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AGRICULTURAL.

The Honey-Bee.

There is no single domesticated thing so imperfectly understood as the honeybee, and none so much the subject of whim, strange conceits, absurd maxims, and absolute nonsense, in the notions of their management. A pile of books, from first to last, has been written of their history and domestic habits; and after all, there is not one person in fifty who, keeps them that knows how to manage them successfully. Many of the books which have been written about them are very good-among them Huber and Bevan rank high; while Thatcher, Weeks, and others, are so-so; yet all, according to my opiniou, strangely misconceiving the best plan of increasing their numbers, and of obtaining the greatest direct profit from their labors. Many projectors have got up new-fashioned hives, full of queer devices and fancied improvements, for which they have obtained patents, and then have written books to show the world how much better they were than any thing else ever invented, which they have palmed off on an ignorant or thoughtless public; and thus each one in turn has run his brief career of popularity until the guullibility of the public became exhausted, and wound up his gim-cracks, as another added to the thousand and one humbugs of the day. For bee-hives alone, not less than fifty or sixty patents have been issued from the American Patent Office at Washington, not one of them is worth the journey there and back to get it registered.

The upshot of this whole matter is, that we of the present day probably know no more of this insect than did the beemasters of the Nile, who flourished under the dominion of the Pharaohs, or than the Chinese now, who tend their bees just as they did five thousand years ago. The fact is, that the honey-bee is a simple, unsophisticated, capricions creature; unimproved either by arts or education; working salely by instinet; incapable of ingenuity, and prone at any favorable opportunity, to escape from the thraldom of man, and relapse into its original condition of barbarism and natural liberty. The bee is a denizen of the forest. Domestication is purely with it an artificial state, and a continual restraint upon its wild and roving propensities; and all the

efforts of man to direct its operations, and confine its labors, or to restrict its action through any other than the simplest contrivances will be found sadly at fault in the long run.

1 have heard many wonderful stories of the doings of bees, and the success attending their management at times; but never a continuation of the story for a long series of years, by a particularly artificial or complicated process. Some of them do pay very well for a time, but in the end generally blow up-bees, hives, honey and all-or rather the hives get robbed of the honey, and the bees themselves either die, or join in robbing their own stores, or take to the woods, or some other more congenial home, where they can pursue their labors undisturbed by the ingenuity of man. Such, after twenty years of pretty "sharp practice," as the lawyers say, has been my experience in bees. I have kept them in all ways, and after all methods-have been the willing victim, in a small way, of two or three remarkably clever hive-patentees -have had my hives two or three times depopulated-have started anew with fresh courage ou another plan, and after exhausting all the books-for I have read a moderate wheel-barrow load of themtossed all my gimcracks out of the window, or into the fire; and when I went back into the original plain box-plan of a single room, several years ago, I succeeded to admiration, and have since continued with more or less "good luck,”— for I find bees are a wonderful creature of luck with the multitude--until the present time.

Now I keep a dozen swarms-I never kill my bees to get their honey. It is cruel and unnecessary, besides being unprofitable. My rule is, the more hives, the more bees; the more bees the more honey. All within rule, understand, the size of hives, range of pasturage, &c. &c. as Mr. Miner directs. I have some of the chamber-hives as described in his second article, August No. of Agricultu rist, but more of the simple box-plan of twelve inches square, as described in his July number. These last all have holes in the tops for capping on to each other, in which the bees store their surplus honey. The chamber-hives are occupied by boxes for the same purpose. I have rather preferred the simple box-plan, for a reason which I will presently give. I

generally put the new or empty box under the full or working hive, and imme diately stop the entrance to the latter, driving them through the empty one, which, if the other be full, and the season propitious, they at once proceed to fill. When this latter hive is filled, I take off the top or old one altogether, set it in a dark place--a dark cellar with a small light in it, through which bees that are in it escape to the other habitation, is best--and it is soon relieved of their presence. I sometimes put the empty hive on the top of the inhabited one, particularly if this latter be a young one, and thus succeed equally well in securing the honey. I last year obtained from one hive, through two applications of the empty box, over 80 pounds of the whitest and purest honey; from another about 70, and still another, about 60 pounds; and 50, 40, 30, &c., from others, without detriment to their winter stores. The season, however, was favorable. Some years the flowers are so scanty in honey as to yield the bees not enough even for their summer support, to say nothing of their winter-forage, and thus I have lost many swarms, and closed the season with a less number than I had in the spring.

