556 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



July 1. 



pretty little cottages in Kent, and in a minute 

 more I heard something like this: 



" Millie, there is a man in the other room who 

 wants to see you." 



" Why. who is he, and what does he want ? " 



"I don't know. You will have to go in and 

 talk with him.' 



"Oh bother!" 



You see. the new wife was deep in the mys- 

 teries of bread-making — that is, her fingers 

 were; but when she caught sight of the said 

 "man," who insisted on seeing the lady of the 

 house, she just threw up her hands and ejacu- 

 lated. "Oh Uncle Amosl have you really got 

 over here?" 



I do not know whether any of the flour from 

 her fingers got on my coat-collar or not; but 

 there was danger of it. Perhaps I did look 

 rather fresh and bright for an uncle toward 60 

 years old; for, about half a mile out of Kent, I 

 found a pretty watering-trough, with a sort of 

 annex at one end where the water poured over 

 into a stone basin, where the dogs could drink 

 with comfort. I first had a good drink of the 

 soft water, then I washed my hands in the dog- 

 trough, and some way or other my head got 

 down under that cooling stream. If you have 

 never ridden a wheel you can not imagine the 

 delicious sensation. So you see my niece found 

 me with my face washed and hair combed. 

 After a little we took our wheels (this young 

 couple are both provided with wheels) and ran 

 around the town. You see, they did not have 

 to hitch up nor even pay a cab-driver. I do not 

 know how it happened, but my wheel turned 

 up almost of itself in front of an ice-cream 

 stand. Some beautiful strawberries out on the 

 walk, right in front, must have had something 

 to do with it. Millie ordered some strawberries 

 while I was asking for ice-cream; and — did you 

 ever try great luscious Bubach strawberries 

 mashed up in ice-cream, when you were hot 

 and thirsty? I began wondering who put such 

 beautiful strawberries on the market so early 

 in the season: and within an hour I was having 

 an enthusiastic talk with the very man, my 

 friend L. B. Pierce, of Tallmadge. O. No one 

 who reads the agricultural papers of the United 

 States needs an introduction to friend Pierce. 

 About a year ago (see page ,534, July 1, 1893) I 

 told you about his strawberry-plantation out 

 in the sandy woods, or on ground that had been 

 woods but a short time before. New ground 

 just reclaimed from the forest must have some 

 special fitness for strawberries. It was Satur- 

 day, and friend Pierce was about as much 

 astonished as any of us to find that there were 

 just bushels and bushels of berries ready to 

 pick. He had picked the afternoon before, and 

 decided they would do nicely until Monday; 

 but the beautiful warm weather, after such a 

 protracted cold rainy spell, had done the busi- 

 ness. We sampled all the new varieties, and 

 tasted and tested, and tasted and tested, until 

 we could not tell a good berry if we saw it. I 

 insisted that friend Pierce should hunt up his 

 pickers, and get those berries into market before 

 night. But he had got his work laid out other- 

 wise, and could not break up his plans. Per- 

 haps he crot as much money for his berries the 

 Monday following, but I felt pretty sure he 

 would not. Besides, some of them would be 

 overripe. I said so much about it, that friend 

 Pierce would have been almost excusable in 

 saying he knew how to manage his own busi- 

 ness. He did not know, however, and neither 

 did I, that my own berry-patch at home was 

 prftty much in the Same predicament. Wait a 

 little. 



Then I visited my cousin, Wilbur Fenn. He 

 has ' just got a new potato-planter, and I found 

 him but in the fields, his group of bright pretty 



children all around him as usual. We had ever 

 so much to talk about. The planter that he 

 had just purchased does not miss hills. It 

 leaves the soil fine and mellow underneath, and 

 all around the potato, and it was just as ac- 

 curate as planting by hand, or even more so. 

 In fact, it is hand-planting. We went out into 

 the field where the potatoes were coming up, 

 and looked into the matter. A bright littie 

 girl ten years old was so much interested and 

 animated in regard to the whole matter that I 

 very soon discovered she did some of the drop- 

 ping. She sat behind her papa, on the ma- 

 chine, and placed the pieces of potato in a 

 series of little cups arranged in a circle. There 

 were, perhaps, two dozen of them; and th& 

 dropper has only to keep a piece of potato in 

 each of these two dozen cups as they revolve 

 in a circle. It seems to me that the machine is 

 a magnificent success. But something else 

 impressed me during that visit, and it was this: 

 There is no success with machinery, or any 

 thing else in the line of progress and civiliza- 

 tion, to be compared with the success that 

 attends the man who has his oivn children so 

 much interested in all his work on the farm 

 that they find more delight in his companion- 

 ship than anywhere else. You see, it was va- 

 cation time, so the children could be with their 

 father from morning till night. The good 

 mother told me. while we were eating dinner, 

 that the little girl kept wishing and hoping 

 that something would hinder the hired man 

 from coming the day they were going to plant, 

 so she could just ride on that machine all day 

 and put the pieces of potato one by one into 

 those magic cups. I began making some in- 

 quiry in regard to the family, as I looked from 

 one bright little face to another. Cousin Fenn 

 replied, "There are just five, and the oldest 

 (the little girl who dropped the potatoes) sits 

 there feeding the youngest some bread and 

 milk." You see, she knew how to help h*M 

 mamma by feeding the baby, just as well as 

 she knew how to help make that complicated 

 machine a success in planting potatoes. I told 

 them I should miss my train unless I were in 

 Akron by 3 o'clock; but I had to see the pota- 

 toes down cellar again. And, by the way, that 

 big crop of Monroe Seedlings was planted the 

 last week in June, instead of the first, as I havt- 

 had it some of my writings. When I did get 

 started I just made the Victor Flyer " fly," foi 

 sure; but I reached the station ten minutes toe 

 late. I did not care much, however, for I can 

 pretty nearly keep up with a good many of oui 

 branch-railway trains. There was anothei 

 train two hours later; and I decided that it 

 would be much more to my liking to spend the 

 two hours at Fairlawn, Summit Co. I found 

 my young friend, C. W. Frank, enjoying him- 

 self among his crops, at high-pressure garden- 

 ing. We got around to the strawberry- pa tcli 

 in a little while, and then I ate ever so many 

 more. Just as I was getting ready to go ovei 

 to the depot, his sister announced that suppei 

 was ready, and that I must have some "straw- 

 berries and cream." I told them that I should 

 "get left" again, and it was Saturday night 

 and our boys doubtless needed me sadly to hil] 

 them wind up their strawberry-picking of tin 

 day; but friend Frank said he had just ben 

 over to the station, and the agent said the trail 

 could not possibly come along sooner than 4." 

 minutes; but just as we were half through out 

 merriment with strawberries and cream, th' 

 whistle blew. I sprang for my wheel; but tht 

 boys had been riding, and the handle-bar wa^ 

 twisted. I was left again, and I want to fl 

 you why I got left this time. The station agi'ii 

 has a clock worth about .50 etS.. and, as a mat 

 ter of course, he had to keep sun time. Evi-r^ 



