Read Ebook: The Girl's Own Paper Vol. XX No. 1024 August 12 1899 by Various Peters Charles Active Editor

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"I never saw such a place for rainbows!" cried Sheila. "Miss Adene told me about them, but I never could have believed without seeing. Why, first thing in the morning as I lie in bed I can see them hanging over the hills. Oh, you don't know what the sunrises are like--I mean the reflected light upon the hills, all red and lovely every morning, and to be able to watch it as you lie in bed! I shall never forget it as long as I live! I wonder if I shall ever see Madeira again?"

"You shall if you want to," said Ronald so softly that he did not think she heard.

"Let us come down the steps and watch the sea," said Ronald when they reached the hotel, "the rest won't be back just yet. I love to go down the steps and get right to its level."

Sheila loved it too, and wished that she could bathe there in the mornings, as the young men did. It was something of a scramble, but she delighted in making it. The surf always broke grandly at the base of the rocks, however calm the sea looked from above. They stood watching it a long time, and they talked of many things, till suddenly the quickly coming darkness warned them that it was time to go back and dress for dinner.

"I shall never forget our day at Camacha all my life," said Ronald, holding her hands to help her up the rough boulders.

She looked back at him, and her face flushed softly.

"I am sure I never shall," she answered.

THE PLEASURES OF BEE-KEEPING.

BY F. W. L. SLADEN.

The hive generally fills rapidly with honey during July. When the super is full it may be removed from the hive, and, if honey is still coming in in fair quantity, another one substituted for it.

The combs in the middle of the super are always finished first, the work extending from the centre outwards, so that if, by lifting a corner of the quilts we see that the outside combs are sealed over, we may be sure that all the combs in the super are finished in like manner, and that the super is ready for removal.

I will now describe the operation of removing a full rack of sections from off the hive. The bees, of course, must first have timely warning that something is about to be done by our giving them a few light puffs of smoke under the quilt. After leaving them for a minute, the rack of sections may be prized up underneath, at the back, with a screw-driver, and a few more puffs of smoke blown into the opening thus formed. The rack of sections may now be lifted right off the hive and taken away. If another rack is not to be put on, the sheet of queen-excluding zinc must also be removed, and the quilts must be taken from off the rack of sections to cover the frames in the stock-box. The hive may then be closed up.

But the operation by no means concludes here; the super is full of bees, and our work now will be to get rid of these. The quickest and simplest way of doing this is to take each section out of the rack and shake the bees off it on to the alighting-board of the hive; in doing this a goose-wing or bottle-brush will be found useful to brush off any bees that may not be detached by a few gentle shakes. The sections must be handled carefully, as they are rather fragile, and the comb is easily cracked and bruised.

The super-clearer is placed between the super and the stock-box. If the weather is warm it will be found that in about twenty-four hours' time not a bee will be left in the super, and it may then be removed and brought indoors. In colder weather the super-clearer may take two days or more to do its work. It should not be left on the hive after the super has been taken away, but must be removed with a little smoke, its place over the frames being taken by the quilts.

One word of caution is necessary before we leave the subject of removing the super.

Combs containing honey, or drops of honey, must never be left out-of-doors, or anywhere within reach of the bees. Their scent for all sweets of this kind is very keen, especially if there is not much to be obtained in the fields, and they will soon discover and steal them, even fighting over the ill-gotten booty, so that many thousands of workers are sometimes killed by their greedy companions. Frequently the mischief does not end here, for when the robbers have finished their spoil they may, in their thirst for more, attack and force a passage into the hive of some weak neighbouring colony, which is incapable of defending its stores against such an overwhelming army of marauders, and this will often result in the annihilation of the luckless colony--"cleared out," as the bee-keeper, who has not been careful to prevent the mischief in the beginning, exclaims with surprise, when in going the round of his hives a few days later, he discovers too late the sad state of affairs.

