takes place in the circulation of the fluids of the body, by which the system is accommodated to a higher or lower temperature. But we leave this part of the question to the naturalists learned in the science.

If we are correct in this our opinion, the suggestion of Dr Anderson would not be available in our climate. If, according to his proposal, bees were to be kept all winter in an icehouse, more causes than one would operate to the injury of their health, and consequently to the decrease of their number. The temperature of an ice-house, unless we are to suppose the hive to be buried in the ice itself, is much higher than that which is without the house. The torpor, therefore, would not be so complete, as to put a stop to the digestive process. The bees would be compelled to eat; and as their food is constantly in contact with the impure, stagnant air of the icehouse, it would soon become vitiated and engender diseases.

We know of but two diseases to which the bees are subject in this country, and they have to our knowledge never occurred at any other season, than the early part of the spring,-dysentery and dyspepsia. The latter arises from the indolent, inactive life that they are compelled to lead, in our variable winters. The rule holds good with the most diminutive, as well as the greatest, in animal life, that if we eat and wish to preserve health, we must work.'

During the last winter (1828), the bees suffered more and lost more of their numbers, than has often been known before. There was scarcely a day, that they did not sally out to search for employment and food; but not being properly stimulated, they seldom returned to the hive. We frequently saw them crawling on the ground, weak and spiritless; and those that did return soon perished. On examining the hives, we observed that nearly all the honey was consumed; and many of the brood, that, in ordinary seasons, are not hatched until the first part of April, assumed the fly form at an earlier period and died.

The cure for this disorder the bees take into their own hands. As soon as the flowers appear, they go to work; and then it is, that they resort to aperients and tonics, which they abstract from the floors of the piggeries.

The other disease proceeds from long confinement in bad air and from unwholesome food, and is invariably fatal; nor can the bees avert it by any instinct of their own. We know of no cure for the dysentery, when the bee is seized with it. VOL. XXVII.-NO. 61.

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Those that have it badly must die. We can restore those that are least affected, by frequently washing the hives, as far as we can reach, with weak lie, and by ventilating them and removing the dead bees.

Much has been said of the danger to be apprehended from placing an apiary too near our own dwelling. There is indeed no positive advantage in having it very near; but as the person usually engaged in hiving the bees is occupied with farming affairs, and is not always present when the bees swarm, it is proper that the apiary should be within sight of the family. A bee certainly has frequently attacked a horse, and we have once or twice heard of one being stung to death. Considering the great number of hives of bees, it is really wonderful, that more accidents of this kind have not occurred. But they are exceedingly rare ; and when we know how many hundred horses annually die from the disease called the botts, which proceeds from the maggots of the egg, laid by the horse-bee on the hair of the animal, the very few that suffer from the sting of the honey-bee do not deserve to be taken into consideration.

In every point of view, therefore, it appears that bees should be cultivated. The wax that is consumed in this country, in various ways, is enormous, and most of it is imported. If we may credit Huish, Great Britain imports from Germany and Italy upwards of eighty thousand pounds sterling worth of wax annually. We are unable to say, with any precision, to what amount it is imported by us; but judging from the quantity that each family uses in a year, and the amount employed in various arts, it must be worthy of notice.

It is really disgraceful to such a country as ours to import wax or honey. We ought ourselves to export tons of it every year; and we trust that, in the course of a few years, this improvement will take place. Massachusetts and Connecticut are well situated, and abundantly supplied with proper food for bees; and their climate, being less variable, is better adapted to their nature. We spoke of hills of twenty or thirty feet in height; this only applies to the site of an apiary near a dwelling. The dwelling itself may be on a hill. We have heard of convents situated on mountains, that have been well stocked with hives. In short, nothing is wanting but good pasture, good hives, cleanliness, and attention, to insure a rich reward to those who engage in the pursuit.

Children are naturally very fond of watching the proceedings

of bees, and they would soon learn to take care of them, if they were not taught to fear them. All danger can be guarded against, by making them wear woollen gloves that are long enough to draw over their sleeves at the wrist, and a wire cap to cover their head. They could thus be trained to manage bees; and training is quite as necessary to the full comprehension of the occupation, as it is in the trade of a carpenter or a shoe-maker.

It would be unjust not to refer again to Mr Butler's little book, after making it the occasion of expressing our own thoughts. We shall rejoice if our slender notice of his work should encourage him to put forth a new edition; and we shall now take leave of the subject, although it be almost inexhaustible, by an anecdote, that we have reserved for the conclusion, that it may make the deeper impression.