Now the reason why I have preferred the simple box-plan is this; it is said that the bees, after the liberation of the young from the cell, do not throw out the case in which it was enclosed, but simply tramp, or press it down to the bottom, which, in process of time, partially fills the cell so that the young bee is restricted in its size and becomes small and feeble, and of course an imperfect bee, unable to perform its allotted task, and of consequence the young swarms ultimately die, and the hive becomes depopulated. Whereas, by having a fresh and roomy comb for each, or perhaps every second year's breeding, the young are large, vigorous, and amply fitted to labor and direct their operations in the most vigorous manner. This fact seems to be pretty well settled among all thorough bee-masters; and some, to obviate the use of the old comb for breeding cells, in the month of March, annually turn up their hives and cut all the comb which is accessible, for the purpose of having new breeding cells supplied. Another proof of the superiority of new comb is, that old hives frequently run out"-Agricul.

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October.

Indian Corn is sometimes fit for harvesting by the first of this month, but when it stands secure in the field it is rot prudent to harvest it, in general, so early in the season. If we have but a small quantity and have room enough to spread it on floors, we may harvest sooner than when we put it in large bins.

'Advantage of Early Harvest.'-The only advantage we derive from an early harvest of Indian Corn lies in the superior value of the stover. When this is secured at an early day and properly mix. ed with straw or dry hay it makes excellent fodder for milch cows in the early part of winter. It causes the cows to give sweeter milk than will any kind of hay; and we have always found the quantity of milk greater when our cows were fed on good husks than when fed on any kind of hay.

When cows are fed wholly on hay, the milk is apt to have a bitter taste, and to impart the same to the butter that is made from it. It is therefore better to feed in the fore part of the winter on husks and vegetables, in part, so long as we continue to milk them.

When the corn is suffered to stand out late in October, the husks often become very dirty, from the spattering of the rain mixed with the soil, and cattle will not eat them so well. Husks that are suffered to stand out late are often too dry, and some farmers are in the practice of sprinkling them with salted water.

Potatoes.-Potatoes should stand in the field until they are ripe. Their quality is decidedly better, and it is a waste to dig them while the vines are green. The long red potato, or long John, is excellent when ripe, but it wants a long season, and it is often harvested before it is fit to be used for food.

'Modes of Digging"-Some farmers run a plough along the rows at the sides to facilitate the operation of diggingsome split the hills open in the centre with a common plough; but they often cut and mangle the potatoes so much as to injure them for keeping. A plough might be formed with a very sloping coulter, made so blunt that it would not cut a potato-having double mould plates to turn the earth each way, and much labor would be saved. The toil of digging away, by hand hoes, the large piles of earth would be unnecessary.-Almanac.

640

POETRY.

My Mother's Voice.

My mother's voice! I hear it now! I feel her hand upon my brov

As when, in heart-felt jo',

She raised her evening hymn of praise,
And called down blessings on the days
Of her loved boy.

My mother's voice! I hear it now!
Her hand is on my burning brow,

As in that early hour,

When fever throbbed through all my veins,
And that kind hand first soothed my pains,
With healing power.

My mother's voice! It sounds as when
She read to me of holy men-

The patriarchs of old;

And gazing downward in my face,
She seemed each infant thought to trace,
My young eyes told.

It comes when thoughts unhallowed throng,
Woven in sweet deceptive song-

And whispers round my heart,
As when, at eve, it rose on high;
I hear, and think that she is nigh,
And they depart.

Though round my heart, all-all beside-
The voice of friendship, love, had died—
That voice would linger there,

As when, soft pillowed on her breast,
Its tones first lulled my infant rest,
Or rose in prayer.

[Jones Veby.

I Wandered by the Brook Side.

I wandered by the brook-side,

I wandered by the mill;

I could not hear the brook flow,
The noisy wheel was still;
There was no burr of grasshoppers,
No chirp of any bird,

But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.

I sat beneath the elm-tree,

I watched the long, long shade,
And as it grew still longer,
I did not feel afraid;

For I listened for a foot-fall,
1 listened for a word,

But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.

He came not,-no, he came not,-
The night came on alone;
The little stars sat one by one,
Each on his golden throne,

The evening air passed by my cheek,
The leaves above were stirred,

But the beating of my own heart,
Was all the sound I heard.

Fast silent tears were flowing,
When something stood behind,
A hand was on my shoulder,
I knew its touch was kind'

It drew me nearer,-nearer,-
We did not speak one word,
For the beating of our own hearts
Was all the sound we heard.-SEL.

WEAR A SMILE.-Which will you do, smile and make others happy, or be crabbed and make everybody around you miserable? You can live among beautiful flowers and singing birds, or in the mire surrounded by fogs and frogs. The amount of happiness you can produce is incalculable, if you will show a smiling face, a kind heart, and speak pleasant words. On the other hand, by sour looks, cross words, and a fretful disposition, you can make scores and hundreds wretched almost beyond endurance. Which will you do? Wear a pleasant countenance, let joy beam in your eye, and love glow on your forehead. There is no joy so great as that which springs from a kind act or a pleasant deed, and you may feel it at night, when you rest; at morning, when you rise, and through the day, when about your daily business.

