This fairly off. Sometimes one's head will swim following it, and often one's eyes are dazzled by the sun. bee gradually drifts down the hill, then strikes away toward a farmhouse half a mile away, where I know bees are kept. Then we try another and another; and the third bee, much to our satisfaction, goes straight toward the woods. The bee is soon back, and more with it, for we have touched the box here and there with the cork of a bottle of anise oil, and this fragrant oil will attract bees half a mile or more. When no flowers can be found, this is the quickest way to obtain a bee. By following these bees we easily find the bee tree. It is a hemlock that stands in a niche in a wall of hoary, moss-covered rocks. The bees enter a small hole at the root. The cavity occupied by the bees is about three and a half feet long and eight or ten inches in diameter. With an ax we cut away one side of the tree and lay bare its curiously wrought heart of gold. It is a most pleasing sight. What winding ways the bees have through their palace! What blocks and great masses of snow-white comb there are! Where it is sealed up, presenting a slightly dented, uneven surface, it looks like some precious ore. When we leave the tree, and carry a large pailful of the comb out of the woods, it seems still more like ore. THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS1 Whither away, Robin, Is it through envy of the maple leaf, Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast, The summer days were long, yet all too brief Whither away, Bluebird, The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy wing, Warbler, why speed thy southern flight? ah, why Whither away, Swallow, Canst thou no longer tarry in the North, Here, where our roof so well hath screened thy nest? Wilt thou - as if thou human wert - go forth Edmund Clarence Stedman, an American poet (1833-1908). THE EAGLE AND THE SWAN1 Imagine yourself, on a day early in November, floating slowly down the Mississippi River. The near approach of winter brings millions of water fowl on whistling wings from the countries of the North to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The eagle is seen perched on the highest branch of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. His glistening but pitiless eye looks over water and land, and sees objects afar off. He listens to every sound that comes to his quick ear, glancing now and then to the earth beneath, lest the light tread of the rabbit may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the other side of the river, and now and then warns him by a cry to continue patient. At this well-known call he partly opens his broad wings and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a madman. Ducks and many smaller water fowl are seen passing rapidly towards the South; but the eagle heeds them not they are for the time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild, trumpet-like sound of a distant swan is heard. The eagle suddenly shakes his body, raises his wings, and makes ready for flight. A shriek from his mate comes across the stream, for she is fully as watchful as he. 1 By J. J. Audubon, a famous American ornithologist (1780-1851). The snow-white bird is now in sight; her long neck is stretched forward; her eyes are as watchful as those of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of her body. Nearer and nearer she comes. The eagle has marked her for his prey. As the swan is about to pass the dreaded pair, the eagle starts from his perch with an awful scream. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timid bird, which now, in agony and despair, seeks to escape the grasp of his cruel talons. She would plunge into the stream did not the eagle force her to remain in the air by striking at her from beneath. The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. She has already become much weakened. She is about to gasp her last breath, when the eagle strikes with his talons the under side of her wing and forces the dying bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore. The eagle's mate has watched every movement that he has made, and if she did not assist him in capturing the swan, it was because she felt sure that his power and courage were quite enough for the deed. She now sails to the spot where he is waiting for her, and both together turn the breast of the luckless swan upward and gorge themselves with gore. WORD STUDY: glistening, shriek, talons, gorge, climate. |