1895 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



455 



what road, I felt a strange longing to take that 

 very train too. I had just been feeling that I 

 must do something, or go someivhcre, that 

 dreary, rainy morning, and the way seemed to 

 open almost of itself. Do you remember that 

 old hyms. 



He leadeth me ? 



Mr. Ming said he was going down to Oakland, 

 and would be back in the afternoon; and as I 

 had nothing else to do he said I should come 

 along and look at his road, and see the country. 

 As we passed through Palm Springs I got just 

 enough of a glimpse to feel sure I wanted to 

 stop there. A little further on we passed, quite 

 near Oakland, a solid hundred acres of oranges. 

 Over the arched entrance to the grounds I read, 

 "Forest City Orange-orchard." I was told by 

 my companion that it belonged to some promi- 

 nent merchants in Cleveland, O. 



Constance was evidently as much delighted 

 in the afternoon to find her father where she 

 least expected him as I was to see her. Before 

 leaving Oakland, however, I got a chance to 

 run up to Palm Springs, and investigate. In a 

 little shady nook were great palm trees that 

 threw their protecting branches all over and 

 around, and a beautiful crystal spring boils up. 

 sending out a volume sufficient to make a good- 

 sized creek. The waters are just warm enough 

 for nice bathing, and there are seats arranged 

 on the mossy banks, making it a most inviting 

 place for picnickers or pleasure-seekers. Learn- 

 ing of a bee-man only a mile and a half away, 

 I walked out to see him. and met a generous 

 welcome. He had suffered by the frost, but 

 was very busy putting his ground in good shape 

 again to put in another crop. The bee-hives, 

 the fruit-trees, the different buildings for 

 poultry, grain, domestic animals, etc., scattered 

 through a large dooryard, made one think of 

 the old-fashioned farmhouses. While others 

 were complaining, and saying that farming 

 does not pay. and that there was no use of 

 planting any more orange-trees, nor in fussing 

 with them any more, he and his good wife were 

 bright, hopeful, and enthusiastic. "Why."' 

 said he, "Mr. Root. I sold over ^(JOO worth of 

 oranges right out of this dooryard, in 1894. 

 Why should I give up and get discouraged ? " 



The Orange-belt Railroad has packing ware- 

 houses along its whole length. Sometimes it 

 seems as if there were an orange-house and 

 station every mile: and, in fact, some of them 

 are less than a mile apart. In consequence of 

 the freeze, however, business was. as might be 

 expected, dead, and things looked dull. 



Our party left Oakland in the afternoon, 

 catching me on the train, and went through to 

 Tarpon Springs that Saturday night. On the 

 way to Tarpon Springs we passed through the 

 great tomato regions round about Claremont 

 and the strawberrv-farms near by. We passed 

 the Sabbath at Tarpon Spring's. Here, as in 

 almost every town in Florida, were very pretty 

 churches, filled with good audiences who listen- 

 ed to able and intelligent pastors. Tarpon 

 Springs gets its name from another of these 

 wonderful springs, connected, evidently, with 

 the artesian water. This spring is so great 

 that pleasure-boats of all kinds run out into the 

 lake and gulf adjoining. This water, however, 

 has a dark color', similar to that I have spoken 

 of tliat gets its hue from the roots of the saw- 

 palmetto. Iron pipes have been screwed to- 

 gether, and pushed down into the crater of this 

 spring some ^0 or 300 feet. They did not touch 

 bottom even then; but the sides of the cavern 

 presented so many shelves that the rod would 

 strike on a projecting shelf and prevent going 

 down any further. Well, this spring is inter- 

 mittent, and it is supposed to have a subter- 

 ranean connection with a lake several miles 



away. The water in the lake is dark, like the 

 waters of this spring; and during a severe 

 drouth, when the lake is nearly dry the water 

 stops running. Is it possible that the artesian 

 wells of Florida are fed by the multitude of 

 lakes standing on higher ground? Almost the 

 entire soil of Florida is so sandy the water 

 would readily get down through into the rocky 

 strata composed of coral, and the phosphatic 

 rocks that are opening up such a great industry 

 just now. 



We stopped at a hotel called the Ferns, and I 

 for one came pretty near falling in love with 

 the Ferns, the town, the spring, the people, and 

 especially with the old white-haired pastor of 

 the Congregational church. I called on him 

 before services, and then had the pleasure of 

 listening to his talk to the Bible-class before 

 preaching. 



At an early hour Monday morning we stepped 

 off the train at St. Petersburg, at the southern 

 termination of the Orange-belt Railroad. The 

 first thing that enlisted my attention was see- 

 ing horses and wagons, away out in Tampa 

 Gulf, not only half a mile, but a whole mile 

 from shore. These wagons went out to get 

 freight from the boats, and there was a regular 

 traffic back and forth all day long, taking ad- 

 vantage of the rise and fall of the tide, as a 

 matter of course. The bottom of the bay is 

 hard firm sand, and level enough to be good 

 wheeling. They say the horses have learned 

 the trade so well that they go out in the water 

 anywhere, providing they can keep their noses 

 above the surface. But I tell you it looks 

 funny to see a regular traffic going on all day 

 long, sometimes with the horse, and wagon too, 

 almost submerged with the exception of the 

 box holding the merchandise. I suppose they 

 have regular pathways, and know where they 

 can go and where they can not. When the tide 

 is out, people walk along the sandbars out into 

 Tampa Bay for fully half a mile. The sand is 

 clean, and furnishes nice firm walking. The 

 Orange- belt Railway has a new pier which 

 runs out from shore a full mile. They evident- 

 ly expect to be ready for business when it comes 

 again. 



St. Petersburg is a great fishing-point. There 

 are crowds of tourists fishing all day long, al- 

 most the whole length of the pier; and I am 

 told there are parties who furnish tackle and 

 bait; and not only that, they put the bait on 

 and take off the fish. All the stranger has to 

 do is to take the pole, throw out the line, and 

 pull them in. All this is provided free of 

 charge. You can fish to your heart's content 

 without soiling your fingers, or investing a 

 nickel in anv thing. Whv, this ought to be the 

 fisherman's '^ paradise. Even fine ladies can 

 fish, and vvear their kid gloves. Oh! by the 

 way. perhaps it were well to mention that all 

 the fish caught belong to the oivner of the fish- 

 poles, etc. 



Our partv took dinner at the big hotel— price 

 7.5 cts.; and the house was so full of guests that 

 one sometimes had to wait tivo hours to get a, 

 place at the table. Now, you do not know A. 

 I. Root very well if you think he is going to 

 wait two hours for dinner. Just ask Mrs. Root 

 how she thinks such a program would work. 

 Well. I found a little humble restaurant called 

 the Woman's Exchange. There was not very 

 much style about it. but I found every thing 

 neat and clean, and they gave me a great abun- 

 dance of nicely cooked fish (such as they were 

 catching all the while out on the pier), and the 

 bill was only about 25 or 35 cts. This included 

 coffee, potatoes, bread, and sauce. The Ex- 

 change is a branch of the W. C. T. U. work. 

 They were nice friendly women, and they told 

 me their principal reason for starting a res- 