Sections of honey-comb should be stored in a warm and dry place. For home use they may be left in the section-rack, but if they are to be offered for sale they must be separated, and the particles of wax and propolis scraped off the sides and edges of the wood of each section, care being taken in so doing not to bruise or crack the combs.

Sections for sale are rendered more attractive if placed in neat cardboard boxes, with or without glass on one side. These boxes can be obtained from any of the dealers in bee-appliances. 1s. to 1s. 3d. ought to be readily obtained for a section of good honey done up in this way; but the price of honey varies in different seasons and districts.

In removing a super containing shallow frames, proceed in the same way as with the rack of sections. The honey must be extracted from these frames in the honey-extractor.

The extracting should be done immediately after the frames are taken from off the hive, while the combs are still warm.

Two combs having been uncapped, they will be placed in the cages of the extractor, and the handle turned so as to make them revolve. This must be done slowly at first. A few turns of the extractor will bring the centrifugal force into play by which the honey will be thrown out in countless drops, which will settle on the inside walls of the extractor, and coalescing, will trickle down to the receptacle in the bottom of the machine in which the clear amber fluid will quickly gather. There is a danger, in turning the handle too fast, of the honey not getting extracted on the inside of the comb, pressing on the midrib, and breaking through it, especially in warm weather when the wax is soft. This danger is reduced by the use of "wired" combs. In from five to ten minutes' time the honey will cease to flow from the combs. The turning must then be stopped, the combs lifted out and replaced in the extractor with the reverse side outward, the revolving process being then repeated to extract the honey from the second side of the comb. When the combs are again lifted out they will be emptied, and the extractor will be ready to take another pair of uncapped combs. The emptied combs should be given back to the bees, either to be filled again with honey, or to be licked clean preparatory to their being put away for the winter for use next year.

The wax cappings should also be strained in a warm room to separate the honey. They may then be melted down in a pan of water over a slow fire. When they are quite melted, the pan should be removed and stood in a cool place. In a few hours' time the beeswax will be found to have set in a solid cake, floating on the surface of the water. The impurities which have collected on the under side of the cake can be scraped off. If desired, the wax can again be melted and cast in convenient-sized blocks in moulds which have previously been well smeared with sweet oil to prevent the wax sticking to them. An appliance called a wax-extractor will be useful for rendering larger quantities of wax from old combs.

Beeswax comes in very useful for a variety of purposes in the home. Mixed with spirits of turpentine, it forms a valuable furniture polish. A lump is handy in the work-basket for waxing sewing-threads. It is also useful for securing foundation in frames and sections. A compound of beeswax with mutton fat, with the addition of a little lamp-black, sweet oil, turpentine, and lard, makes an excellent dubbing for children's boots in the winter, keeping the leather soft and dry.

Carrying out the details of harvesting their crop of honey in the manner described above is a pleasant enough occupation with most bee-keepers, but it is one that I fear a good many of my readers may not have the pleasure of experiencing in this their first season.

Perhaps the swarm has not been strong enough to do any work in the super at all, and the sad prospect of no honey this season is rather a damper to your ardour. Never mind, the bees may have been able to gather more than enough for themselves in the stock-box. If, however, the colony is very weak, the bees not nearly filling the stock-box, they will now require a little looking after to bring them up quickly to the requisite strength, to ensure successful wintering, followed by a profitable yield of honey, or perhaps a swarm or two, next year. If the weather keeps unfavourable, they may require feeding. Such feeding should be kept up regularly two or three times a week, and only a small quantity of syrup given at each time. It will then have the effect of encouraging breeding.

Another good way to stimulate a weak colony is to give it a comb containing brood from another stronger hive that can well afford to spare it. The bees on the comb must be shaken back into the hive from which they came before it is put into the hive we want to strengthen, and care must be taken to see that the queen, should she chance to be on this particular comb, is returned to her hive in safety. Bees from different hives will not agree if put together, unless special means are taken to make them do so, and these will be explained later on when we consider "uniting."