"A smile-who will refuse a smile,
The sorrowing breast to cheer?
And turn to love the heart of guile,
And check the falling tear?-SEL.

Men, like books, have at each end a blank leaf-childhood and old age.

Solution of French sentences, &c., p. 624. September. Come to see whether the wheat is very ripe.

Yes, indeed, it is yellow as gold. Holloa! Matthew! Run, collect your men. Let them come to reap this wheat. Charles, take a head of wheat in your hands.

Do not be afraid the beards will not wound you.

See how many grains each head contains.

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OUR NEW EDITION.-The bound Vols. i. and ii. of Dwight's Am. Magazine, (in muslin or half-sheep), are delivered to purchasers in Boston, Buffalo, Baltimore, Philadelphia and intermediate places, free of freight," at the N. York price. Enclose to the Editor $5, and vols. i. and ii. will be brought to the door. 5 sets for $20. $7 will pay for vols. i. and ii., and also the current Vol. iii., in monthly pamphlets. The remaining numbers of the latter will be sent by mail, at a small postage.

For $10 will be sent vols. i., ii.. iii., and iv., (for 1848.) and any book in the market that may be ordered, not costing more than $1.50.

DWIGHT'S AMERICAN MAGAZINE. AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER; With numerous Engravings,

Edited by Theodore Dwight,

Is published weekly, at the office of the New York Express, No. 112 Broadway, at 4 cents a number, or, to subscribers paying in advance, $2 a year. 7 sets for $10. Monthly, in covered pamphlets, at same price. Postmasters are authorized to remit money, and are requested to act as agents.

Enclose a Two Dollar Bill, without payment of postage, and the work will be sent for the year. Vols. I. and II., half-bound, or in muslin, $2.50 each.

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rited a game sometimes attracts a large number of spectators in a fine winter's day, especially when the scene of the sport is near a populous town.

Public amusements afford a subject for interesting reflection. They naturally display more or less of the character of the people, or at least of the classes to whom they belong, and have more or less influence in forming or perpetuating that character. Of course then the important questions arise: what are their physical, intellectual, and moral tendencies? Most of the ruder athletic games, like

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that above depicted afford healthful exercise in the open air, and the day-time, without much exposure of health or limb, while they can hardly be said to have, in themselves, any distinct effects upon the mind or the character; although they naturally tend to the dissipation of time and other more injurious amusements. When, however, they are free from objections of this kind, they are far more harmless, in every point of view, than the more fashionable, and, as some think, refined practices of citizens. Balls and theatres encroach far upon the hours de signed for repose; draw off the mind and the heart from the solid enjoyments and the important duties of the family, lead to the formation of acquaintances and tastes foreign to the sphere in which God has placed to us, and usually hostile to the true interests of ourselves and those with whom we are most intimately connected. False scenes and characters are impressed upon the mind, with all the force of gay company, splendid decoration and fascinating music. The brilliancy within the illuminated halls and the obscurity of night without, co-operate to banish the real world, and to make the ideal appear like the true; and so successful has art become in crowding false impressions upon the senses, in those scenes of fashionable dissipation, that it is almost impossible for the mind to be exposed to them without receiving some injury, especially in youth. The permanent effects, it is true, may be different in different persons: but, when good is produced it is rather by an indirect course of disappointment and chagrin.

It seems to us a very desirable thing, that the nature and tendencies of amusements should be better understood; and the subject is one well worthy of the attention of the most learned and acute minds. Thousands of parents act without due consideration or a thorough knowledge of the amusements of their children, and evils are produced which they would gladly have prevented. Even learned and excellent men, within the sphere of our own observation, entertain very erroneous opinions on this subject, and habitually indulge in amusements whose nature or tendency they seem not to be aware of. Some of them, if brought to more just views, might ere this have been in the daily enjoyment of pleasures of a higher kind, and engaged in

leading others to occupations of great public benefit.

But the whole question involves that of the appropriation of leisure time; a most important an enquiry.

The game of ball is very ancient. The Romans had four kinds of pilæ, or balls: viz. the trigon or trigonalis; two sorts of follis; and the harpast. In the first of these were three players, who stood in a triangle, as in the game of "threehole cat." The balls in the second and third games were made of leather and filled with air, like our foot-balls, the large ones being struck with the armand the smaller with the fist. The large were probably most used in country-villages, as they were called paganica. The harpast was so named because the players eudeavored to snatch it from each other. Galen wrote a complete treatise on the smaller kind of ball play.

Onr readers will find a minute description of the ball-plays of the American Indians in our second volume, beginning at page 417, with a fine illustrative print, representing the game as played by the Ojibways.

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