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favorite. It lasts nearly the whole season and yields richly. It could
no doubt be profitably cultivated in some localities, and catnip honey
would be a novelty in the market. It would probably partake of the
aromatic properties of the plant from which it was derived.

Among your stores of honey gathered before midsummer you may chance
upon a card, or mayhap only a square inch or two of comb, in which the
liquid is as transparent as water, of a delicious quality, with a
slight flavor of mint. This is the product of the linden or basswood,
of all the trees in our forest the one most beloved by the bees.
Melissa, the goddess of honey, has placed her seal upon this tree. The
wild swarms in the woods frequently reap a choice harvest from it. I
have seen a mountain-side thickly studded with it, its straight, tall,
smooth, light gray shaft carrying its deep green crown far aloft, like
the tulip-tree or the maple.

In some of the Northwestern States there are large forests of it, and
the amount of honey reported stored by strong swarms in this section
during the time the tree is in bloom is quite incredible. As a shade
and ornamental tree the linden is fully equal to the maple, and, if it
were as extensively planted and cared for, our supplies of virgin honey
would be greatly increased. The famous honey of Lithuania in Russia is
the product of the linden.

It is a homely old stanza current among bee folk that

"A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
But a swarm in July
Is not worth a fly."

A swarm in May is indeed a treasure; it is, like an April baby, sure to
thrive, and will very likely itself send out a swarm a month or two
later: but a swarm in July is not to be despised; it will store no
clover or linden honey for the "grand seignior and the ladies of his
seraglio," but plenty of the rank and wholesome poor man's nectar, the
sun-tanned product of the plebeian buckwheat. Buckwheat honey is the
black sheep in this white flock, but there is spirit and character in
it. It lays hold of the taste in no equivocal manner, especially when
at a winter breakfast it meets its fellow, the russet buckwheat cake.
Bread with honey to cover it from the same stalk is double good
fortune. It is not black, either, but nut-brown, and belongs to the
same class of goods as Herrick's

"Nut-brown mirth and russet wit."

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