Those who have been fortunate enough to secure a crop of honey may sometimes be disappointed to find that it is inferior in quality, with a more or less disagreeable flavour. This is a trouble which it is beyond the power of the bee-keeper to remedy, as it depends on the flora of the neighbourhood. The best honey, barring heather honey, is very pale in colour, and comes chiefly from the Dutch clover, sainfoin, mustard and lime-tree blossoms. Inferior kinds are darker; the blackberry and sunflower are among the flowers to which credit is given for producing them, and probably most honey obtained from mixed bloom, whether in the garden or on the wayside, is not so good as that which is gathered from flowers of the clover group. But what most spoils a sample of honey, making it dark and unpalatable, is leaf honey or honey-dew. This substance is not really honey, being secreted by the leaves of certain trees, especially the lime-tree, oak, and sycamore, and in some years much more than in others. The bees feed on it with relish, but it is not wholesome for them.

CHRONICLES OF AN ANGLO-CALIFORNIAN RANCH.

BY MARGARET INNES.

ON THE RANCH--THE ANIMALS.

It would be difficult for anyone who has never had the work to do, to realise how puzzling it is to take an up-and-down hilly piece of land, all covered with shrub and brush, and plan it out so that all shall be placed conveniently, and also look at its best.

In our great hurry, we had certainly chosen the wrong place for our barn, and, moreover, it was much too small. We saw now perfectly well which was the right place. So as soon as the last piece of furniture had been lifted into the house, the carpenters set to work to take the barn to pieces, and carry it down the hill to the new site upon which we had settled.

It is a wonderful and rather a fearful thing to see how they can move large and small buildings about in this land of ingenuity. One feels quite embarrassed the first time one meets a house walking down the middle of a street. No doubt it is a great convenience to be able to keep your own house, and yet change your neighbourhood!

An acquaintance of ours, having some money to invest, put up a neat row of small detached houses on a piece of land which he had bought during a boom in those parts. The boom, alas! departed, leaving, as usual, disaster and emptiness behind, and these poor little houses stood all by themselves, never a single tenant or purchaser offering for them. Finally, however, someone of enterprise was found, who chose one for himself, and having a "lot" in an attractive part of San Miguel, had his new cottage driven over and rearranged in its new setting.

This answered so well, that it seemed to break the spell of ill-luck for the others also, and soon we were much amused to meet another and yet another of Jim Baxter's houses driving with stately slowness up and down the different streets of San Miguel, till the desolate little row, planted quite four miles away in an empty waste, had all been absorbed into friendly comfortable corners of the town.

Our present barn has very little resemblance to the original one, which was, however, all absorbed into it. With all the additions which have grown as they were felt to be needed, it is now about four times the size of the little wooden box we lived in during those four hot, dusty months.

There is a large, cool, lemon-curing room in the centre, over which is the hay-loft, holding twenty-five tons. At one side is a convenient workshop, with joiner's bench, and all necessary arrangements for the many different kinds of jobs one has to do for oneself here, such as harness mending, soldering, etc. A nice little room for the ranchman is built over this. At the other side is a waggon-shed, and good-sized buggy-house, large enough to hold four vehicles. There are stalls for six horses and the cow, with one loose box, and a shed extending over one part of the corral, to give shade from the fierce sun. This, with hen-houses, etc., is quite a little settlement.

We have a comfortable bench down there, where I often sit in the evening, during "chore" time, while the animals are being made comfortable for the night; the cow milked, with the barn cat in close attendance, waiting for her accustomed share; the horses each in turn brought to the trough for a drink; the hens, too, after much fuss and hysterical chatter, fed and shut up, lest the coyotes, whose mocking yelp sounds often so very near in the night, should "carry off one to his den, oh!"

We soon realised in our ranch life how very much the animals added to our pleasure and interest. They are so very happy on a ranch, both dogs and horses, that one catches many a wave of the infection from them. They are so interested in each other and in us, showing such friendliness and affection, and also so much individuality. When the horses are not needed on the ranch, they are put into the corral, where they go through an impromptu circus performance of their own. After a good roll over in a spot carefully selected by much snuffing and pawing, they will stand on their hind legs in front of each other, pawing the air, and looking huge, then chase each other round and round the corral at such a speed, that one wonders they escape hurting themselves against the enclosing fence.

