Years ago, when I was a child in my father's home, I came to know what it was to keep bees and enjoy the luxury of honey. How well I remember the row of boxes on a bench in the back yard, under the apple trees, and the stings we children would get when we would venture too near, and the swarms that would come out on a Sunday morning when we were all about ready to start for a five-mile drive to church! If the house was discovered to be on fire it would not have caused more commotion. There was always a rush for pans, or anything that would make a noise, and we were all ordered to drum, drum, until they settled somewhere, which, of course, they did after a while, because it was their nature to do so. Then came the sawing of the limb, spreading out the sheet, etc.; and by the time the bees were hived it was dinner time, and, of course, we could not go to church.

In after years, when I became the wife of a minister I had the idea still that bees were something to be fearful of, though the honey was good if one could get at it. That was some twelve years ago, and now I am going to tell you something that will cause some timid mortal to hold up their hands in horror. I would much rather work with bees than with chickens.

My husband had kept bees for years before we were married, and had studied their nature with much zeal, and he soon convinced me there was nothing to fear whatever if you went at it in the right way, and money in it too-pleasure with profit. He bought his hives of The A. I. Root Co., and they did not in the least resemble the box hives with the stones to keep the lid on.

I was all curiosity to get a peep inside whenever he opened a hive; and before I knew it I was as deep into it as he, and soon learned the whole thing from the beginning. I can go out now and hive a swarm, not with fear but with pleasure.

By clipping the Queen's wing you have them well in hand. I have a cage, and when they come out I go and cage her. She will be found on the ground near the hive, and then I go about something else, or sit in the shade and watch them return, for go off they will not without the queen.

I like to be right down in front of the hive, and have them come pellmell all over my dress and hands. I rarely ever get a sting, and if I do it doesn't hurt like the peck of an old broody hen.

When a storm comes up I love to watch them come in from the fields out of the rain. You may go away from home, and need not fear their drowning. They know enough to come home themselves, and will do it, even if they are a mile away.

A ministers wife keeping bees? Why not? Not a few of them raise chickens, without any help whatever. It is a delight to be able to assist my husband, and know just what to do when he is away, or at home either; for one day this summer he was engaged in his study when a swarm came out and I handled them, and had them hived before he knew it. The work is far more ladylike than that other, without soiled hands, shoes, and mudbedraggled skirts. I want a few chickens for our own use, for in no other way can we enjoy the luxury of fresh eggs.

You can get hives and fixtures of The A. I. Root Co. as nearly perfect as it is possible for them to be, and I enjoy putting them together much better than making fancy work, thus saving my eyes, and getting freedom out of doors at the same time. I can make my own dresses; am quite an artist, so my friends say when they look over my paintings and enjoy needle work of all kinds, but I do not feel any more out of place with a hammer, putting together bee fixtures, than I do using my brushes or needle, for it brings me better health in the end, and honey; and honey is money, and who needs that more than a minister's wife?

Last year we purchased a queen-rearing outfit, and raised some queens; and I can hardly await the return of the "sweet summer time" to get at it again, for I enjoyed that best of all. I should think it would be a fine occupation for a woman.

The queen in the hive has much the same influence as the wife and mother in the home. Without her all is confusion. All the inmates do her homage. How beautiful it would be were their ways known and faithfully practiced in our homes, in the way the Lord taught them, shutting the door on the ways of the world!

You will see the writer as she looked holding a brood-frame pointing to the queen. The queen you can easily tell from the rest. She is much larger. The bees will protect and defend her in every way. She is a queen, and reigns as a queen, as the wife and mother should in the home.

The days are past when the most ladylike thing was for a woman (so the Bible makes mention of her) to know how to faint at the proper time.

My mind wanders on in another channel to butterflies, not queens; but it is bees I'm writing about. They are a whole history in themselves. New things are learned every day of their wonderful ways, which show the divine wisdom of the Creator-both theirs and ours. They have ways of their own which they will go; and, while we often can and do make them go our way, we are often obliged to let them have their way.