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GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Dec. 15. 



NOTES OF BICYCLE TRAVEL. 



AT BROWNTOWN, WIS. 



By Ernest R. Boot. 



My wheel-trip westward and northward from 

 the home of Dr. Miller, some 150 miles, was dry 

 and uneventful. It is sufficient to say, the 

 Wisconsin roads and hills were rather more 

 than I bargained for; and when I reached 

 Browntown, Wis., along in the afternoon, I was 

 more tired than I had been at any time on the 

 trip. Just before reaching Browntown, how- 

 ever, I was afraid I might pass a bee-keeper 

 and make it necessary to retrace 

 my path. Down the road a piece 

 was a man in a buggy. " Suppose 

 he should be a bee-keeper," 

 thought I. Although I was toler- 

 ably certain that I was on the 

 right road, on reaching him I 

 fired this question— not so much 

 for its answer as to prepare the 

 way for further questions: 



" Is this the right road to Brown- 

 town?" 

 "Yes, sir." 



" Do you know any bee-keepers 

 by the name of Reed or Lathrop ?" 

 "My name is Reed." 

 "J. H. Reed?" 

 "Yes, sir." 



" Well, I was looking for you, 

 and, although I had never seen 

 you, I was afraid I might pass by 

 you," said I. "I should have 

 been sorry not to see you, inas- 

 much as I have known you for 

 several years by correspondence." 

 Mr. Reed then remarked that 

 we sometimes have presentiments, 

 and that perhaps this was one. 

 We stopped, and chatted along 

 the roadside for perhaps half an 

 hour, during which time I learned 

 that my friend, besides the mis- 

 fortune of discovering foul brood 

 in his apiary, and no honey, had 

 met with the loss of an adopted 

 son, who had been kidnapped. 

 Mr. Reed was too full of trouble 

 to talk very much about bees. I tried to con- 

 sole him as best I could, and then went on, 

 leaving him to go back on the road some eight 

 or nine miles over the road over which I had 

 come, to his own home and yard. Just as I 

 pulled out of the woods and rounded the cor- 

 ner, a beautiful valley lay stretched out before 

 me, with a lakelet to one side. This indeed 

 looked like a beautiful bee country, for it was 

 through this section that the great basswood 

 belt of Wisconsin runs. 



In a few minutes more I stood before the 

 station at Browntown. I inquired for Mr. 



Harry Lathrop, who, I was told, was station- 

 master there. On making known ray identity 

 he could hardly believe his eyes, for he had not 

 expected any one from Medina. Of course, as 

 usual I was in a hurry. It being about 3 

 o'clock, Mr. Lathrop kindly made the most of 

 the time at my disposal, until li o'clock that 

 evening. 



Before going further, I wish lo explain that 

 Mr. Lathrop is one who has written a number 

 of times for Gleanings. His apiary, we illus- 

 trated in Gleanings, page 60S, current volume. 

 You will remember that there was there illus- 



HARKY LATHROP. 



trated a sort of dug-out, or bee-cave, where Mr. 

 Lathrop wintered his bees successfully for a 

 number of years. He is an enthusiastic bee- 

 keeper and wheelman, and, like myself, is in- 

 terested in Sunday-school work; and somehow 

 my heart knit to his as if he had been an own 

 brother, and that from the brief acquaintanct 

 of only a few hours. Well, now let me intro- 

 duce you to him. 



Mr. Lathrop was born in Milwaukee, Wis. 

 March (>, 1856. At an early age he entered th€ 

 railroad service at Mazomanie, Wis., and latei 

 took charge of the station at Prairie du Sac. 