Poee, who is very exclusive, and resents the slightest intrusion on the part of any of the horses, lady or gentleman, has a stall close to the corral. As there is a window in her box, it is one of their mischievous pleasures to go softly up to it and look in, so as to hear Poee's angry shrill squeal, followed by a few hard kicks, when they scamper off, just as pleased as any wicked schoolboy who brings out an angry servant in answer to a runaway ring at the bell.

Jennie, the only other lady among them, though very nervous and high-strung, is much more amiable; in fact, she is quite ready to flirt and coquette with Rex. Like other flirts, she has more than one string to her bow, and though she does not really approve of Ben, she will tempt him to pay her attentions, which she receives with a virtuous and indignant squeal. They are all accustomed to being talked to, and look for occasional mouthfuls of something dainty from friends.

The dogs take a more intimate part still in our lives, and, indeed, we miss them greatly if for any reason they have to be left out of any expedition or undertaking. Whatever the spirit of the moment, they understand, and take the cue. If it is a pleasure drive, off for the day, with baskets of eatables and drinkables, then there is such excitement among them that they can hardly wait till we are ready, but make little false starts by themselves, to rush back, jumping up at the horses' noses again and again, bumping up against each other, and smiling at us. Or, if the business in hand is serious, like any work on the ranch, or hauling firewood from the Silvero Valley, they take part with quite a different air; every line of head and tail shows grave responsibility, and I am sure they are convinced that things could not be carried on without their help.

It is quite pathetic to see old Sport doing his ranch duties. He is a brown setter, and was getting well on in years when given to Larry, and is now showing many signs of real old age; but when the little grey team are being hitched up to the cultivation, or Ben is waiting, staid and obedient, to be harnessed to the plough, Sport will lift himself rather stiffly from his favourite seat, which is on the top of the rain-water cistern, from which high perch he can keep a ready look-out all over the ranch, and after a grave shake he trudges down the hill, and stands waiting quietly till all is ready, and will follow the plough up and down the ranch till his tired old legs can do no more, when he limps up to the house, and rests in a cosy corner with the air of one who has done his duty, and can look any man, or any dog, in the face.

Between him and Bullie there is an undying rivalry, kept in abeyance generally by the truly gentlemanly spirit of both dogs, but breaking out now and again into a savage fight, when everyone flies to the rescue, lest poor old Sport should have his little remnant of pleasant life shaken out of him.

Bullie is a very "low down" dog, mongrel to the tips of his big, clumsy toes; but he is Tip's dearly-loved friend, and, indeed, we all take part in him.

Skibi, the bull terrier, is a perfect darling. She is so bright, and loving, and quick, so anxious to please, so brave, that she would fain fly at all the dogs three times her own size, bristling her whole back, and looking terribly dangerous. It is no wonder that Bullie and Sport look hatred and murder at each other for her sake. Both Skibi and Bullie adore the horses. Bullie will stand perfectly rigid in front of Dick and Rex, waiting anxiously for a little notice. If they lean down and sniff at him, he seems to hold his very breath, and when they lay hold of him, by his thick, loose skin, and lift him off his legs, as they do sometimes , then the very height of his pride and ambition is reached.

The greetings which the dogs give one, either in the mornings, or when one returns after any absence, is so full of true love and friendship, that we would feel quite bereft without our faithful comrades in this lonely life.

VARIETIES.

DRIFTING.--No waste of time is so lavish as that which is the result of drifting, and there is no way in which people squander it more. Thousands of good intentions are daily swamped and destroyed, simply by allowing the time to slip away unconsciously until it is too late.

USEFULNESS.--Our duty is to be useful, not according to our desires, but according to our powers.

THE DEEPEST SECRET.--We shall have read the deepest secret of nature when we have read our own hearts.

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