1889 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



I!) 



picion? The little steamer is, however, on its mis- 

 sion every summer, and we hope it will exert an 

 educating- influence on all city people who pur- 

 chase what it pleases them to term wild honey? 



On Tuesday our visit drew to a close. We cast 

 lingering glances at old Buck Mountain, with its 

 huckleberry paradise; at Shelving Rock, with its 

 rattlesnake dens; at Tongue Mountain, noted for 

 deer and the deer-slayers; at the placid waters 

 into whose pure depths the eye can penetrate 20 or 

 30 feet; the islands, fairylike in their beauty; the 

 boats, with their suggestions of pleasure and exer- 

 cise; we could scarcely tear ourselves away from so 

 many attractions, and the Rambler would willingly 

 rest from his wanderings, and build a log hut 

 under the sheltering trees, and, Crusoe like, spend 

 his days in hunting and Ashing:. 



Our last repast in ("amp Andrews was a picked- 

 up dinner. The most prominent object on the 

 table was the doctor's medicine-hox. with 500 bot- 

 tles, more or less. It was a terrible-looking in- 

 strument of destruction. 



The only accident of note was a thrilling adven- 

 ture of Mr. Lockliart, who rushed in one dark night, 

 averring that he had been knocked down by a bur- 

 glar. We prospected with lanterns, and found he 

 had tumbled over a big boulder. It is a mystery 

 how people's imagination will run away with them. 

 Another was a skillful star scene, indulged in by 

 the Rambler. He tried, and succeeded in sitting 

 down in the lake. 



The pleasures of the visit will be long remember- 

 ed; and the many kind favors bestowed on the 

 Rambler by his fellow-campers and members of the 

 family, I trust can some time be returned; and that 

 other bee-keepers can some time enjoy a week at 

 Lake George is the earnest wish of the Rambler. 



LOT'S WIFE. 



DEACON SMITH DISCOURSES ON THE ELEMENTS 

 NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN BUSINESS. 



aEACON SMITH was on the winning side in 

 politics this year. He is therefore more lo- 

 quacious than ever, and more genial, if that 

 were possible. He lias spent several even- 

 ings at our house since election. He brings 

 " Mirandy," and Mirandy brings her knitting-work. 

 Our apple-barrel holds out yet, and the bee-journals 

 have not lost their interest, although truth compels 

 me to state that they were only secondary during- 

 the heated campaign. 



The deacon's teeth are a little poor; but our 

 Wealthies are in their prime now, and he is 

 obliged to acknowledge that they are " most as good 

 as the Greenings of York State." 



The last evening he spent here, the deacon got to 

 talking about the elements necessary to success in 

 business. 



" Now, there was Lot's wife," said he; "what a 

 shining example she was of how not to do it!— not 

 that I blame the poor tired woman for looking back 

 upon the scenes of her childhood. Anybody could 

 have forgiven her for that. Rut Moses was too 

 busy looking after the way ward children of Israel 

 to give us her full history, and you see she wasn't 

 worthy of a page or two in the Riblical record. He 

 only mentions her, as the preacher does the text, to 

 give point to her instability of character. Did you 



ever think of it? She hadn't even a name in the 

 book. There's Sarah and Rebekah and Esther and 

 Ruth, and a host of other noble women who have 

 blessed the earth ever since they lived. But she 

 was Lot's wile— that's all. If she had been a wo- 

 man of character, do you think she would have been 

 consigned to everlasting nothingness in that kind 

 of style? Even Jezebel got more distinction than 

 that. 



"Just imagine what a rattling there would be 

 among the dry bones if Mirandy should die, and I 

 should put up a respectable monument to her mem- 

 ory with this inscription: ' The late Mrs. Smith,' in- 

 stead of saying, ' Hicjacet (here lie) the mortal re- 

 mains of Amelia Mirandy Sunnyweather, the late 

 consort and worthy helpmeet of Uriah Smith, a wo- 

 man who never turned her back on a duty unper- 

 formed.' 



" If you will read between the lines you will dis- 

 cover that Lot's wife was one of those weak-mind- 

 ed, changeable persons who never have an object 

 in life, and are blown about by every wind of doc- 

 trine. When Lot started from Sodom she thought 

 she loved him above every thing else, and she'd 

 share her fortunes with him. But when she got 

 tired, and had blistered her feet on the sand, she 

 thought, ' What a fool Lot was to believe what those 

 men told him: I guess I'll go back.' So she turned 

 back to the luxurious city she had left, thinking 

 perhaps that her husband would soon follow suit. 

 You know the rest. 



" Now, that's the trouble with a great many men 

 in this world. They don't know what they are here 

 for. They haven't any purpose. Like a lost dog 

 they will follow the first emigrant wagon that 

 comes along, if the driver only whistles. 



"Perhaps they are farming. Things haven't gone 

 first rate. The price ot hogs has gone down, and 

 cholera specific has gone up. Along comes a white 

 sail with the magic word ' protected wool ' on. The 

 hogs are sold, given away, or run into the sea. They 

 are only swine, any way. But sheep are high. By 

 the^time he gets fairly started— has learned how to 

 keep the wolves off by day and the dogs by night, 

 how to save the lambs in spring and the old ones 

 from foot-rot in the summer, he discovers that 

 Texas and Australia can raise wool cheaper than 

 he can, and that sheep-raising is not so profitable as 

 he thought. So he sells his sheep at a sacrifice, and 

 invests in booming cattle. It's the same old story- 

 buying at the top and selling at bottom prices. Old 

 age creeps on apace. By the time he has run the 

 gamut of the industries he is ready to vote with 

 Solomon that variety and vexation of spirit is the 

 common experience of the farmer; whereas, if he 

 had stuck to some one thing he might have com- 

 pel/ success. 



"There's neighbor Jones. He bought a lot of 

 bees a few years ago when bees were high and 

 honey ditto. He thought that was the highway to 

 wealth and happiness. He put a good deal of mon- 

 ey into the business— a good deal more than there 

 was any use of. He didn't know any more about 

 bees than a sand-hill crane does about astronomy. 

 He only soared among the clouds. The first winter 

 he lost heavily. The next summer his profits were 

 so fine he couldn't see them. Last year wasn't 

 much better, but he got a good deal of experience. 

 But he got disgusted with them, and put them all 

 up at auction. I boughtthe whole outfit for a song. 

 Now, I know there isn't money in bees every year. 



