It was a long time in the doing, he told me, as we sauntered among the busy hives, speaking with a delightful Sussex intonation already veneered upon his Cockney brogue—a long and weary and scraping time. There was money to be saved, the capital needed for the enterprise; and this was no easy matter out of a total family income of forty shillings a week. But at last it was done, and well done. There came a day when the three of them shook the dust of Nunhead from their feet, and took over possession of the little tumbledown cottage with its bare half-acre of neglected ground. Well, those were hard times to begin with—he said, with an unaccountable relish in the recollection;—but now, look how all was changed! He waved a triumphant, proudly proprietary arm around him. The cottage was sound and well furnished throughout. The three or four bought hives, with which he had started his business, had multiplied into sixty or seventy, all made by his own hands. Where had he got the bees? Well, that threepenny book had taught him a secret—the art of bee-driving. Nearly all the cottagers for miles round were in the habit of sulphuring their bees to get at the honey. The first autumn, and every autumn since then, he had gone to his neighbours and told them he would take the bees out of the hives for them, and leave them all the combs and a good trink-geld into the bargain, if they would let him have the bees for his trouble. And they were more than willing. And thus he had gradually built up his little principality of hives.

But, the profit of the thing? This, indeed, was nothing much to boast of. He sold all the honey and wax he got, sending it away, for the most part, by post, and extending the circle of his custom by little and little with every year. Taking the bad years with the good, he had made a net return of £2 for every hive; in bumper-seasons it was always much more. It was not a great deal, but there were only three of them, and their wants were simple. Their greatest needs—fresh air, peace, and quiet, the healthful life of the country—these were to be had for nothing at all. And as for clothes—you never know, until you give over trying to keep up appearances, how very little appearances count in the world. At any rate, for them, the whole thing was a complete success. There were men round about that country-side who farmed whole provinces, and still grumbled; but here was he, getting peace and plenty from half an acre; and as for the girls, they did nothing but laugh and sing all day long.

The Lore of the Honey-Bee — Part 137