An apiarian, in Scotland, has given in the Cottage Gar-dener a narrative of his journey, in carrying four hives of bees to the moon. The first place they made application for liberty to leave them with a cottager, was denied, on the plea that they robbed the heather of its juice! making the cows' milk not worth a button for making butter. This is the wisdom (he says) of the nineteenth century, found up near the clouds behind Greenock. When, at length, they found a welcome, the bees began to work instanter, and in four minutes the first bee was seen to enter, bearing pollen; then another and another, fatter and faster, until (the fifteenth minute after being opened) every entrance of every hive is crowded with burdened bees. Between August 12 (when I left them) and October 5, when I brought them home, I visited them twice, and deprived three of them on my second visit. The result of their sojourn in the moors, comprising, of course, these deprivations, is given below. The hives consisted of two collateral and two storied, reduced prior to removal by depriving them of supers, side boxes, and side bars, to as nearly the same weight as possible, with the double object of testing the two systems where food was plentiful, and of avoiding the paradox of carrying honey to the heather.