704 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



June 1 



Notes of Travel 



By a. I. Root 



At the close of our Thursday-evening prayer- 

 meeting somebody nominated A. I. Root as del- 

 egate to the Congregational conference in the 

 neighboring town of Wellington. Well, we 

 have been having a lot of rainy days. We bee- 

 keepers notice it because we are so anxious to 

 have favorable weather for the bees to work on 

 fruit-bloom. By the way, if there is any one sea- 

 son of the year more than another that gives me 

 animation and inspiration it is the time of fruit- 

 bloom. 



While the conference was held only twenty 

 miles away, to go by rail would necessitate a 

 roundabout trip. Owing to the bad roads my 

 automobile had not once been out of town; and 

 when Ernest learned that I was going to take my 

 chances with my auto he protested that I would 

 get stuck in the mud, and have breakdowns, etc. 

 Instead of arguing the case with him, however, I 

 slipped off without his knowing it. Truly the 

 roads --ivere bad. Had the machine not been 

 overhauled, every thing screwed up tight, and 

 prepared for the rough-and-tumble trip, it would 

 not have stood the racket. Another thing, when 

 I undertake a difficult trip like this I take off the 

 top, the mud-guards, back seat, and, in fact, get 

 rid of every pound of superfluous weight. Had 

 the roads been good I would have taken our pas- 

 tor along; but as it had rained the day before, I 

 told him he had better not risk my kind of trans- 

 portation. As it was, I found several places 

 where the roads were so soft that, had I not man- 

 aged skillfully, my machine would have gone 

 down to the hubs; but by backing up, and then 

 going ahead, and repeating the operation several 

 times, I managed to get up momentum enough 

 to climb out of the mire on top of the partly dried 

 crust. I allowed two hours for the twenty miles 

 under the circumstances. I got up to the church 

 just about fifteen minutes before the opening of 

 the meeting. I can not take space here to tell 

 you of the excellent addresses we had. Notwith- 

 standing I was intensely interested in all of them, 

 I found it a rather severe task on my strength to 

 listen to five good addresses, one after another, 

 without any intermission. I am afraid I actual- 

 ly longed to get back into that automobile, not- 

 withstanding the bad and muddy roads. 



I found by the program that the session did 

 not open on the second day before ten o'clock. 

 I also knew there was one of the finest poultry- 

 farms in Ohio not many miles away; and so be- 

 tween three and four o'clock next morning, just 

 as soon as there was a glimpse of daylight, I was 

 off with my automobile again. By the way, I 

 have always enjoyed getting up in the morning 

 in springtime, before anybody else is in sight. 

 At such times I feel something like Robinson 

 Crusoe in the old poem: 



I am monarch of all I survey. 



My right there is none to dispute 

 From the center arornd to the sea 



I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 



Yes, I used to enjoy taking a walk on foot, 

 hours before anybody else was stirring. Later I 

 told you about my early morning bicycle rides; 



but I have never found any thing to compare 

 with an automobile ride early in the morning, 

 when the fruit-trees are just coming into bloom. 

 There is one wonderful advantage; the roads are 

 clear of all vehicles; and this is especially impor- 

 tant when there is only a narrow track of good road. 

 On this morning especially I let the little Olds 

 auto go like a young colt; in fact, I became so 

 intoxicated with the surroundings and the beauti- 

 ful workings of the machine that I forgot to watch 

 the glass cup containing the lubricating oil. The 

 oil gave out before I knew it, and the water in 

 the tank was boiling furiously as a consequence. 

 I had to walk quite a piece to a farmer's to get a 

 pail of water. When I went to fill up the oil-cup 

 I found the little pump that we use for filling it 

 had been left at home. How much trouble a lit- 

 tle forgetfulness on the part of elderly people like 

 myself sometimes occasions! 



Not long after my mishap with the automobile 

 I happened to glance at a farmer's home just 

 ahead of me, and was astonished to see several 

 long rows of chaff hives — perhaps over a hundred 

 in all. I said to myself, " Why, how in the 

 world does it happen that here is a bee-keeper 

 with all these nice hives in this locality, and I 

 did not know any thing about it.''" And then as 

 I began to take in the surroundings, things be- 

 gan to look familiar, and I said, "Why, this is 

 Dan White's place as sure as I live. " It was still 

 early in the morning, and Mrs. White informed 

 me that " Dan " was somewhere in the back yard. 

 When I explained that my time was very limited, 

 and that I would have to hurry off, friend White 

 said, "Now, Mr. Root, you certainly must stop 

 long enough to go and see my strawberry-patch. " 



"And are you still growing Gaudies, as you 

 used to do.'" 



" Come and see." 



He was soon by my side, and we ran down 

 along the railroad for perhaps a quarter of a mile, 

 and then got over into a field, across a beautiful 

 patch of clover indicating the fertility of the soil; 

 and then we found the Gandy strawberries just 

 shov^ing their beautiful green leaves through the 

 straw mulching. There were two acres in the 

 field, and another field nearly as large right along- 

 side had been carefully prepared and marked out 

 for setting out plants. The straw mulching was 

 not yet disturbed except what disturbance the 

 wind had made during the winter. In some 

 places there was a little too much straw, and in 

 others not quite enough. Mr. White said he 

 would have to get right at it and go over the field 

 carefully. 



" Friend W. , have you got a man in your em- 

 ploy who will take off just enough straw and not 

 too much, and put on just enough where it is 

 needed somewhere else, and not too much.''" 



"No, Mr. Root, I have not got such a man, 

 and I do not know where to find one. I am go- 

 ing over that two-acre field, and do every bit of 

 it myself." 



Some years ago the folks at our Ohio experi- 

 ment station at W^ooster told me the Gandy 

 strawberry was all right, and that it was about 

 the handsomest and best-flavored strawberry in 

 the world, but they added that it did not bear 

 enough berries. Now, Dan White, after years 

 of experience, has got hold of the secret of mak- 

 ing it bear enough berries to pay. He sold his 



