618 



AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



Sept. 26, 1901. 



tesque — last rose of summer forbidding the pips to bloom. 

 Page 527. 



WRITING Xr THINGS WHILE FRESH IN JIIND. 



I also incline to "Amen " the plan of writing up things 

 while they are fresh in the mind. Writer needs the help most 

 even if it was a case of writer versus reader, which it isn't 

 exactly. Reader's ears have been dug open by his experi- 

 ences, and will have wax in them ten months hence. Also, if 

 the would-be writer forgets a thing before it gets in print 

 there is no back number to go to for it. Page 531. 



^ The Home Circle. ^ 



Conducted bu Prof. ft. J. Cook, Claremont, Calif. 



THE TABLE. 



"Ah! but wasn't that an elegant table?" That was my 

 daughter's query. We had' just broken doughnuts with a 

 good friend — one of those splendid women who is ever dispen- 

 sing cheer and comfort. And well did she ask. First, the 

 linen was so entirely immaculate and of such proportions that 

 It just seemed made for that special table. Each marginal 

 inch seemed impressed by gravity just as strongly as every 

 other, for none had reached down nearer the floor than had 

 any other. And the table per se — what a piece of art I The 

 plates with accompaniments, each was like a well arranged 

 bouquet. Nothing was crowded, yet there was no wide desert 

 area, and we were all glad that room was found for a single 

 lovely spray of wild roses. These were sweet as they were 

 chaste and beautiful. The whole combination was so pleas- 

 ing to the eye, that one could be content to sit and gaze. 



Of course we all like good things to eat. Do we all appre- 

 ciate as we may, and ought, the utility of beauty about and 

 on the table ? 



I know a dear old farmer who would never sit at the 

 table, nor would any of the children, without collar, clean 

 coat and necktie. The children grew up simply to respect and 

 copy that parent. The mother rarely omitted the Dowers. 

 She appreciated the courtesy of the loving, thoughtful hus- 

 band. Flowers of discord could never grow about that table. 

 Other better flowers had preoccupied the territory. 



Do we all know and realize what a prominent part appear- 

 ance— inviting viands — play in the work of digestion ? Let 

 the table look well, the eatables offered savory, so that one loves 

 to sit and linger, because, simply, of the environs, and the 

 digestive organism laughs at its work, and feels it no burden. 

 Ought we not to make the dining-room the very pleasantest in 

 the home ? There we are all together. There we sit long — 

 most of us ought to sit mucli longer. For reasons of health. 

 I would have the room, the table, the good things on it, the 

 very atmosphere, all as elegant and delightful as time and 

 means would permit. We can none of us afford ever to be 

 cross, surly, petulant— certainly not in the home, assuredly 

 not at the dear home table. There is no lubricant that so 

 nicely oils the wheels of digestion and assimilation as does 

 good cheer. Nothing so adorns the home table like never- 

 failing courtesy, cheerful demeanor, sweetest temper. It is 

 an undoubted fact that nothing breeds incurable dyspepsia 

 like crabbedness. Nothing shuts it out from the home and 

 life more surely than an atmosphere of purest love and har- 

 mony. 



GATHERING AT THE MEAL. 



A day or two since. I was entertained at two of the most 

 lovely rural homes in California. That is saying much, for no 

 urban homes can surpass in comfort and elegance some of the 

 ranch homes of this favored region. At one I was only pres- 

 ent at the dinner hour. It was a family which sounded no 

 discord in that lovely home. As we gathered, all were pres- 

 ent and sat at once. It was easy to see that this was their 

 wont. Only well-drilled soldiers are always in line. One can 

 see so quickly in the preparation for meals whether they are in 

 habit of unison, or whether they struggle along, with no 

 thought of one another, a 



In the other home, equally elegant, it was not so. I was 

 present at two meals, and at both each came as convenience 

 set the pace. It was obvious that this was custom. I sor- 

 rowed for.all. In my home, and at my table, I would as soon 



the steak, the coffee, or the bread, were omitted as to be 

 deprived of son or daughter, and the whole table would in no 

 wise compensate for the absent, or lack of the good wife. 



REGULARITY. 



