PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK 



AT $1.00 PER ANNUM, 



35tli Year. 



CHIC AGO, ILL., MAY 30, 1895. 



No. 22. 



Tlie Iliini of tlie Uees in Spring 



BY P. D. WALLACE. 



There is nothing so dear 



To the bee-keeper's ear 

 As the hum of the bees in the spring, 



As they come forth at dawn, 



From their hives in the lawn, 

 And their songs of industry sing. 



They fly over vales, 



Over hills and o'er dales. 

 And work through the sun shining hours; 



They cull and collect, 



From each blossom perfect. 

 The delicious nectar of flowers; 



And they store it away 



For a cold, rainy day, 

 In curious, hexagonal cells — 



Not round, nor yet square — 



You may think that is queer — 

 They are like little, beautiful wells. 



With the cells they make combs, 



In their sweet little homes. 

 That are pure and as white as the snow ; 



And seal them up tight, 



To exclude air and light. 

 And finish them all as they go. 



No artist can hope, 



For ever to cope 

 With this cute little artist, the bee ; 



For her work is so good, 



And the sweetest of food. 

 And a beautiful picture to see. 



It is a surprise 



To both palate and eyes. 

 And there's little doubt that she can 



Make an artistic view. 



That is perfect and true. 

 That delights the fine senses of man. 



Now let this suffice — 



It's exquisitely nice — 

 The extract of gay golden-rods, 



And other sweet flowers. 



Fresh from the showers — 

 It is fit for the fairies and gods. 



McGrew, Wis. 



Xlie Kliie and tUe Giray. 



When Should the Nation Forget? 



Almeda E. Wight. 



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Copyright, 1895, bv Robl. C. Marquis. 



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Ob, when should the na - tion for - get The val - or - ous deeds of lier sons? 

 If mor - tal, when men-aced by death, Stands trem-bling be - fore the dread foe, 

 As long as a drop of life's wine In veins of the na - tion re - main, 



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Oh, when should she cea.se to re-gret The price thro' which vie- try was won? 

 And friend - ly form, com-ing be-tween, Re - ceiv -eth death's ter - ri - ble blow. 

 Re-mem-brance should brighten the tombs, Where the forms of her mar-tyrs were lain. 



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The years are fast fly - ing a - way, As ev - er the 



If ev - er that mor - tal for - gets, Or ceas - es to 



May she show by her trib - ute of flow'rs, Tho' years in - to 



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years have done; 

 rev-'rence his name, 

 a - ges should run. 



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Ah, when 

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should the na - tion for - get The val - or - ous deeds of her sous? 



- i- tude base," we would say, "De - serv - ing of in - fi - nite shame." 



tion cau uev - er for - get The val - or - ous deeds of her sous! 



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Then cov - er them o - ver with flow'rs, Those no - ble de - fend -ers of onrs; 



Scatter your flowers alike to-day. 

 Over the graves of the blue and gray. 

 Time has healed all the Nation's scars. 

 Peace has hushed all the noise of wars, 

 And North and South, and East and West. 

 There beats but one heart in the Nation's 



breast; 

 The grass is green, and the flowers bloom 

 Alike upon soldier and sailor's tomb ; 

 So scatter your flowers alike to-day. 

 Over the graves of the blue and gray. 



We'll bur - y them deep 'neath the bow'ts, Those broth-ers and sons of ours. 



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