A good old French bishop, in paying his annual visit to his clergy, was very much afflicted by the representations they made of their extreme poverty, and which the appearance of their houses and families corroborated. Whilst he was deploring the state of things which had reduced them to this sad condition, he arrived at the house of a curate, who, living amongst a poorer set of parishioners than any he had yet visited, would, he feared, be in a still more woful plight than the others. Contrary, however, to his expectations, he found appearances very much improved. Everything about the house wore the aspect comfort and plenty. The good bishop was amazed. 'How is this, my friend?' said he; 'you are the first man that I have met with a cheerful face and a plentiful board. Have you any income independent of your cure?' 'Yes, sir,' said the clergyman, 'I have; my family would starve on the pittance I receive from the poor people that I instruct. Come with me into the garden, and I will show you the stock that yields me an excellent interest.' On going to the garden, he showed the bishop a large range of bee-hives. There is the bank from which I draw an annual dividend. It never stops payment.' Ever after that memorable visit, when any of his clergy complained to the bishop of poverty, he would say to them, 'Keep bees, keep bees;' and we shall bid our readers adieu with the same advice.

ART. V.-The Life of John Ledyard, the American Traveller; comprising Selections from his Journals and Correspondence. By JARED SPARKS. Cambridge. Hilliard & Brown. 8vo. pp. 325.

THE name of Ledyard has long been associated with recollections of enterprise, decision of character, and an adventurous spirit, doomed to struggle with reverses of fortune through life, and to meet at length an untimely end. His voyage with Cook, his travels in northern Europe and Siberia, his testimony to female excellence, and his readiness to encounter new dangers and sufferings in exploring the interior of Africa, these prominent traits in the history of his career were familiar to all. But the numerous details contained in the interesting publication before us were necessary to fill up the picture of energy and hardihood, and unfold the peculiar springs by which the movements of this extraordinary individual were actuated. Doubtless many of our readers have made themselves personally acquainted with the merits of Mr Sparks's work; and for the benefit of such as have not, we abstract from it a brief account of Ledyard's romantic life.

John Ledyard was born in 1751, of respectable parents residing at Groton in Connecticut. His father died in early life, leaving his family in destitute circumstances, and thus rendering the subject of our narrative dependent upon the kindness of his relations for education and support. He was at first designed for the profession of the law, which he studied for a time at Hartford. This pursuit being found uncongenial to his temper, he relinquished it at the age of nineteen, and and entered Dartmouth College in 1772, with the apparent intention of qualifying himself to become a missionary among the Indians. Of his conduct and history at college, all that is known is marked by extreme eccentricity of character, manifesting that unsettled, rambling disposition, which afterwards displayed itself in the distant expeditions of the daring traveller. Before he had been quite four months in college, he suddenly disappeared, and was absent several months, wandering among the Indians of the Six Nations, and as far as the borders of Canada. Soon after this he abandoned his missionary schemes, and began to grow weary of college, which he finally left, in a manner so whimsical and eccentric, and at the same time so characteristic, that we copy our author's account of it.

'On the margin of the Connecticut river, which runs near the college, stood many majestic forest trees, nourished by a rich soil. One of these Ledyard contrived to cut down. He then set himself at work to fashion its trunk into a canoe, and in this labor he was assisted by some of his fellow students. As the canoe was fifty feet long and three wide, and was to be dug out and constructed by these unskilful workmen, the task was not a trifling one, nor such as could be speedily executed. Operations were carried on with spirit, however, till Ledyard wounded himself with an axe, and was disabled for several days. When recovered he applied himself anew to his work; the canoe was finished, launched into the stream, and by the further aid of his companions, equipped and prepared for a voyage. His wishes were now at their consummation, and, bidding adieu to these haunts of the muses, where he had gained a dubious fame, he set off alone with a light heart to explore a river, with the navigation of which he had not the slightest acquaintance. The distance to Hartford was not less than one hundred and forty miles, much of the way was through a wilderness, and in several places there were dangerous falls and rapids.

'With a bearskin for a covering, and his canoe well stocked with provisions, he yielded himself to the current, and floated leisurely down the stream, seldom using his paddle, and stopping only in the night for sleep. He told Mr Jefferson in Paris, fourteen years afterwards, that he took only two books with him, a Greek Testament, and Ovid, one of which he was deeply engaged in reading when his canoe approached Bellows's Falls, where he was suddenly roused by the noise of the waters rushing among the rocks through the narrow passage. The danger was imminent, as no boat could go down that fall without being instantly dashed in pieces. With difficulty he gained the shore in time to escape such a catastrophe, and through the kind assistance of the people in the neighborhood, who were astonished at the novelty of such a voyage down the Connecticut, his canoe was drawn by oxen around the fall and committed again to the water below.' pp. 16-18.

Pursuing his course down the river, he reached Hartford in safety, to the great astonishment of his friends, not less surprised by the abruptness of his return, than by the strange conveyance he had chosen.

Ledyard's next transition was to the study of theology. But discovering that he could not obtain regular admittance to the clerical profession, without a previous novitiate, for which neither his means of living nor his patience would suffice, he quitted this pursuit as hastily as he had adopted it; and in a few weeks, he reäppears in the character of a common sailor