AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



241 



from the last original piece Cowper ever 

 composed : 



THE CAST- AWAY. 



Obscurest night involved the sky ! 



TV Atlantic billows roared. 

 When such a destined wretch as I, 



Washed headlong from on board, 

 Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, 

 His floating home for ever left. 



He long survives, who lives an hour 



In ocean, self -upheld ; 

 And so long he, with unspent power, 



His destiny repelled ; 

 And ever, as the minutes flew. 



Entreated help, or cried, "Adieu !" 



No poet wept him ; but the page 



Of narrative sincere. 

 That tells his name, his worth, his age. 



Is wet with Anson's tear. 

 And tears by bards or heroes shed, 

 Alike immortalize the dead. 



I therefore purpose not, or dream, 



Descanting on his fate, 

 To give the melancholy theme 



A more enduring date ; 

 But misery still delights to trace 

 Its semblance in another's case. 



No voice divine the storm allayed. 



No light propitious shone ; 

 When, snatched from all effectual aid, 



We pei-ished, each alone ; 

 But I beneath a rougher sea. 

 And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he. 



Such a close to his sorrowful life is 

 verily one of the inscrutable mysteries 

 of Providence. God's judgments are 

 indeed a great deep ; and when, to 

 human sight, only clouds and darkness 

 are around about him, we are sure that 

 justice as well as judgment is the ever- 

 lasting foundation of his throne, and 

 that what we know not now, we shall 

 know hereafter. 



Blessed be the teachings of that Book 

 which enable us to follow the flight of 

 such a soul as that of Cowper's from all 

 the fetters and limitations of diseased 

 flesh and sense to the presence of Him 

 who brought life and immortality to 

 light ! 



Through life's vapors dimly seeing. 

 Who but longs for day to break ? 



Oh, this mystery of being ! 

 When, oh when ! shall we awake ? 



Oh the hour when this material 



Shall have vanished lifee a cloud- 

 When, amid the wide ethereal, 



All th' invisible shall crowd. 

 And the naked soul, surrounded 



With realities unknown, 

 Triumph in the view unbounded, 



Feel herself with God alone ! 



In that sudden, strange transition, 



By what new and finer sense 

 Shall she grasp the mighty vision. 



And receive its influence ? 

 Angels guard the new immortal 



Through the wonder-teeming space, 

 To the everlasting portal, 



To the spirits's resting place. 



Can I trust a fellow-being ? 



Can I trust an angel's care ? 

 Oh, thou merciful All-seeing, 



Beam around my spirit there ! 

 Jesus, blessed Mediator, 



Thou the airy path hast trod ! 

 Thou the Judge, the Consummator, 



Shepherd of the fold of God ! 



Blessed fold ! no foe can enter. 



And no friend departeth thence ; 

 Jesus is their Sun and Center ; 



And their Guide, Omnipotence. 

 Blessed ! for the Lamb shall feed them, 



All their tears shall wipe away — 

 To the living waters lead them, 



Till fruition's perfect day. 



Lo, it comes ! that day of wonder ; 



Louder chorals shake the skies ; 

 Hades' gates are burst asunder— 



See the new-clothed myriads rise ! 

 Thought, repress thy vain endeavor ; 



Here must reason prostrate fall ; 

 Oh th' ineffable for ever ! 



Oh th' eternal All in all ! 



— JOSIAH CONDEK. 



Dayton, Ohio, July 14, 1892. 



Pleurisy-Root as a Honey-Plant, 



JAMES HEDDON. 



In a recent number of the American 

 Bee Journal I recollect reading in a 

 report of some botanist to whom had 

 been sent a plant of "pleurisy" (he 

 called it), that said plant was a variety 

 of milk-weed, and tangled the bees as 

 they gathered the honey. I doubt that 

 the plant was pleurisy, and if so, why 

 should that splendid honey-plant here 

 possess no such tanglers ? Our pleurisy 

 surely has no such threads, and no one 

 ever saw a bee tangled nor bothered in 

 the least, in any way, when gathering 

 honey from that plant. 



Again this year it is yielding copiously 

 (it always does), and the best yields of 

 basswood never attract the bees from it. 

 It not only blooms with basswood, but 

 weeks afterward. It is too bad to have 

 such a false impression go among bee- 

 keepers regarding their best friend— this 

 best of all honey-plants — the pleurisy. 



While it is one of the milk-weed fam- 

 ily, it has milk only in the root, and 

 certainly has no " tanglers " — at least 

 the variety we have has not. It is a 

 perennial, hardy and tenacious, and in 

 no sense noxious. This plant, together 

 with sweet clover (both growing in 

 wasts places), is now keeping our two 

 large apiaries quite busy. 



Dowagiac, Mich., Aug. 4, 1892. 



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