368 



THE BEE-KEEPERS' REVIEW. 



tive wildness, lifting their beautiful, 

 plume-like tops 150 feet towards the 

 heavens." After leaving" the cars I 

 walked five miles along a logging road, 

 lugging my big camera with me, ate 

 with the hands at their shanty (and it 

 was pretty good fare, too), slept with 

 the "boss" in his bunk, and the next 

 morning started through the woods for 

 a small lake, iibout two iniles away. 



the clear water — so clear that I could 

 see the bottom at a depth that made me 

 feel uncomfortable to think that I was 

 over such deep water. On all sides 

 towered the massive walls of dark green 

 pines. The morning sun was driving 

 away the wreaths of white mist that 

 still lingered in their tops. Beautiful 

 water lilies, white and yellow, in all 

 their puritj' and freshness, floated in 



HOME OF S. L). CHAPMAN, Maiuelona, Mich. 



Years ago Mr. Chaprran had fine crops of honey from basswood. When this was hunbered off, 

 there was .scarcely anything left to produce honey, as the country was nearly all forest, and he seri- 

 ouslj' contemplated abandoning bee culture. Finally lumbermen began cutting off the hard timber, 

 and this left the laud so nearly unoccupied that red raspberries sprang up and changed the location 

 to one of the best for bee keeping. 



along the banks of which the men told 

 me I would find the finest growth of 

 pine. It had rained during the night, 

 and my trousers and shoes were wet 

 through long before I reached the lake 

 — but an enthusiast does not stop for 

 such trifles as that. I loosed the boat 

 fastened to a stake, and floated out over 



great profusion on the surface of the 

 water. As I roimded a little point, a 

 red deer, standing knee-deep in water, 

 eating lily pads, gave one frightened 

 look, three magnificent bounds, and dis- 

 appeared in the pines. Over all was a 

 stillness that could almost be felt. It 

 seemed as tliough I had never been 



