But readers of this magazine, who happen to reside abroad, might come across other kinds of honey-bees, wild perhaps, but to which, if put in hives, all the foregoing remarks would more or less apply. Several of the foreign races of the honey-bee have been tried in this country and have been found to do very well. One of these, the Italian bee, is quite naturalised, and has spread so extensively over the country that it is hard to find a colony of pure English bees now, most of our bees being a cross between the English and the Italian races. Italian bees may be readily recognised by the pale semi-transparent, orange-yellow markings on the tail, true English bees being entirely black all over. The Italian bees are more prolific than the English race and they are easier to handle because they remain quietly on their combs when the hive is opened. A good cross between the English and Italian races is generally acknowledged to be the best honey-bee for all purposes in this country, but it has acquired a name for being rather bad-tempered. Books that will be helpful to those who are “going in” for bee-keeping are _The British Beekeeper’s Guide Book_ (paper, 1s. 6d.), and _Modern Bee-keeping_ (6d.), published by the British Bee-keepers’ Association. Finally, the beginner must not be disheartened by a few difficulties and failures. They should, on the contrary, spur on to greater efforts in seeking to avoid them in the future, for it is chiefly by first failures that experience, that most important factor in every successful pursuit, is gained. Persistent effort will bring its reward, and the bees will soon become a greater source of interest than we ever thought could be possible. GIRLS AS I HAVE KNOWN THEM. BY ELSA D’ESTERRE-KEELING, Author of “Old Maids and Young.” PART IX. THE TALL GIRL AND THE SMALL GIRL. [Illustration: EXTREMES MEET AND KISS] “Often the cockloft is empty in those whom Nature has built many storeys high,” says quaint old Fuller. “Long and lazy,” says the proverb. “Divinely tall,” says Tennyson. Now in thought go over the tall girls whom you have known. Perhaps they were not unlike the tall girls known to me. Cicely—by herself called Thithily—is one of these. She has a little head atop of a long body, and when she laughs, which she does much, displays to view two rows of foolishly small teeth. Cicely laughs to keep herself from crying, for she has a very hard time of it. _Poor?_ No. She has everything that money can buy, but lacks a thing that money cannot buy. Muriel is the poor long girl known to me. Muriel’s wail is, _There is so much of me to dress_. When last I saw Muriel, her boots were down at heel, and to shamefacedness she added—shamefootedness. Dearest to me of long girls is one Dorothy, big and beautiful and kind, knowing some things—not many—and wanting to know more. Said Dorothy one day— “Is there not such a word as ‘magnanimosity’ for ‘kindness’?”