7^^. 



Dr. C. C. MILLER, MARENGO, ILL. 



The Nestor of American Bee-Keeping. 



E^SSSS 



"With the chance 

 To get more happiness out of each day so long as 

 my days may last; and 



With the chance 

 To have them last longer than in any other busi- 

 ness. 

 Why shouldn't I be a bee-keeper:" 



— Dr. MiUer, in American Bee Journal, fagc 3 •. 



cniiEjL^ 



I 



Dedicated to Dr. C. C. Miller, on his 80th Birthday, 





»l»^*/-v' A.ii^^«^*^ 



UNE I 



1911 ■ 



ADOWN THE WESTERN SLOPE 



BY EUGEXE SECOR. 



The sun hangs low; 



Evening is coming on: 

 But burnished clouds reflect a mellow glow, 



Portending fairer skies anon. 



I hear a wood-thrush sing 

 His evening strain — 

 As gentle as a summer rain. 

 My soul by faith takes wing 

 To that Home-Land 

 Where harp th' angelic band 

 In God's own fane. 



So doth a sunny spirit 

 Bless, like the thrush, 



That cheers from morn till twiliglit's hush; — 

 It blesses men who bend with cares that crush. 



With never a soul to fear it. 



IV 



Not lapse of years, but carking cares 



Make men grow old. 



A smile, a kindly eye, 



A cheery word, a soft reply, 



Are worth a pot of gold. 

 Along the road with us one fares 



With a heart so light — 



A life so clean and white — 

 Old Father Time is mollified, 

 His rusty scythe hangs by his side. 



We hope he will his stroke withhold 



Until our friend is REALLY OLD. 



J-'orcil City, foiva. 



Where Dwells Narengo's Happy Sage. 



