814 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTUKE. 



Nov. 15. 



supplied with their winter stores, and all with- 

 out lighting a smoker or opening a hive. I do 

 not work with the bees during this comb-clean- 

 ing time: that is, not in the home apiary, where 

 the work is done, and so I have no ti'ouble with 

 robbers. Chalon Fowls {-per Violet). 



The following is a private note sent along 

 with the above; but as it contains a " gleam of 

 news" we take the liberty of giving it also. Vi- 

 olet's penmanship is as plain as a type-writer, 

 and our printers wish other papas would call 

 upon their little girls in a similar way. 



Mr. Root:— I inclose an article. I wrote it to- 

 day in such a hurry that I could hardly read it, 

 so I got my little girl to copy it. The honey 

 crop is small here. I took only about 1000 lbs., 

 but T am happy just the same, for a " stranger " 

 has arrived at our fouse; and although he 

 doesn't pay his board, and talks kind o' queer, 

 we have concluded to adopt him; and — well, 

 you know how it is yourself. 



Oberlin, O., Oct. 24. Chalon Fowls. 



EENEST'S NOTES OF TRAVEL AMONG THE 

 BEE-KEEPERS OF YORK STATE. 



BICYCLING OYElt THE MOL'NTAINS TO ALBANY. 



The next morning Mrs. Root took the stage 

 for Hunter, at which point she was to take the 

 train to New York, to meet her sister. In the 

 meantime I donned my bicycle suit, oiled up, 

 and stood in readiness to take a fifty-mile run 

 to Albany. It had rained furiously on Sunday. 

 and the roads were not in the best possible con- 

 dition. With some misgivings. Mrs. Root bade 

 me good-by, and off I started. I made pretty 

 slow progress. Instead of going do\\'n to the 

 Hudson, and following the river u|). I decided 

 to take a shorter run across tlie country. I had 

 gone hardly five miles before I almost had a 

 notion to turn back, as the roads were so mud- 

 dy that, in several places, instead of the bicy- 

 cle carrying me, rather than get it all mud I 

 picked it up and carried U. I traveled along in 

 this way until I came to a pedestrian. Some of 

 the time he was away ah(>ad of me and some of 

 the time I was up even with him. and it was 

 somewhat humiliating to he plodding along at 

 that rate, knowing that fifty miles or so were 

 ahead of me. I thougiit that, when I got to 

 the top of the mountain I would sit down and 

 coast all the way. I arrived at the top. and, 

 behold there was another magnificent view; 

 but asl have exhausted all my vocabulary of ad- 

 jectives, I can not stojj now to tell you about it. 

 I commenced coasting, and all was very fine for 

 awhile; but the road grew rapidly stony and 

 rough, and it seemed to get steeper and steeper. 

 The brakes would hardly hold me, and some 

 places were so rough that I had to dismount 

 and hold the machine back. I never had the 

 attraction of gravitation torment me so much 

 as on that ride from Moiint Pisgah. It was a 

 continual pullback all the time. On tln^ way a 

 stone caught under the guard, and I thought 

 sure then that the machine was utterly smash- 

 ed. I stopped and cleaned the mud ou>, reach- 

 ed the stone, scraped out the guard, and away I 

 went. 



There was nothing particularly attj-active on 

 this road to Albany, except, perchance, the 

 mud. Like the same article in Ohio, it would 

 stick to the wheels, get under the mud-guards, 

 and whenever I dismounted it would cling to 

 my feet. The roads seemed to grow worse and 

 worse. So rough and stony was the land that 



agriculture seemed to be developed Intt little 

 beyond its i)rimitive form. I saw log houses 

 and ox teams. H(>re and there were l)ox hives; 

 and one place I remember in particular had in 

 its front yard from forty to fifty skcjis. I 

 thought of turning in and asking thi' owner of 

 those bees a few (piestions. Possibly he might 

 give me an idea or two; but every thing was so 

 dilapidated, house and all, that I decided to go 

 on. I was traveling at a pretty fair rate, when 

 just back of me I heard a low growl, and the 

 rapid patter of feet. Looking back I saw it 

 was one of those 



LARGE FEROCIOUS BULLDOGS. 



He had come from the yard where I saw the 

 box hives, and he was after me full tilt. Un- 

 fortunately the road was rough, otherwise I 

 could have left him in the race. I ijut on all 

 speed, however; but, despite all I could do. the 

 dog was coming nearer and nearer. I felt every 

 moment that he \\'ould grab my stocking legs, 

 and the cold chills crept itp my back. I never 

 had a nightmare that was more real. I was 

 thoroughly frightened, and I longed for a wea- 

 pon of some kind. Something that I could not 

 do ordinarily I did this time. While the wheel 

 was in full motion I whirled about in the sad- 

 dle, and. with heels sticking out behind, kicked 

 outback. I ran into an obstruction, and the 

 next thing \\as bicycle, rider, and dog, pretty 

 badly mixed up. I was on top of the bicycle, 

 and the dog on me, and I thought my days 

 were ended. Although on my back, I grabbed 

 for his throat, and kicked lustily with my feet. 

 The dog was evidently as much oi' more sur- 

 prised than I. for, the next thing I knew, he was 

 running for the box hives, with his tail be- 

 tween his legs, yelping as if the evil one were 

 after him. I picked myself out of the mud, 

 and, with a stick, scrajx'd that article oiT. t 

 mounted the saddle again, and at the next 

 hous(! I came to I stoi)pi'd for a drink of water. 

 A good-natured farmer came out, and, observ- 

 ing my dilapidated condition, asked me whence 

 I came and whither I was going. I told him, 

 and then related the squabble I had had \\ith 

 the dog, and desii-ed him to convey the intelli- 

 gence to the o\\ ner of the box hives, that, the 

 next time I came along that way. I would sure- 

 ly kill his dog. As I never exitect to ti'avel the 

 same route again, the dog will probably not 

 die by my hands. 



Perhaps I might say here, that one of the 

 things that annoy bicyclists along the country 

 is good-for-nothing dogs whose chief business 

 is to annoy passers-by, and who seem to have 

 a particular dislike to bicyclists. This is not 

 the first fracas that I have had with dogs. In 

 one other instance, one of a ferocious type act- 

 ually grabbed me by the calf of my leg. and 

 hung on. I was at my wits' ends" to know 

 "what to do, and how to be happy while doing 

 it." A tliought struck me on' the instant. 

 Turning to the dog I said stei'nly. " Jack, go 

 back into the house, sir! tio back, sii-I" It was 

 quite evident that the animal had heard this 

 before. Letting go he looked at me as much as 

 to say, " Well, may be I have made a mistake." 

 and back to the house he went. Usually, when 

 the i-oads are fair I run away from them. If I 

 have a fair start, it is a pretty good dog that 

 can even catch up with me. 



But. to return. I wearily wended my way 

 over the bad roads, until I I'eached the suburbs 

 of tlie old city of Albany. A man passed me, 

 and said. "Thev are waiting for vou in the 

 city." 



" Who ?" said I. " Bee-keepers ?" 



"Bee-keepers!" said he in surprise, and we 

 both passed on, neither knowing what the oth- 

 er meant. I had supposed that he meant that 



