460 



AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



A Song of Long Ago. 



JAMES W. RILEY. 



A song of long ago. 

 Sing it lightly— sing it low- 

 Sing it softly— like the lisping of the lips we 



used to know 

 When our baby laughter spilled 

 From the hearts forever filled 

 With a music sweet as a robin ever trilled ! 



Let the sumer fragrant breeze, 

 And the leaves <>f locust trees, 

 And the apple buds and blossoms, and the 



wings of honey-bees, 

 All palpitate with glee, 

 Till the happy harmony 

 Brings back each childish joy to you and me. 



Let the eyes of fancy turn 



Where the tumbled pippins burn 



Like embers in the orchard's lap of tousled 



grass and fern ; 

 And let the wayward wind, 

 Still singing, plod behind 

 The cider press— the good old-fashioned kind ! 



Blend in the song the moan 



Of the dove that grieves alone. 



And the wild whirr of the locust and the 



bumble's drowsy drone ; 

 And the low of cows that call 

 Through the pasture bars when all 

 The landscape fades away at evenfall. 



Then, far away and clear. 



Through the dusky atmosphere, 



Let the wailing of the kildees be the only 



sound you hear. 

 Oh, sweet and sad and low 

 As the memory may know 

 Is the glad, pathetic song of long ago ! 



—Selected. 



The New England Maga- 

 zine for October is specially attractive 

 for the quantity and quality of its poetry. 

 Everett S. Hubbard contributes a fine 

 Columbus poem, " The Three Ships," 

 which has the place of honor in the 

 number. Charles Edwin Markham, the 

 Californian poet, is represented by a poem 

 in his best vein, "A Harvest Song." 

 Madison Cawein, of Kentucky, is some- 

 what metaphysical in "The Ordeal." 

 James B. Kenyon contributes a pretty 

 fancy, "The South Wind." St. George 

 Best is topical with "Mars." Stuart 

 Sterne, a New York poet, in "Vespers" 

 and "Matins," gives us true poetry and 

 sentiment. All these poets are of the 

 younger generation, and are scattered 

 throughout the Union, so that it cannot 

 be said that the New England is bound 

 by local prejudices, or closes its columns 

 to the youger singers. And poetry is 

 undoubtedly still read, the croakers to 

 the contrary notwithstanding. 



CONDUCTED BY 



Floyd. Hunt Co., Tex. 

 Hot in Texas. 



It was 90° in the shade here yester- 

 day and day before. Bees are booming. 

 We are getting a good honey-flow now — 

 Sept. 28th. 



A Correction. 



The second line of the first column, on 

 page 397, should read thus : " You see 

 this middle frame on her side is," etc., 

 instead of the way it was printed. 



A Queen-Rearing' Dialogue. 



(Concluded from page 428.) 



I see your nuclei are tolerably strong, 

 too. How do you keep them that way? 



Well, Charles, you see I let my queens 

 lay a frame or two of brood before 

 shipping them, if I am not crowded too 

 much with orders. But, if I can't do 

 this, and I am compelled to ship as soon 

 as they begin to lay, I bring frames of 

 brood from other yards and keep them 

 up, and I tell you it is a good thing to 

 have a yard with laying queens all the 

 time to draw brood from in this queen 

 business. 



" What do you do when you have 

 more cells than you have nuclei to take 

 them?" 



Well, I always have a few strong, 

 queenless colonies in some of my yards, 

 and I draw frames of brood and bees 

 enough from them to take all my sur- 

 plus cells, which increases my number of 

 nuclei a little every once in a while. 



"I see you do not introduce virgins 

 much." 



No, I don't fool any time away intro- 

 ducing virgins, for I find that a virgin is 

 nearly always a few days longer in be- 



