588 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



I^lanted had been mostly run out by the na- 

 tive sort. But not so with the blackberries. 

 They had survived, and were bending to the 

 ground with great masses of green fruit. 



This is a wonderful region for red rasp- 

 berries, and I am going to talk a little at 

 length about the red raspberries in North- 

 ern Michigan. My good friend J. Palmer, 

 who is also a subscriber to Gleanings, has 

 about the prettiest rasj^berry-farm I ever 

 saw. There are acres of great clumps of 

 Cuthbert raspberries, all just alike; and we 

 arrived there just while a dozen or more 

 boys and girls, men and Avomen, were pick- 

 ing the fniit. Wlien we tirst drove up I 

 suggested to my friend who was dri\ang 

 that we would find Mr. Palmer sooner if 

 we inquired of " that boy in the cherry tree 

 close by the load;" but when said boy look- 

 ed up to give us directions, there was a 

 rougish smile on his face; and I could not 

 understand why he should blush until his 

 face took on almost the same color as the 

 cherries until a lady at my side suggested 

 that said hoy was a girl wearing overalls so 

 she could climb around where the cherries 

 were thickest. Now, that is all right, espe- 

 cially if the father or mother were some- 

 where near by. She was quite young, and 

 any sort of skirts would be more or less a 

 hindrance in climbing among the branches 

 of a cherry tree bending down with ripened 

 fruit. When she comes down out of the 

 tree she no doubt has some sort of skirt to 

 slip on before she goes around among peo- 

 ple. 



Well, friend Palmer took great pride in 

 showing us over his plantation. He invited 

 us to go out where the l)erries had not been 

 picked ; and, didn't we have a " picnic" that 

 afternoon? Then he showed us a model 

 cherry tree loaded down with the most lus- 

 cious fruit; and we ate more cherries after 

 we thought we had had plentj' of red rasp- 

 beiTies. The raspberries on his cultivated 

 ground were beautiful, large, and luscious 

 fruit ; and I think he is getting a price that 

 will pay well for all his time and trouble. 

 When I asked him about maintaining such 

 fertilitj'^ on the ground I used to think was 

 almost " no good." as it is so full of sand 

 and gravel, he pointed to a field of clover, 

 rank, luxuriant, and full of bloom. Turn- 

 ing under clover is the secret. A big swarm 

 of bees that had been hived near the cherry 

 tree also attracted our attention. 



While red raspberries are found all over 

 the woods in Northern Michigan, right up 

 around our cabin they were so dead ripe 

 that they rattled down on the forest leaves 

 whenever we touched a bush. Of course, 

 the wild ones are not as good, nor as a rule 

 as large, as the cultivated Cuthberts. 



While I am talking about raspberries, let 

 me remark that, as we were approaching 

 the city of Cadillac, I wondered why the 

 train should stop right out in the woods 

 where there was no station. We soon un- 

 derstood it, however, for a dozen or more 

 women and rosy-cheeked girls climbed into 

 the car, each one holding a basket or dish- 

 pan heaping full of wild red raspberries. 

 The obliging conductor of the train had 

 carried them out into the wilderness in the 

 morning and stopped to pick them up 

 with their loads of berries about six o'clock 

 in the afternoon. Now just a little more 

 about red raspberries. 



Fi'eddie Heimforth, the eighteen-year-old 

 son of the widow who has charge of my 

 place, has three colonies of bees. One of 

 the three has already given ninety sections 

 of comb honey, besides sending out a rous- 

 ing swarm; and as the honey was coming in 

 when I left he will probably get more yet. 

 Well, Freddie picked out a section from the 

 ninety — one that was cjuite a little travel- 

 stained. The honey was thoroughly ripen- 

 ed. I had finished breakfast, and I thought 

 I did not care for any honey. But he cut 

 out perhaps a quarter of a section. It was 

 so thick it would hardlj' run, and was a 

 beautiful golden yellow. Now, beside my 

 ]3late was a bowl full of mush made of 

 cream of wheat. My breakfast was so am- 

 ple and satisfying that I had not got around 

 to the cream of Avheat; but when I tasted 

 that honey, not seeing any bread and but- 

 ter, I took a spoonful of the mush. Do you 

 remember what Ernest said a Avhile ago 

 about cracked-wheat muffins and nice hon- 

 ey? Well, I just recalled it Avhen I tasted 

 tiiat mush Avith the honey. A part of a 

 glass of milk that I had left stood near by; 

 and I not only ate all of that honey and 

 drank all of that bowl of milk, but I was so 

 full of enthusiasm for the raspberry honey 

 of Northern Michigan that I felt just like 

 saying it was the very nicest honey I ever 

 tasted. Mrs. Root, hoAvever, reminds me 

 that I have said the same thing so many 

 times before that nobody Avill believe me if 

 T say it again. Did such a big breakfast 

 make me sick? Not a bit. 



I kept inquiring all around about that 

 Sunday-school over among the hills that T 

 started thirteen years ago. The people told 

 me it Avas still going, and that it had been 

 running all these years, winter and sum- 

 mer; but they griessed a good many didn't 

 go of late. SoT after my hearty breakfast 

 T started out to invite the people I knew to 

 come to Sunday-school next day. I told 

 them I was going to talk a little while. 

 Well. I told you before about the gi-eat hills 

 — the biggest hills, if I am correct, in all 



