just moved some in the day time and a large number that were out, never found their hive on their return. So take notice everybody, always move your bees at night!” As this was given as a piece of valuable information, we looked in vain for some note from the editors, cautioning their readers against falling into the same error, and pointing it out. And then we wondered if the editors knew any better, or anything about bees at all, for many of their articles seem to imply that they are uninformed and publish anything they come across, indiscriminately, truth and error, without note or comment.

The editor of the Apiculturist thought it the height of absurdity because we seemed to consider him in any way responsible for what his correspondent wrote. We certainly were so innocent as to suppose that an editor knew what he was going to publish, and that should a correspondent send him an article containing a very gross error, calculated to lead beginners astray, he would tell such correspondent his mistake, without using his article; or if it contained something else good and valuable, and he decided to publish it, he would kindly mention the mistake or error, in a little note somewhere, and give his readers confidence by letting them know that some one was “running the machine” “somewhere.”

There are a large number of good farmers who refuse to read agricultural papers, because they say, and with considerable reason, that more than half that is written is “impracticable nonsense.” We believe the American Agriculturist and the American Bee Journal are at least two noble exceptions. None of their readers can fail to know that each of those papers is edited by some one who is fully posted, and is at home too every time.

The Apiculturist intimates that we think no one else has a right to start a bee journal. So far from that we would be glad to subscribe this minute for half a dozen more; if they were in charge of competent men and had the broad platform before them that our own Journal has—namely, the advancement of bee culture for the nation at large.

We should have replied to the Apiculturist before, but he “called names,” and when we were a small boy we used to make it a principle that when our comrades called us names, we “wouldn’t play any more,” and we feel just so still.

We, too, Mr. Editor, noticed the mention in the “Scientific American,” of the chicken roost bee arrangement to stop moths, and felt pained to think that anything, so far behind the times, should be found in that paper. Then, again, we noticed shortly after where they advised a correspondent to chop up his combs and strain the honey out, and mentioned too that it was said that the outside combs contained the nicest honey! Have Munn & Co., too, been sleeping in Rip Van Winkle style, or do they think us Bee Journal people not to be depended on?

We have had many letters from highly intelligent people, even professors in colleges, asking about the melextractor and inquiring whether there was no serious objection to such unnatural treatment of bees?

“Unnatural treatment,” indeed! About the 25th of last June, a farmer called on us to know where he could sell his honey best. On asking him how he had got it so early, he coolly informed us that he had taken it up, as it seemed full! But how about the brood? He didn’t know what we meant by brood, but had thrown away the young bees and did not think that they were of any use! Murdered thousands of young innocents before the end of June! Of course such treatment is perfectly natural and right. He didn’t get much for his honey.

Mr. Editor, we are getting hoarse in trying to explain, and all we tell inquirers now is to get the “American Bee Journal.” Yet many, many times they can’t afford it, and many more times don’t get time to read it. Yet the same persons will say—“Why, Novice, your forty-six hives of bees have been worth more to you than any hundred acre farm in Medina county,” and go home quite excited.

We have had a few weeks’ drouth, the first this season, and it soon stopped the honey from autumnal wild flowers.

Since Mr. Tillinghast suggested our being called “Expert” (or some such foolishness), we think we could hardly be honest without confessing some of our work this fall. For instance, we removed queen from No. 23, August 9th, and ten days after cut out thirty-two (32) queen cells. We have mentioned before that we tried hatching some of them in cages, and the rest were put in hives from which we had removed hybrid queens. We were such an expert at the business that we hatched about one-half the thirty-two, and after they were hatched, we bungled the life out of every one—some by artificial fertilization experiments; and the rest wouldn’t lay and finally died their “own selves.”

Well, (we have considerable patience,) we tried again; removed queen from No. 16, August 28, and cut out twenty-one (21) cells ten days after. Of these we did raise five laying queens; and most of the other cells were destroyed by laying them on the top of the frames when the weather was too cool. In fact we have had more cells destroyed this fall than ever before, and only saved five by inserting them carefully in place of one cut out. Now, Mr. Editor, we should have felt somewhat better at this result, had we not discovered that the original queen removed from No. 16 had been killed, and only a miserable, small, black queen reared in her place. She was put in a hive in which we had a caged, unfertile queen, and we neglected to look whether they had raised any more. Inexcusable carelessness, we call it.

To shorten the matter, we sent Mr. Grimm fifty dollars on Monday morning, and received twenty-five nice queens (or a part of them at least) on Saturday afternoon. Is not that pretty prompt?

Now, Mr. Editor, we are going to take this queen raising business up next spring just where we left off; and if we can’t do better, and at least raise enough for our own apiary, we shall call ourself something worse than

Novice.

October 10, 1870.

[For the American Bee Journal.]