10-: 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



April 



dation. Hg seums "to faiicy'that he can 

 hector- the lady into an ardent affection 

 for himself and is usually successful in so 

 doing. 



But this is not the ideal lovenialving. 

 We imagine that there should bo tender 

 reverence on the man's part, for, as Thack- 

 eray says: 'Men serve women kneeling. 

 When they get on their feet, they walk 

 away." The lover who does not believe 

 his sweetheart an angel has a want of 

 idealism that will make marriage appear 

 to him a very dull, sordid thing, lacking 

 that rosy glow with which illusion irradi- 

 ates the commonplaces. 



The walk of Ruth Pinch and John 

 Westlock in the Temple garden is usually 

 ranked among the famous love scenes of 

 fiction, and there is another garden epi- 

 sode — that between Clive and Ethel New- 

 come — which is as sincere in sentiment 

 and touched by a far finer literary art. It 

 is not always easy for a novelist to present 

 to the mind the charming childishness of 

 lovers without making them seem silly 

 and mawkish, but this Charles Reade in 

 "Peg Woffington and Christie Johnstone" 

 has succeeded in doing. There are pas- 

 sages in the courtship of Victor Hugo's 

 Marius and Cosette which have a wonder- 

 ful grace and prettiness and likewise an 

 artlessness that does not always belong to 

 lovemaking in French fiction. 



The figures of Tito and Roraola, when 

 the dark and bright curls mingle in their 

 first embrace, stand out with a colorful 

 picturesqueness against the ricli back- 

 ground of old romance which is wanting 

 in modern tales, but though more impress- 

 ive, in a certain sense, these old world 

 lovers are not more actual than Clym Yeo- 

 bright and Eustacia Vye as they walk 

 hand in hand through the furze and fern 

 of Egdon heath. Still more vivid is the 

 aurora militaris which the sword play of 

 Sergeant Troy created about Bathsheba 

 Everdeue, ending with that sudden kiss 

 which startled her rebel heart awake. 



Of late years the river scene in "Rich- 

 ard Fcverel" has often been mentioned as 

 an example of all that is idyllic, but any 

 writer who is stirred to emulation will 

 find it a difficult model. It is so easy to 

 work one's self up into the ejaculatory 

 mood. Given plenty of ink and paper, 

 there is no reason why one should not 

 continue indeiinitely to reel oS such sen- 

 tences as: "Pipe, happy sheep boy, Love. 

 Irradiated angels, unfold your winds and 

 lift your voices. Pipe, happy love, pipe 

 on to these dear innocents." 



A real idyl, not less simple than poetic, 

 is to bo found in Cable's "John March, 

 Southerner." The time is spring — the 

 tardy spring of the north — and the man 

 and maid are straying through the green- 



ing mcaaows anci copses apart, ana eacn 

 one dreaming of the other's nearness. The 

 girl hears afar the springtime cry of the 

 the quail, "two clear glad notes of na- 

 ture's voice, " and mimics it in memory of 

 her days of childhood. The youth, who 

 had idly uttered the note, fancies himself 

 answered by a bird, and so they go on 

 calling and recalling, following the sound 

 until they come face to face startled and 

 wondering, all their unconfessed love 

 shining in their eyes. — New Orleans 

 Times-Democrat. 



Tennyson at Home. 



Tennyson was never "at home" except 

 to such cherished friends as his neighbor, 

 che late Professor Tyndall. Access to his 

 study was conseqtiently denied to nearly 

 all callers, and even the presence of those 

 who obtained the privilege of entree there 

 was sometimes irksome to the poet, whose 

 part in the conversation usually consisted 

 of monosyllables, as I remember to have 

 once' happened during my stay, but he 

 could be very gracious to callers when in 

 the mood. On the other hand. Sir Edwin 

 Arnold, in -ois "Reminiscences" of the 

 poet, says, ".Albeit you saw 'Private road' 

 painted on the first rod of his domain and 

 'Private frrouiuls' inscribed upon the first 

 boundary of his fence, he did not like coun- 

 try people to pass him on the road without 

 recognizing him. "—Gentleman's Maga- 

 zine. 



Good Horse Sense In Burros. 



The Mexican burros ascertain where 

 to dig for water by closely observing 

 the surface of the ground. We had 

 found in an arroyo a sufficient quantity 

 of water to make coffee when we ob- 

 served three burros searching for water. 

 They passed several damp places, esam- 

 ing the ground closely, when the leader 

 halted near tis and commenced to paw a 

 hole in the dry, hot sand with his right 

 forefoot. After awhile he used his left 

 forefoot. Having dug a hole something 

 over a foot in depth, he backed out and 

 watched it intently. To our surprise, it 

 soon commenced to fill with water. Then 

 he advanced and took a drink and step 

 ped aside, inviting, I think, the others 

 to take a drink. At all events they 

 promptly did so and then went away, 

 when we got down and took a drink 

 from their well. The water was cool 

 and refreshing — much better, in fact, 

 than we had found for many a day. 

 There is no witchcraft about the Mex- 

 ican burros, but they have good horse 

 sense. — Pittsburg Dispatch. 



