1896 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



689 



down to the ground under the weight, although 

 there was a post say every two rods. Now, this 

 result was on what would be called, ordinarily, 

 poor clay land. The whole secret was in keep- 

 ing the ground clean. With cultivator and hoe 

 the weeds are kept out so you see nothing but 

 the yellow dirt. I suspect the agency of the 

 heat of the sun in warming up the bare ground 

 has something to do. not only with the immense 

 crop of grapes, but with the remarkable sweet- 

 ness of the fruit. He said if I wanted to taste 

 some that were real sweet 1 should come up 

 where the reflection of the sun on the side of 

 the barn had ripened them ahead of the others. 



We have so many apples at home that I 

 thought they would have nothing to offer, 

 probably, any better than ours; but my eye 

 caught a glimpse of some small-sized ones 

 streaked with a vivid white and pink. They 

 could not tell me the name of these apples, but 

 asked me to taste them. I at once uttered an 

 exclamation of surprise, iti was so tender, crisp, 

 and juicy. I have heard people speak of straw- 

 berry apples, but I do not know that I ever saw 

 one. If this were called a strawberry apple, I 

 should think it rightly named, and I want some 

 grafts put into my orchard. How I should en- 

 joy giving a lot of these apples to a group of 

 juveniles to sample! 



My visit was rather too late to see the bees 

 on the buckwheat; but friend Kramer will get 

 forty or fifty bushels per acre, I should judge, 

 from some acres of that great field. The bees 

 have not stored a very great quantity this sea- 

 son from buckwheat. 



Now a word in regard to poor seasons. In 

 our report in our last issue, the impression was 

 given that in Ohio the season was poor. I tell 

 you, friends, it is not the season nor the locali- 

 ty so much as it is the bee-keeper; and a good 

 many times the apiarist gets lazy and loses his 

 enthusiasm. Why, just look here. Even after 

 some of the veterans here in Medina Co. have 

 abandoned the business and let their apiaries 

 go to ruin, saying it does not pay. there are 

 within ten miles of us half a dozen wide-awake 

 bright young bee-keepers who are making good 

 crops year after year. I believe it will rio them 

 good to mention their names: M. C. Kramer. 

 tJ. Prince, M. C. Chase. Vernon Burt, and 

 others. These men get a paying crop year 

 after year. For them the seasons are all fairly 

 good In my travels the matter is freely dis- 

 cussed, and the question is asked why it is 

 that bees have not stored honey in the last ten 

 years as they used to do some 30 or 25 years ago. 

 Well, 1 begin to think the bees are just as 

 ready and willing to do their part now as they 

 were when the business of bee-journals was 

 first started. I did not see that report from 

 Wisconsin on page 644 of our last issue until it 

 was in print; and when I did it made my heart 

 bound. Why, there is a report that is almost 

 equal to any thing ever given in any year, and 

 yet we have letters fiom Wisconsin bee-keepers 

 telling doleful stories of no honey to speak of 

 for the last three or four years. (Come to think 

 of it, I guess letters of this latter class come 

 from certain persons who give that as an ex- 

 cuse for not paying some little accounts which 

 have been standing a long while.) May be I 

 am getting on to somebody's toes just a little. 

 A year ago Dr. Miller might have bnstled up 

 and showed fight at what I am saying; but 

 just see what a report he has made during this 

 past season. Now, did the bees wake up, or 

 did Dr. Miller wake up with unusual enthusi- 

 asm in the spring of 1890? I never thought of it 

 before; but don't you believe the beefsteak diei 

 has something to do with his present honey- 

 crop after all ? Well, we can all agree on this 

 at any rate: It behooves the bee-keeper, 



whether he be old or young, to have his dish 

 right side up, and his faith in a loving Provi- 

 dence bright and clear, whenever the honey 

 does come. 



There is one thing about wheel-riding, espe- 

 cially in the cool autumn days, that is so re- 

 markable that I want to speak about it again. 

 It is this: A few days ago I wanted to go out 

 to see T. B. Terry dig his potatoes. It was just 

 the nicest kind of weather to dig potatoes, and 

 I was sure he would be at it. But it was not 

 the nicest kind of weather for wheeling. There 

 had been quite a shower the day before; but I 

 concluded the roads would be traveled enough 

 in a couple of hours so they would be very nice, 

 and there would be no dust, you know. As I 

 wanted to get an early start so as to get back 

 the same day. I knew I should have a tough 

 time of it till the farmers got around with their 

 teams so as to smooth down the roughness. 



I found things a little worse than I expected. 

 Before 9 o'clock I was tired out, and scarcely 

 ten miles from home. It seemed utterly impos- 

 sible for me to make the 25 miles that day. 

 The teams had been cutting the roads up when 

 they were soft and mushy; and it seemed for a 

 while as if I could make better progress on foot. 

 Toward noon the roads got better, and I began 

 to get my second wind. Well, about 3 o'clock I 

 was in splendid riding trim, although I had 

 made already about 40 miles; and I could hard- 

 ly resist the temptation to take another 40 miles 

 on the wheel instead of going to the station to 

 get home on the train. Had it not been that I 

 had promised Mrs. Root not to take any more 

 long rides I fear I should not have chosen the 

 latter. One of the bicycle papers suggests that, 

 whenever one can not sleep at night after a 

 long ride, be has ridden too hard or too far. 

 When you have had the proper amount of ex- 

 ercise on the wheel you will sleep nicely — much 

 better than if you had taken no ride at all; but 

 whenever you ride so far that the sleep seems 

 "knocked out" of you, then you have been 

 overdoing, even though you do not feel it. By 

 going home on the train I slept beautifully. 

 Had I pushed on. however, and made 70 or 80 

 miles in one day, very likely I should have 

 slept at only short intervals through the night. 

 The strange part to me is that, after a wheel- 

 man gets into this second wind, he has got 

 past the point, as it would seem, of fatigue; 

 and with even tolerable roads he goes on with- 

 out realizing he is tired. Why is it that we do 

 not meet this state of aflfairs in any other kind 

 of exercise? Of course, the outdoor air has 

 something to QO with it; but I suspect that fill- 

 ing the lungs to their greatest capacity with 

 oxygen is the prime factor. I remember that, 

 the day I have been speaking of, I could not 

 forget my fatigue or get over it until after 

 climbing several moderate hills in succession. 

 They were just long enough to make me puff 

 pretty well each time as I approached the sum- 

 mit, and I took a rest in going down on the op- 

 posite side. 



Just before reaching Remson's Corners, in 

 this county, I alighted lo walk up a long hill 

 and met my friend Dr. Albertson. I stopped at 

 his well, and while enjoying my drink I think 

 my eye must have glanced over the edge of the 

 dipper, and caught a glimpse of a row of cherry- 

 trees loaded with great luscious-looking yellow 

 and red cherries. I uttered an exclamation of 

 surprise: 



" Why, doctor, where in the world did you 

 get a variety of cherries of such size, and ripen- 

 ing right here this first week in September?" 



"O Mr. Root! that is just what I wanted to 

 show you. But. bless your heart, they are not 

 cherries but }}lums." 



The leaves, the shape of the tree, and every 



