266 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



July 



friends of ours, and they'will, in time, con- 

 tribute to our comfort and convenience. 



WHITEWOOD [Liriodendron Tulip- 

 ifera). This is often called the tulip tree, I 

 suppose from its tulip shaped flowers. 



After I had written the above, I concluded 

 I did not know very much about the white- 

 wood, especially the blossoms, and as I had 

 directed our engraver to copy engravings of 



the ROCKY MOUNTAIN BEE PLANT, the 



mountain sage, and teasel, from Cook's 

 Manual, I concluded I would get my obser- 

 vations and pictures this time, from nature ; 

 and so I deserted my type writer and travel- 

 ed off into the woods. At length,! found a 



tree, but there were only buds to be seen, 

 not blossoms. It must be too early in the 

 season ; but hark ! whence come those 

 sounds of humming-birds, and humming 

 bees? Whence, too, comes that rare and ex- 

 quisite perfume? I looked higher, and away 

 in the misty top of the tree, I thought I dis- 

 cerned, by the light of the setting sun, mul- 

 titudes of bees flitting about. Oh that I were 

 just up there ! I looked at the rough trunk 

 of tbe tree, and meditated that I was a boy 

 no longer, but a man of 40, or would be in a 

 few months more. I might get up to that 

 first limb, — after a good deal of kicking and 

 puffing, I got up there. The next was a 

 harder pull yet, but soon the limbs were 



LEAF, BUD, AND BLOSSOM OF THE WHITEWOOD, OR TULIP TREE. 



thicker, and finally, I began to crawl up- 

 ward with about as much ease as our year 

 and a half old baby goes up stairs, whenever 

 she can elude maternal vigilance. Up, up, 

 I went, until, on looking down, I really be- 

 gan to wonder what that blue eyed baby and 

 her mamma would do, should my clumsy 

 boots slip, or a dead limb break unexpected- 

 ly. Now I was in the very summit of the 

 tree, and Oh, what a wonderful beauty I saw 

 in those tulip shaped blossoms, that peeped 

 from the glossy green foliage all about me ! 

 No wonder there was a humming. Bumble- 

 bees, gaudy colored wasps, yellow Italians, 

 and last, but not least, beautifully plumaged 

 humming-birds, were all rejoicing in a field 

 of sweets. Every now and then, one of the 

 latter paused before my very face, and, as 

 he swung pendulously in mid air, winked 

 his bright little eyes, as much as to say, 

 "Why, what on earth can you be doing away 

 up here in our domain?" 



I picked off the great orange colored, mot- 

 tled blossoms, and looked for the honey. I 

 presume it was the wrong time of day to ex- 

 pect much, but the inside of those large pet- 

 als, seemed to be distilling a dark kind of 

 dew, that the birds and insects were licking 

 off. It tasted to me more like molasses than 

 honey. In the above cut our engraver has 

 tried to show you what I saw in the tree top. 



As the sun had gone down, I commenced 

 in rather an undignified way to follow suit, 

 and after resting a little, limped home. 

 Although I was stiff and sore, I carried an 

 armful of whitewood blossoms to surprise 

 the good folks who, probably, had never 

 dreamed of the beauties to be seen only in 

 the tree tops. 



Our friends in the South have a great deal 

 to say about what they call "poplar honey"; 

 and, if I am correct, the poplar is the same 

 tree which we call whitewood. It blossoms 

 with them in April and May. I know what 



