916 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Dec. L 



gather, the man who wrote me the letter lived 

 at B'ro7('?iin(7fo7i. on the road to Lebanon; and 

 I felt as though I did not dare to take another 

 hour, else I should not be able to reach my des- 

 tination Saturday night. At Browlngton I 

 found a Mr. Stevenson who was a bee-keeper; 

 but lie did not write the letter. Perhaps I may 

 explain now, that, when I got thi'ough, I palled 

 the letter out of that pocket, and was greatly 

 chagrined to find that it was from the friend of 

 Mr. Hess, whose home I passed in the night 

 about the time of my fall, and whom I missed 

 once more because he happened to stay away 

 from the regular prayer-meeting just one 

 night.* How queerly do things sometimes turn 

 out! 



In order to save time I wanted to take a bee- 

 line across the country, to Lebanon. But men 

 who had been over the road shook their heads; 

 and just as I was starting wrong somebody 

 told me there was a great river ahead, with no 

 bridges. When I came into the beautiful little 

 place of Osceola, the county seat of St. Clair 

 Co., I found the Osage River large enough to 

 carry a good-sized steamboat. I felt a little 

 glad I had listened to the advice of those who 

 knew what they were talking about. 



At about this point I began to be greatly 

 pleased to discover I could lie down and take 

 a nap right before an open window, even with 

 a strong breeze blowing right in my face. The 

 outdoor exercise had so far cured me of chills 

 and every thing of that kind that I often slept 

 thus for half an hour. c(yvered with perspira- 

 tion, right in my shirt-sleeves, and with my 

 head uncovered. 



In many of the country places where I stop- 

 ped, the people were in poor and humble ci>-- 

 cumstances. At one point there was a little 

 rain— enough so I stopped and chatted with an 

 old lady who was spinning with an old-fashion- 

 ed spinning-wheel. I was in a hurry to go on, 

 but she said she thought I would get wet. I 

 suggested that I could find a house on the road 

 if it rained very hard. She replied, however, 

 that I would not pass another house on the 

 road till I had gone about seven miles. A little 

 explanation may be necessary here. The roads 

 through those Ozark Mountains are mostly on 

 the ridges, unless it becomes necessary to cross 

 a stream. Well, although the ridge is the best 

 place for a road, it is not the best place for 

 farming, and accordingly farms are from a 

 quarter of a mile to a whole mile off the road 

 and down in the valleys. You can not see the 

 houses, because the road crooks around through 

 the scrub-oak, and is oftentimes little more 

 than a cowpath. ^ 



After I left Osceola, people were greatly sur- 

 prised to see a man on a wheel. If somebody 

 happened to look out of the window and see 

 me, I usually discovered, by looking back, that 

 the whole family were out by the road watch- 

 ing me until I was out of sight. The horses, 

 cattle, and other domestic animals, were also 

 greatly frightened by the wheel. The cows 

 (and mules too) generally have a cowbell on 

 the leader of the herd. Well, every little while 

 a whole drove of horses or cattle, or sometimes 

 both, would break into a regular stampede, 

 and go oil down into the valley, as if they had 

 seen an apparition. I could judge of the rapid- 



* How many times I have regretted giving way to 

 the temptation of tlio moment, and aDsentiiig my- 

 selt from pniycr-iin'i-ting! and how often, wlicu T 

 haven//;i().s( d('ci<i(>(l not to g-o, somethinfr lias h;ip- 

 pened that I would not h:i,ve missed for almost any 

 tlunM-iii thewoild: but 1 can not lemember in ail 

 my exi)L',rienc(; that I ever resretted going-; and it is 

 a little singular, too, to think how many ble.ssing-s, 

 sometiiiies strange and unexiiected ones, have come 

 to my heart in prayer-meeting-. 



ity of their movements, and the distance they 

 went, by the demoralized jingling of the cow- 

 bells. When I got further out into the region 

 where there were no railroads, it was almost 

 impossible to pass a team without dismounting, 

 they were so liable to become unmanageable. 

 In these wild roads, riding horseback is the 

 most common; but although the riders often 

 assured me pleasantly that they could manage 

 their steeds, urging me to go ahead, I'generally 

 had to dismount. I remember that, at one- 

 place, where I finally succeeded in passing a 

 team, a little yellow dog was following behind 

 the wagon; but when he caught sight of me he- 

 turned, and ran and ran as if he thought the 

 whole of pandemonium was coming. Finally 

 he decided to stop and take another look; but 

 this second look, however, seemed to be worse 

 than the first, for he ran until he came to a 

 cross-road, and then up the cross-road he went 

 as if possessed. The last I saw of him he was 

 peering over the top of a hill to see if I were 

 safely out of sight. 



I tell you, there is a wonderful contrast where 

 you go through a country where the people and 

 animals have become somewhat accustomed to 

 wheeling. Well, through this wilderness I did 

 not always find places for sleeping and eating, 

 such as I had been accustomed to. Now, I am 

 not complaining, mind you; for these good, 

 people tendered me the best they had, and 

 oftentimes refused to take any recompense un- 

 less I tendered it to the children. VVhen lex- 

 plained at one place that I needed a little rest, 

 and would like to lie down a few minutes, the- 

 good woman said I would have to climb a lad- 

 der to get into the loft. I asked permission to- 

 raise the window, for I can seldom sleep with- 

 out a great plenty of air. She replied. "Oh! 

 you won't need to hist any winder, stranger. I 

 reckon you'll find all the air you need, without 

 any of that." 



Sure enough, the holes through the shingles 

 and siding were so numerous I was quite happy 

 in that respect, without any trouble on my part^ 

 One afternoon, however, I longed for a nice 

 clean room, and for a meal of victuals where 

 dishes and food would be so clean that 1 would 

 not be sickened by tlie sight, taste, or smell. 

 Now, this is all the complaining I am going to- 

 do in this line. Had I not wandered oft' into 

 regions wheie people seldom go, and where 

 good hotels would not pay expenses, I presume 

 I should have never needed to use such a sen- 

 tence. Well, when I came to the pretty little 

 town of Wheatland I found just what I had 

 longed for. A neat-looking building in the 

 edge of the town attracted me, for it had a sign 

 up as hotel. The building was well painted,, 

 and clean. The porch in front was clean. A 

 pleasant, well-dressed young woman answered 

 my summons. She gave me a room where I 

 could lie down for my nap. with spotless-looking 

 bedding, window-curtains, and every thing in 

 keeping. She opened three windows to give 

 me plenty of air; and she gave me a lunch 

 after my nap, that, while it was not expensive, 

 made me feel happy and thankful. The table- 

 cloth was clean aiid whole. The dishes were 

 not cracked, and they were as free from dust 

 and dirt as they are in my own home. Last, 

 and not least, there was an air of gentility and 

 refinement and culture that was as refreshing 

 as the drink of pure water that I got from that 

 first artesian well. O woman! do you realize 

 how much it is in your power to make this 

 world of ours a very garden of Eden to the tired 

 and thirsty soul, instead of a wilderness of dis- 

 order, filth, and woe? 



At Wheatland I made some inquiries in re- 

 gard to my best route to Lebanon. The lady 

 of the hotel told me to hunt up Dr. Fisher, as 



