Blackfoot news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1891-1902, 1901-07-06
The old woman and Her Bees.

Inc Oku woman anu hAtE pcc>s
Cornwall is dear old place to read
in; as full of legends as it is Of stones
and winds. How could such land
help having stories? It's memories
carry back so far. Why, when our
Declaration of Independence was only
an air castle. the Cornish tongue was
in the death-throes of great age. And
such memories, There stand the Lo-
gan stones. and the circles and cairns
and eromlechs of the Druids, TO recall
human sacrifices and awful impreca-
ton; there is the surf roaring on three
shores about many generations OF pir-
ates and smugglers and wrecks: there
are the mines tunneling far under sea,
and alive, of course, with COLLINS;
there are the rugged hills to speak in
no uncertain tongue of poverty and
toll; and there are the pleasant val
| legs, duchy lands since the famous
Black Prince was named their duke.
And then the winds. When they howl
| around the edge of great cliff or
| whistle from the black mouth of a
| mine or come thrashing the woods OF
| the valleys, superstition grips the
! stoutest heart; there is no room for
! doubts about the genii and that Xix,
/ and-delicious fascination of terror
+ the victim would not doubt IL he could.
But the stories are not all Of this
dread cast. and one Of the other kind
Is our bee story II begins with an old
. woman that lived in a wood She kept
hive OF bees, and though the little
creatures were as busy in fair weather
as any proverb could expect, they OBJ
jected seriously to the cold winds of
Cornwall and to its ruins. Indeed,
even folk that carry umbrellas COM
plain sometimes Of those rains. You
see, there's the breeze of the English
Channel whipping in her clouds, and
the Bristol Channel wind whipping in
more; so between them the little cor
nucopia-Cornubia, the Romans called
it's pretty we'll drenched. The stur-
dy good nature OF the Cornishmen
shows in their adage-no grumble. but
rather a jolly boast-that Cornwall
will bear shower every day of the
week, and two on Sunday" No won
der our old woman's bees fingered in
their hive occasionally. This did not
please the mistress She was not only
greedily fond of honey. but she had
one Of these unfortunate dispositions
that are made unhappy by other folks
holidays The bees were her only SER
wants, and rain or shine, storm or
calm, she wished them to be at work
II she could have managed it no doubt
i she would have given them some Sc
, we're whippings, but she had learned
the lesson of their sharp weapons, and
, on one occasion they had terribly
] frightened her by threatening to move
4 out; so she was extremely polite tc
their faces and kept her garden radian
t with their bestowed flowers. Only, II
, secret, she scolded, and puzzled he
e wits to break up those holidays.
3 Finally she recalled an old super
' stitfon, saying that the bread blesse'
}, for the church would quicken the liz
d even OF bee; eating 1t he would liv
9 longer, make better honey and NOR
: of IL. So she did not hesitate /,
!, make test, this greedy old creature
g There was no church for miles, bu
tWO vi Lhbtp LiAiipD a gght thOlt "ohh
come a priest to hold services In on
of the peasant houses, or, IL the hous
e were too small, he would stand in tn
= doorway while his flock gathered out
8, side. The next time she came bac
N from priest day one hand was hidde
lc under her shawl She opened IL o
Ie the little shelf before the hive. A col
u wind was blowing from the sea an
Sc the bees were all indoors: but as til
n old woman stepped back she chucklet
< there was humming, futterin
ne sweep and all the swarm lowered ovt
., the bit of stolen bread. Jubilant ST
lg went in to cook her supper. But bittt
ID chagrin was In store. When ST
Ell looked again, she found the bees worl
sr ing, working with all their little mig
is and humming happily, as IL they we
as singing psalm, but they were nj
e. making honey. not bit. She stoC
ne and stared. AS days went by 81
be wrung her hands, but she dared not Il
n terrupt the bees. And what do W
think they we're building? Why,
pretty little shrine of wax over tn
We bit Of bread Thus, even the bees
'e- Cornwall, so the legend runs, rebuI
lu greed and irreyerence.--E. e. Garnet