tinuance. Bees love the ripened fruit, too, and in
August and September will such themselves tipsy upon varieties such
as the sops-of-wine.

The interval between the blooming of the fruit-trees and that of the
clover and the raspberry is bridged over in many localities by the
honey locust. What a delightful summer murmur these trees send forth at
this season! I know nothing about the quality of the honey, but it
ought to keep well. But when the red raspberry blooms, the fountains of
plenty are unsealed indeed; what a commotion about the hives then,
especially in localities where it is extensively cultivated, as in
places along the Hudson! The delicate white clover, which begins to
bloom about the same time, is neglected; even honey itself is passed by
for this modest, colorless, all but odorless flower. A field of these
berries in June sends forth a continuous murmur like that of an
enormous hive. The honey is not so white as that obtained from clover,
but it is easier gathered; it is in shallow cups, while that of the
clover is in deep tubes. The bees are up and at it before sunrise, and
it takes a brisk shower to drive them in. But the clover blooms later
and blooms everywhere, and is the staple source of supply of the finest
quality of honey. The red clover yields up its stores only to the
longer proboscis of the bumblebee, else the bee pasturage of our
agricultural districts would be unequaled. I do not know from what the
famous honey of Chamouni in the Alps is made, but it can hardly surpass
our best products. The snow-white honey of Anatolia in Asiatic Turkey,
which is regularly sent to Constantinople for the use of the grand
seignior and the ladies of his seraglio, is obtained from the cotton
plant, which makes me think that the white clover does not flourish
there. The white clover is indigenous with us; its seeds seem latent in
the ground, and the application of certain stimulants to the soil, such
as wood ashes, causes them to germinate and spring up.

The rose, with all its beauty and perfume, yields no honey to the bee,
unless the wild species be sought by the bumblebee.

Among the humbler plants let me not forget the dandelion that so early
dots the sunny slopes, and upon which the bee languidly grazes,
wallowing to his knees in the golden but not over-succulent pasturage.
From the blooming rye and wheat the bee gathers pollen, also from the
obscure blossoms of Indian corn. Among weeds, catnip is the grea