1894 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



955 



boy in the garden said they hadn't any sweet 

 milk, but he guessed he could get me a glass of 

 buttermilk. 



"All right, my friend," said I, "give me the 

 buttermilk," as I threw a coin on the table. 

 Now, although I am so much addicted to drink- 

 ing milk by the pitcherful, I never took very 

 kindly to buttermilk, and this was sour too. It 

 was a pretty critical time, however, and I could 

 not afford to be fastidious. The buttermilk 

 gave me strength, but not very much. Then 

 the road forked, and one part was traveled 

 about as much as the other. There was no 

 house in sight. I went a little way on one 

 branch, but felt so sure it was wrong I turned 

 and took the other. This other road dwindled 

 down until it became a mere cowpath, without 

 any sign of a wheel-track. Oh how I did long 

 to see somebody who could answer a brief 

 question ! By the way, how many times 

 flirough Missouri I would have given dollars 

 for a signboard! I am told that the boys have 

 a fashion of smashing them up as fast as the 

 authorities can put them up. Accordingly, the 

 boards they do put up are so cheap and ineffi- 

 cient that one can not read the lettering after a 

 good hard rain. 



I thought of Mrs. Root, ten miles away, 

 watching down the road for glimpses of myself 

 and wheel. Just before me was another steep 

 hill, up which the cowpath ran, with rocks and 

 stubs where the brush had been chopped off all 

 the way. But at the top I thought I saw a tow- 

 headed child running about at play. I toiled 

 laboriously to the top, but there was no child to 

 be seen. There was not even a glimpse of any 

 house of any kind— not even a fence. I was 

 alone in the wilderness. Once more that little 

 prayer came almost of itself— " Lord, help!" 

 and then 1 pushed on. It seemed from the 

 looks of things that this deserted road must 

 soon disappear entirely; but after that little 

 prayer my heart lightened in some way, and I 

 did not feel so much alone nor so much lost as 

 I did before. A little further, and what do you 

 think? My path came out into a beautiful, 

 -well-traveled, smooth road, and a company of 

 movers told me I was only three miles from 

 Lebanon. I was thirsty, hungry, and tired. I 

 made ud my mind that the first thing in the 

 shape of a hotel or restaurant would have to be 

 patronized, even though the minutes were get- 

 ting precious. Oh, yes! here it is. A bright, 

 clean-looking sign-board hung out right over 

 the sidewalk—" Farmers' Home." 



"My friend, how soon can I have some sup- 

 per?" . ^ 

 "This very minute, sir. In fact, we are ]ust 

 sitting down to supper." 



I explained to him that I wished to ride out 

 in the country about five miles before dark, and 

 I wished he would have my supper on the table 

 by the time I got washed. Let me explain that 

 Lebanon, Laclede Co., Mo., has quite a fame 

 for its magnetic and electric wells. I will tell 

 you more about them later. As I commenced 

 to wash I asked the clerk if that was the cele- 

 brated magnetic waters. He said it was. It 

 seemed about like the water from the spring I 

 had just left, and probably it is the same, al- 

 though they have drilled 1200 feet to reach the 

 vein. But, didn't I have a nice supper! Pull- 

 ing out a handful of change I said, "How 

 much?" 



As he said, "Twenty cents," I gave a whistle 

 and threw down a quarter. 



" Why. my dear sir, you probably did not 

 notice what an enormous supper I have eaten." 

 However, he handed me back a nickel, saying, 

 "I am very glad, sir, if your supper pleased 

 you; but our regular price is 20 cts., and I pre- 

 fer not to take any more. This is a farmers' 



hotel, and the farmers about here have been 

 having a pretty tough time. They get only 

 about 35 cts. a bushel for their corn and wheat, 

 and so you see these provisions do not cost us 

 very much. So we try to make prices so low 

 that, when they come to town, they will not 

 feel guilty if they invest in a good warm meal, 

 instead of bringing along a cold lunch." 



Now, who is it that says there are not any 

 good people left in the world? 



Well, I was ready for business once more; 

 but just as I got in the outskirts of the town, 

 and began to feel it would be dangerous to ride 

 in the darkness over those peculiar roads, a 

 fiery meteor blazed above my head, lighting 

 the landscape far and near. It was not a real 

 meteor, after all, but only the electric lights of 

 Lebanon. Although the town has ouly about 

 2000 inhabitants, the place is beautifully light- 

 ed by arc-lights suspended above the center of 

 the streets. After making half a mile by the 

 aid of the electric lights I began to feel chilly, 

 and remembered that ray woolen stockings 

 were in my hip-pocket instead of on my feet. 

 While sitting on the bank, putting them on, a 

 man passed along. I explained to him that I 

 was not a tramp, and got some better directions 

 how to reach my wife's brother's place. I rode 

 about a mile further, then left my trusty wheel 

 at a house by the roadside. I went on foot 

 about a mile, and. finding my strength giving 

 way, I began to long again for a little relief. 

 Hark ! Is that a buggy coming ? Sure enough, 

 it was. I stopped the driver and begged for a 

 ride. In a few minutes I was not a stranger, 

 for the driver's aunt used to keep bees and take 

 Gleanings, and he volunteered to carry me 

 right to my brother-in-law's door. But I was 

 getting chilly again. Remember, I was in my 

 shirtsleeves, without my underclothing, and 

 riding in an open buggy. There was nothing 

 to do but to get out and walk again, in order to 

 keep up the temperature. I was pretty well 

 rested, however, and it was only a mile to my 

 destination. 



Bv the time I was pretty well used up again, 

 the light of the house in question delighted my 

 eyes A sort of lane turned up toward the barn. 

 I concluded this would be a shorter cut than 

 going through the front gate. But I looked in 

 vain for some kind of gate or bars to let me 

 through the close barbed-wire fence. After I 

 had got on past the house, on my way to the 

 barn, I saw a figure at one of the windows, that 

 looked like Mrs. Root. I believe my heart be- 

 gan to beat about as fast as in years -gone by 

 before she became Mrs. Root. Now, she has 

 many times scolded me because I would try to 

 climb through wire fences. But I concluded to 

 disobey just once under the circumstances. 

 There was some sort of board fence back of the 

 barbed wire, and with much care and pains I 

 got to the top, and found the board fence so 

 ricketty that it would hardly hold my weight. 

 I picked my way among the sharp barbs, how- 

 ever, and got down on the other side, only to 

 find a similar fence right before me. I felt like 

 the man who said he had fallen over three 

 cradles in trying to get into his home after 

 dark, and there was another right before him. 

 But I finally got over the last fence, and then I 

 could not find any door to the house. Some- 

 body had a light in the back kitchen, and I 

 came up to the screen door. A nice young lady 

 had the lamp. I was not perfectly sure that it 

 was any of my relations, but I took the chances. 

 " Now, look here. How does a body get into 

 this house, any ivay, with all these wire fences, 

 rose-bushes, and ever so much other stuff in the 

 way ? " 



" O Uncle Amos! is this indeed yourself at 

 last?" 



