1894 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



7G3 



have tilled eight full-depth Langstroth frames, 

 I would have given them a full -depth super." 



"But «'/iy don't you like these half-depth ex- 

 traeting-supers ? " 



" Because it is so much more work getting 

 honey out of them. I can handle." said he, " a 

 full-depth Langstroth frame as quickly as a 

 half-depth. You see. this entails just so much 

 more unnecessary work." 



"You are not using any IIofTman frames," 

 said I, turning the subject. 



" No, sir. and I don't want them. The loose- 

 spacing thick-top frames are good enough for 

 me." 



Looking at my watch I told the doctor I must 

 be off. I had to get to Detroit that day, and, 

 besides, hunt up a bee-keeper who was afraid 

 he had got a disease in a nucleus he purchased 

 of us. Of course, I felt anxious to investigate, 

 and spend enough time to make a thorough ex- 

 amination, and instruct our customer what to 

 do. 



" What is the man's name ? " said the doctor. 



" William Kidder, of Wyandot, Wayne Co., 

 Mich." 



In a few minutes more we were walking up 

 the street, and finally, came to the turn that 

 would lead me on my way toward Detroit. I 

 had been over the same route a year before on 

 the bicycle, and felt as if I knew where I was 

 going. Usually I am going over roads that 

 are entirely new to me, and I have to go cau- 

 tiously lest I get on the wrong road. A spin of 

 about sixty-five miles brought me to Wyandot. 

 Here I made diligent inquiry for Mr. Kidder. 

 No one but the postmaster knew any thing 

 about him: and even he said that Mr. K. came 

 for his mail only once a month. After a fruit- 

 less inquiry for about an hour and a half. I 

 addressed anotlier note, expressing my regret 

 that I could not call upon him, not being able 

 to find bis whereabouts. I felt greatly disap- 

 pointed, because, if it were a case of foul brood, 

 I wanted an opportunity to see it, and treat it 

 or destroy it entirely. If it were only a case of 

 dead brood, or something entirely harmless, I 

 wanted to assure our friend of that fact; but 

 as the sequel proved, after corresponding in 

 regard to the matter, it was not a case of foul 

 brood: and even if it were, our friend did not 

 attach any blame to us. By making various 

 inquiries along the way. I was assured of what 

 I had previously known, that foul brood is rag- 

 ing pretty badly in Wayne Co., Mich. There 

 are but very few bee-keepers whose apiaries, I 

 understand, are entirely free from it, and the 

 owners of these are fearful that it may get a 

 foothold in their yards at any time. 



Well, I mounted the wheel again, and by 

 about five o'clock I was wheeling through the 

 streets of Detroit. I asked wheelmen along the 

 way if they could tell me the best route out of 

 the city te Bell Branch. None of them had 

 ever heard of such a place. Bell Branch, as 



you know, is the place where M. H. Hunt lives. 

 "Well," thought I, " there is a class of indi- 

 viduals (hotel clerks) who know every thing, 

 or are supposed to, and I can get the desired 

 information of one of them." I wheeled up to 

 one of tlie finest hotels, and fired the same ques- 

 tion at the clerk, but with the same result as 

 with the wheelmen. Inquiry at several of the 

 hotels elicited no further Information. I final- 

 ly found by the map that Bell Branch was 

 directly west of Detroit. Approaching the 

 nearest policeman, I said, " Wliat street runs 

 the nearest west out of the city?" 



I was referred to Michigan Avenue. 



" Now," thought I, •' if I but wheel clear out 

 of the city, and then make inquiries concerning 

 Bell Branch, I shall find somebody who knows 

 about the place." 



But it was then late, as I had spent nearly 

 two hours in trying to get the desired informa- 

 tion. I accordingly put up at the hotel. The 

 next morning I was on the outskirts of the city 

 bright and early, and, sure enough, somebody 

 did know something about Bell Branch; but I 

 was, of course, on the wrong road. I ought to 

 have gone out on Grand River Avenue, and the 

 only way to get there was to go back to the 

 city three or four miles, and out again on the 

 right road. Well, to make a long story short, 

 by taking cross-roads, and making inquiry of 

 every one I met, I finally readied Bell Branch; 

 but I had gone some sixteen miles out of my 

 way, and through a lot of sand at that. 



While I was wandering over the road, and 

 especially when I learned that I might have 

 taken a shorter cut had I gone some other way, 

 I realized v/hat a mistake I had made in not 

 writing to Mr. Hunt beforehand, asking the 

 route I should have taken out of the city. But 

 I got it into my head that Bell Branch was 

 almost a suburb of Detroit, and that every one 

 would know the route. It is bad enough to 

 wheel in the sand; but it is simply ow/wi to 

 plow through that article knowing you have 

 gone out of your way, and were doing all that 

 work for nothing, besides wasting valuable 

 time. 



I found friend Hunt at home, ready to receive 

 me, as I had written I would be there the day 

 previous; and I would have been there had I 

 taken the right route. Yes, there was the gas- 

 well that had been giving Mr. Hunt comfort 

 and delight — plenty of heat for the cook-stove, 

 and beautiful bright gaslights, all for nothing 

 — absolutely nothing — except the cost of boring 

 some 80 feet and piping it. This part was done 

 by Mr. Hunt and son more for the /an than for 

 the expense saved. As if nature had not done 

 enough, his farm was supplying him with a 

 flowing well of water that actually came to the 

 surface of the ground, and soft water at that. 

 But this flowing well is in a valley, and Mr. 

 Hunt had just put up a windmill to bring this 

 water up to the house. 



