A writer in the _Quarterly Review_ gives the following good advice:--"Don't bore the cottager with long lectures; don't heap upon him many little books; but give him a hive of the best construction, show him the management, and then _buy his honey;_ _buy_ all he brings, even though you should have to give the surplus to some gardenless widow. But only buy such as comes from an improved hive--and you cannot easily be deceived in this,--one which preserves the bees and betters the honey. Then, _when you pay him_, you may read to him, if you will, the wise rules of old Butler," _exempli gratia_:-- "If thou wilt have the favour of thy bees that they sting thee not, thou must not be unchaste or uncleanly; thou must not come among them with a stinking breath, caused either through eating of leeks, onions, or garlic, or by any other means, the noisomeness whereof is corrected by a cup of beer; thou must not be given to surfeiting or drunkenness; thou must not come puffing or blowing unto them, neither hastily stir among them, nor violently defend thyself when they seem to threaten thee; but, softly moving by, thy hand before thy face, gently put them by; and, lastly, thou must be no stranger to them. In a word, (or rather, in five words,) be chaste, sweet, sober, quiet, familiar; so they will love thee and know thee from all others." Allusion having been made to the profit that may be gained by the judicious management of bees, we will illustrate that point by relating an anecdote of a certain French _curé_.[9] It is one which may be suggestive to some of the rural clergy in this country, who might almost as easily keep an apiary as they do a garden or an orchard. [Footnote 9: This story, in a disguised form, or--as the writer would say--an improved form, was quoted in the Cornhill Magazine some time ago. In transforming the bee-keeping cure into an English clergyman the effect was cleverly]