This gathering at the table marks one phase of life that 

 counts for much in our success or failure. Are we regular in 

 our habits ? Do we accustom ourselves to act promptly, and 

 on time ? Even in our physical functions this contributes 

 immensely towards health and vigor. In the mental activi- 

 ties it means much more fruitage. To rise, to eat, to retire, etc., 

 at irregular times, means enfeebled health and poor work. To 

 study haphazard, means poor mental work, and a shabby brain. 

 This is one of the good things about college life. There lunch 

 must be exactly on time. Often this will suggest and secure reg- 

 ularity in all the life. Then organic wheels all turn easily — no 

 friction anywhere. Each organ does its best, and most, and 

 all the time. We know not why, but the body works much 

 more energetically when it is always in its special grooves. I 

 think most of the great genuiseg have had habits of wonderful 

 regularity. Men like Gladstone could not have so moved the 

 world had any other course been chosen. 



CARPENTERIA. 



The ride on the " Espe " shore line from Ventura to Santa 

 Barbara is charming. I took it to-night by moonlight. On 

 one side the tall hills — beginnings of the Sierra JIadre — hug 

 close as if to shut all danger away. On the other, the break- 

 ers keep pushing up as if to hold us on the narrow rock ledge. 

 With the moonlight to gild all, it seems a fairy scene. Car- 

 penteria — pronounced Car-pen-te-r^-a — is a delightful little 

 burg aDout midway on this line. The word is said to come 

 from the Spanish for " carpenter." There are several expla- 

 nations for its adoption. I like this one : The red-winged 

 flicker or yellow-hammer like the golden-winged of the East, 

 except red replaces gold on the wing-feathers, is thick here, 

 and is a winged carpenter, as all over California it pecks into 

 buildings. One church is surely very "holey " because of this 

 bird's desire of entrance. 



If we can trust to appearances at Carpenteria the bird is 

 a Baptist. The worshippers there have been compelled to tin 

 the church steeple, to protect from the flickers. The bird is 

 also a sap-sucker in California. He taps the walnuts, as does 

 the real, genuine sap-suckers the various orchard and forest 

 trees here and elsewhere. He is also unlike his close relative 

 East — a fruit lover. No wonder any bird that once tasted 

 California fruits would surely change its food habits, and 

 become frugivorous on the spot. 



Like the other flicker, if we take this bird's eggs away 

 daily, she will lay as many as 30. 



SICK PLANTS. 



Do our plants talk tons? If not, let us get acquainted 

 with them, and then they will. I love the poet Bryant. Isn't 

 he called " the Poet of Nature ?" He loved the great, spread- 

 ing trees, with their grace and grateful shade. The brooks 

 sang for him, and to him ; and trees, brooks, hills, mountains, 

 sky and air, had their stories to which his ears gave fine atten- 

 tion. He wrote the great " Thanatopsis." I read it so 

 much to my children, that they learned the poem, and to-day 

 my daughter loves Bryant most of all our poets. That he had 

 a listening ear for Nature's finest thoughts appears from the 

 exordium of that masterpiece: 



'•To him who in the love of Nature holds communion with her forms. 

 She speaks a various language." 



The little child wakes before the day, and awakens our 

 keenest anxieties by his little "I'm sick." As Day draws her 

 curtains, we peer down to the little trundle-bed, and we see 

 the pallor that drove away the pink and the rose,- and the " I'm 

 sick" is spoken just as clearly. 



My wife is anxious. The great, splendid sword-fern 

 which is the glory of our parlor, tells her it is sick. It speaks 

 in the yellowing tint of the leaves. And what shall we do ? 

 As in all plant sickness, so now. First, are there any insects ? 

 Does grub or caterpillar sap the roots, or scale or aphid the 

 leaves? ;:<Iy wife is too wary to make that probable. We 

 examine very carefully and find nothing. 



Next the water. Has there been too little or too much ? 

 Wife has learned to guage the water. We decide the water 

 has been right. 



Then we add nitrogen, sodium nitrate or Chili saltpeter i& 

 excellent, and, all at once, as by magic, new green appears, 

 life brightens, and our plant fairly sings, " I'm well again!" 



Plants, like children, must be generously fed. 



