894 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



*753 



shape to spcurft a very good crop of honey the 

 coming season. 



San Miguel is situated in the hilly " arroya " 

 country ((trroyd means creek or small stream), 

 where there an^ large quantities of campanilla 

 along the creek- banks, and ac, the same time 

 the bees have access to the flowers on the 

 mountains, which is a great help during the 

 summer. 



After spending a pleasant day and night 

 with friend Somerford, talking over our expe- 

 rience and recollections of boyhood days in our 

 distant homes, and the "pleasures of life's 

 merry morn," I bade him good-by, and in a 

 few hours was back within the .„ , i of the 

 contented hum of the bees, where I found ev- 

 ery thing all right after my two days' absence. 



Bees are doing well at present, although we 

 had but one little shower during August, and 

 the whole summer through has been the dry- 



we rested that night with clear consciences. 

 We were aroused, however, at an unseasonable 

 hour, somewhere toward morning, by Mr. 

 Mendleson. lie was so enthusiastic over that 

 sail to the islands that the big team was again, 

 at an early hour, speeding toward Ventura. 

 The schooner had returned, and the owner was 

 very accommodating in iiis arrangements, and 

 sent his brother out with us as captain. 



The owner. Capt. P'azzio, an Italian, had 

 walked the deck of many vessels, and, with a 

 well earned reputation as a successful navigat- 

 or, was now living a semi-retired life as a fish- 

 monger and saloon -keepi^r. Capt. Fazzio was a 

 short and rotund body. His girth, I have no 

 doubt, equaled his height. 



When we went out upon the long wharf we 

 found Messrs. Mercer and Crampton, with well- 

 filled lunch-baskets, blankets, fishing-tackle, 

 etc., all ready and anxious to join us. All told, 



"A life on the ocean wave"— the fellow who wrote it was green; 

 To sea he had never been, and a storm he liad never seen. 

 Cliorus: Oh for the solid land again I " etc. 



est I ever saw in Cuba. The September rains 

 have commenced now, and the bees are whit- 

 ening the combs in a manner that augurs well 

 for the coming season. I wish to correct a 

 mistake in my last article, where I said the 

 campanilla-blossom lasted from November un- 

 til the end of July. I do not know whether it 

 was my fault or the typo's; but it should have 

 been, from November till the end of February. 

 San Jose de las Lajas, Cuba, Sept. 4. 

 ■ I ^ 



RAMBLE 117. 



o'ek the deep blue sea. 



By Rdmhirr. 



After putting our hands at other work, and 

 thus splicing out the time to good advantage. 



there were five of us bee-keepers, and three 

 sailors^ Capt. Fazzio, a young Italian who 

 could utter scarcely a word of English, pilot 

 Sebastian Ventura, a gray- haired Spaniard 

 who had roamed the seas for sixty years. Then 

 there was a young Spaniard ready to act as a 

 sort of under-officer to pull in fish-lines, and 

 pass around the spittoon and slop-bucket when 

 necessary. 



The small row-boat danced merrily over the 

 waves, and, after two trips, landed us and all 

 of our effects upon the schooner, which was 

 secured to a buoy some distance from the wharf. 

 We all walked the deck with firm and elastic 

 step, and shouted to each other, " Now for a 

 sail o'er the dancing billows!" "Oh for a taste 

 of the salt, salt seas!" "Oh! who wouldn't be a 

 mariner?" Bro. Wilder came near dancing a 



