GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



the Darwinian school — do not the spring 

 violets, with their galaxy of insect friends, 

 produce more seed than their summer sis- 

 ters? 



On page 53, Jan. 15, Mr. Lovell gives 

 the prismatic colors as six. Does he not 

 omit a seventh — indigo ? 



A word now about Haeckel, page 237, 

 April 15. Ernst Haeckel is described by- 

 Mr. Lovell as "one of the most eminent 

 of living biologists." This, I feel, is an 

 overgenerous assessment of the scientific 

 worth of the Jena biologist. First and 

 foremost, Haeckel as an atheist bases his 

 scientific investigations on a false founda- 

 tion, and his views, consequently, can be 

 taken only cum grano salis by Christians. 

 A man who speaks of the fortuitous con- 

 course of atoms, who does not postulate 

 an internal law and a master hand to direct 

 the destinies of all created matter, hut, on 

 the contrary, assumes the existence of ran- 

 dom variation in this world of order, is not 

 only a strange anomaly, but, in my ooin- 

 ion, sacrifices all his right to the nauK- r C 

 a true scientist. The leading scientists o' 

 to-day reject Haeckel. In his lectures on 

 the "Problem of Man," 1908, he dragged 

 his scientific honor in the mire of false- 

 hood, and, clothed in this robe of scorn, 

 he can be regarded in no other light than 

 that of a common forger. Haeckel's bold- 

 ness made Darwin tremble; but .Haeckel's 

 boldness led an eminent scientist, Doctor 

 Brass, to probe his allegedly scientific dis- 

 coveries, with the result that he openly ac- 

 cused him of forging certain plates, and, 

 moreover, drew from him the admission 

 that eight per cent of his drawings were 

 falsified. Here, then, is the evolutionist at 

 large, claiming to be a scientist, and ob- 

 taining the much sought missing link by 

 overt foi'gery! 



And now let me conclude with a word 

 Avith friend Crane, whose Siftings are a 

 never ending source of pleasure and in- 

 formation to me. With him I cordially 

 appreciate Mr. Lovell's erudite articles, 

 page 153, March 15; but he introduces a 

 doctrinal point on which I must beg to 

 differ. It seems rather out of the way 

 to speak of the Man-God as learning any 

 thing from the hills and valleys, flowers, 

 etc. If I mistake not, he was invested 

 with all human science, and had naught to 

 learn from his own eireatures. And did he 

 command us to consider the lilies? His 

 words were, of course, addressed to the peo- 

 ple about him, and even then could hardly 

 have referred to constant meditation on 

 these things, since he was only illustrating 

 the jn'ovidence of God. If he cared for 



the lilies a fortiori, man's wants would not 

 be neglected. In any case, it is no more 

 binding to-day than the laws relative to 

 ablutions, purifications, and circumcision 

 of the old dispensation; and who, on re- 

 flection, will say it is "as much a command" 

 as to say, for instance, "Thou shalt not 

 steal"? Friend Crane also seems to under- 

 stand the lily of our modern flowers; but 

 it is really the anemone. In the Scrip- 

 tural allusions the lily grew in the valley 

 among thorns, in rivers, and in jDlaces where 

 the shepherds led their flocks — in fact, al- 

 most everywhere, since the multiplication of 

 the Jews is likened to it. On the occasion 

 in question, Christ evidently pointed to 

 some of them; and they must have been 

 numerous or he would not have used the 

 illustration. If the white lily is under- 

 stood, Holy Scripture can not be explained, 

 since it is known only a little in the north 

 of Palestine, and even there it requires to 

 be cultivated. It does not gi'ow among 

 rivers, etc., nor can the lips (as in the 

 Canticles) be compared to it. The anem- 

 one, on the other hand, answers all the 

 leseriptions. and is app'ropriate to all 

 tc:-ts. 



Napier, Hawkes Bay, N. Z., July 14. 



Bee Thoughts 



The sun is up, the clouds are gray, 



And promise now a pleasant day; 



The earth is fresh and fair and bright. 



And clover-fields are red and white. 



The birds are on the wing, and we 



Will go into the fields and see 



If nectar in the flowers is found — 



Enjoy the beauty all around. 



What pleasure rare, what pure delight, 



To wing the air this morning bright! 



To leave the crowded hive, and fly 



Above the earth, beneath the sky ! 



Now over pastures, flocks, and herds. 



And meadows full of singing birds, 



Past worthless flowers and rocks and rills, 



By waving grain and wood-clad hills. 



To scent the fragrant clover-fields. 



And sip the sweet each floret yields. 



Or rest beneath the shade, and sup 



Prom many a linden's nectar-cup. 



Nor yet forget, the while we roam, 



To gather bread for babes at home. 



Thrice blessed home ! O mother ! queen ! 



No bee like you was ever seen. 



When we return, and flight is o'er, 



Two pollen loaves, with nectar store. 



We bring back to our home, and give, 



And know the joy it is to live. 



Our lives are brief, our days are few ; 



We pass away like morning dew; 



And so we work with all our might — 



Make play of work, for that is right. 



And thus, by turning work to play. 



We make the most of life each day. 



Oh what a charming world is this, 



When work is play and sweetest bliss! 



J. E. Crane. 



