776 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Oct. 15. 



ly I was induced to give up my project until 

 summertime, when it would be tolerably warm 

 weather, even away up amid the clouds. How- 

 ever, Jess and I (that is what I call my brother) 

 planned one day to drive the pony about ten or 

 twelve miles in the direction of the mountain. 

 Now, although it looked as if we might ivttlk to 

 its base in one afternoon. I was told that it was 

 fifty miles away, and that it was fifty miles 

 more uphill to reach the summit. As there was 

 no beaten ti'ail further than somewhere near 

 the base, and none at all around and up the 

 mountain, first one way and then another, to 

 find an accessible path to the summit, we 

 should have been obliged to carry provision 

 and blankets, and feed for the horses for several 

 days. Imagine how surprised, then, to find 

 that, after we had gone ten or twelve miles 

 toward it, the old mountain looked a good deal 

 nearer than I expected,, and ever so much more 

 fascinating. Our good friend with whom we 

 took our dinner, who had i)ushed an alfalfa 

 ranch away off there alone by himself, declared 

 that it was not more than 25 miles from where 

 he lived. I was just reckless enough then to 

 want to push off alone without provisions, 

 water, or any thing else: hut I knew it was not 

 wisdom. But in the last few days I have been 

 speculating as to whether my trusty wheel 

 would not skim over the sands of the desert. 

 If not. I want one made specially with a wide 

 pneumatic tire — one that would operate some- 

 thing like snowshoes. Then you see I could 

 make up my budget and spin off by myself and 

 exjDlore these hidden wonders, and get back to 

 civilization before I — perished. I told my 

 brother's folks when I bid good-by to Tcmipe, 

 that I was leaving a great part of my affections 

 there. When they began to look pleased, how- 

 ever. I told them that, much as I felt attached 

 to that little family circle of relatives, to tell 

 the plain truth said affections were hanging 

 about old Superstition. Besides this mountain, 

 the good old minister I have mentioned gave 

 me a history of the wonderful country" out 

 toward Flagstaff, where we find the real Grand 

 Canyon of the Colorado. There were cliffs 

 there where you could look a mile sti'aight 

 down beneath your feet: and there is a natural 

 bridge so large "that there is a whole farm right 

 on the top of it. Somebody said an old farmer 

 had lived there all his life without knowing he 

 lived on a bridge at all. But I think there 

 must be a little exaggeration about it. for there 

 is a hole down through in one place where you 

 can look through and see the river below. Be- 

 sides, there are springs there more wonderful 

 than are to be found anywhere else on the face 

 of the earth. A railroad is now in process of 

 construction from PhaMiix toPrescott, and then 

 we can get somewhere without being in dan- 

 ger of perishing from want of food and drink. 

 Now. if my ideas are wrong in regard to this 

 wonderful Arizona region, perhaps some of our 

 readers who live there will kindly straighten 

 me out; but I do think it is too bad to liv(i in a 

 world so full of wonders, and find so many peo- 

 ple who never knew any thing about it at all. 

 It makes me think of the time of Columbus, 

 when he was almost the only chap who had en- 

 thusiasm enough to explore the great unknown 

 seas. By the way, do you know it is almost the 

 400th anniversary of the wonderful exploit of 

 that intrepid adventurer? Ohl but I should 

 just like to take Columbus by the hand and tell 

 him how much I love and revere his name. If 

 I just had him to help, but looiddn't we just 

 explore old Superstition! Now, if you think I 

 am telling yarns go and get your big map of 

 Arizona, and see that great expanse of country 

 covered by the title of "Superstition Moun- 

 tains." 



OURSELVES AND OUR NEIGHBORS. 



In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till 

 tliou return unto the ground.— Gen. 3 : 19. 



The friends may remember that I had some- 

 thing on this text in a brief editorial in the last 

 issue. But it is in a different line that I wish 

 to speak just now. It is something that has 

 been pressing itself on me for some time back, 

 and yet I have neglected it and put it off. I 

 have put it oft' because, if I take it up, I shall 

 say something that will come nearer speaking 

 ill of my neighbors than any thing, perhaps, I 

 have said previously. It may seem so. and yet 

 I wish to have it understood that I feel mysdlf 

 to blame: in fact. I try to believe that the 

 larger part of the fault" rests on "oiu'selves" 

 instead of "our neighbors." I presume it is 

 very likely that I have inherited a strong ten- 

 dency to be uncharitable. My good old father 

 was all his life demanding justice. He de- 

 manded, or. at least, he was inclined to demand, 

 that his neighbors be just, honest, and fair; 

 yes, and I fear he often felt inclined to demand 

 that his neighbors be industrious and prudent; 

 and as I grow oMer I find myself strongly in- 

 clined to get into the same I'ut. He worked 

 hard for a living, and to bring up his large 

 family; and when others about him did not 

 work hard, and did not propos*! to do so. it was 

 his natural disposition to wish to make them do 

 so. If they transgressed the law. even in any 

 little particular, his disposition was to demand 

 that they pay the penalty. Some of you may 

 say that this is right; but, dear friend, let me 

 caution you about going out into the world 

 demanding your full rights as you look at 

 things, and full justice according X,oyoxir point 

 of view. You will be everlastingly in trouble. 

 Let us now drop this part of it for just a mo- 

 ment. 



For a good wliile back my dear wife has been 

 saying that I give too much the bright side of 

 things to my readers, especially in my eft'orts 

 to show them how to get a living, and to make 

 money. She insists that I have given too much 

 prominence to the pleasant things about mar- 

 ket-gardening and intensive gardening, and 

 that I have not said enough about the discour- 

 agements and difficulties ; and particularly has 

 she urged that 1 should say more clearly and 

 plainly than I have yet said, that it is next to 

 impossibles to make market-gardening, garden- 

 ing under glass, or any of these kindred indus- 

 tries, i)roHtable, where one expects to hire every 

 thing done, and do little or nothing himself in 

 the way of manual labor. And, come to think 

 of it, the successful men who cultivate the soil, 

 raise berries, or fruit of any kind, are almost 

 always tho.se who do the greater part of the 

 work themselves, or with the help of their chil- 

 dren, or, at any events, work right along with 

 their men. There may be those who run a 

 store or factory, and at the same time make it 

 pay to raise crops entirely by the aid of hired 

 help; but my impression is. that, if there are 

 those who make a steady profit year after year 

 in this way. they either have better "neigh- 

 bors" than I have or than I have been able to 

 find anywhere. May God help me from being 

 uncharitable, or falling into a fault-finding and 

 complaining spirit when I give to you in detail 

 some of the difficulties in the way of making 

 both _ends meet with hired help. My impres- 

 sion is. that it is more difficult to make farming 

 and gordc/iiJi;/ pay with hired help than it is 

 to succeed in the various kinds of manufactur- 

 ing business. If farming and gardening con- 

 sisted in raising some special crop, as friend 

 Terry does, a great part of the ditficulties would 



