606 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Aug. 15. 



ON THE WHEEL AMONG THE POTATO- 

 GROWERS. 



On the next to the last day of July I started 

 off to visit a relative about thirty miles away. 

 Our l)oy Huber, fourteen years old, rather 

 thouijht he could keep up wifli me on the 

 wheel, and so he proposed to go along. When 

 about half a mile from home I stopped to see 

 my mother, who is living with my youngest 

 sister; and finally two of my sister's children, 

 aged respectively thirteen and sixteen, decided 

 to make two of the party provided I would go 

 slowly and rest often. Come to think of it, I 

 guess it was the mother who enjoined the 

 above conditions in case they went along with 

 Uncle Amos. Neither of the girls had ridden 

 a wheel more than two months; but they put 

 off in fine spirits, notwithstanding the warm 

 July weather. 



When about ten miles from home I proposed 

 a little ' ' rest in the shade while we tried some 

 lemonade." Now, that rhymed itself — you 

 must not lay it to me. When we were seven- 

 teen miles 'from home I told the children it 

 was time for my forenoon nap. We were near 

 Fairlawm, a place where I often stop for rest 

 and refreshment. The good people there 

 promised to have dinner ready by the time I 

 woke up, and all together I managed to get 

 the children to rest nearly an hour. 



A little fv:rther along we stopped at Mr. 

 Miller's, where they grew those beautiful cold- 

 frame cabbage-plants last fall. The Wake- 

 field cabbages were all sold, but they were 

 jtist carrying into the cit}- of Akron great 

 beautiful heads of Early Summer by the 

 wagon -load. There seemed to be quite a dis- 

 crepancy between the prices we get for cab- 

 bage on our market-wagon and the price paid 

 by the largest wholesale grocer in Akron. 

 They said their finst Wakefields brought them 

 60 cts. a dozen, but they finally got down to 

 30 cts. His great heads of Early Summer, 

 weighing from 4 to 8 lbs. apiece, brought only 

 2>^ cts. by the wagon-load. Now, the price 

 that we receive at retail is from 10 to 20 cts. 

 apiece; but this large wholesale dealer paj^s, 

 sa}', 2>4 cts. a head. He turns them over to 

 the retail grocer at perhaps 4 or .5 cts. The 

 retail grocer trims off some of the leaves so as 

 to keep them looking nice and fresh, thus 

 reducing the weight, and sends them all over 

 the city to his customers (you know it is the 

 fashion to deliver goods nowadays, even if it 

 is only a spool of thread or a paper of pins), 

 and gets 10 cts. a head. Now, it looks as if 

 there were pretty good profits here, and I con- 

 fess I think so still. But, dear friends, you 

 have yoiir choice. Those who grow the cab- 

 bages can run a wagon to the consumer, and 

 deliver them direct, and get the big prices; 

 and the consumer can, if he chooses, get ac- 

 quainted with the gardener, and go or send 



right to the grower and cut short the profits 

 of the middleman. We all know this; but, 

 notwithstanding, where a man grows cabbages 

 by the acre he sooner or later prefers to sell 

 them to somebody who will take the whole lot 

 right off his hands, and let him go to work 

 raising another crop where the cabbages grew. 



A little further along I stopped at the At- 

 wood celery-farm. Mr. Atwood sa^-s his 

 ground does not produce celery as well as it 

 did years ago; and he thinks even muck land 

 does better under some system of rotation. I 

 found him and his men in the bunch-onion 

 business. They have a fine crop of Southport 

 White Globe onions, and they are putting 

 three onions in a bunch, said onions being 

 from the size of a hen's egg up to that of a 

 small-sized goose egg. Such bunches retail 

 for a nickel; but the man who grows them by 

 the acre is glad to have them taken off his 

 hands in quantities at oh/v a cent a bunch. It 

 is the same with cabbages. The middleman 

 who consents to take these perishable goods 

 by the wagonload must have a margin so he 

 can deliver them at a low price to the retail 

 grocer. The latter must have a profit, so that 

 at times when they do not go off readily he 

 can sell three bunches for a dime, or two for a 

 nickel, when Mxey begin to get a little old. 



Mr. Atwood thinks that onions do finely 

 after celery; and I suppose that, after growing 

 onions for a while, the celery will be all right 

 again. 



While I talked cabbages and onions the 

 children enjoyed themselves in exploring the 

 gardens and grounds; and when I reached my 

 cousin's farm, where Huber's cyclometer reg- 

 istered just 31 miles from our starting-point, 

 the children felt so well that the two older 

 ones declared they could turn right round and 

 go back home before dark, and just enjoy the 

 fun of it. I told them, however, they would 

 do well if they made the trip after a good 

 night's rest. 



As our stopping-place was only three miles 

 from Mogadore, Summit Co., O., my old 

 boyhood home, we proposed to visit over there 

 after supper. The children suggested taking 

 their wheels; but I thought the}- had had 

 wheeling enough that day. Mr. Wolf furnish- 

 ed us a big stout horse and surrey; and with 

 his two children (a boy of twelve and a girl of 

 seventeen) we had a merry party, I assure 

 you. I presume the good people who lived in 

 the cottage on the hill were somewhat surpris- 

 ed to see such a crowd marching into their 

 quiet dooryard; but after I informed the good 

 lady, that about fifty years ago my grandfather 

 made my tnother a present of that home, and 

 that I lived there about 11 years during my 

 childhood, she very courteously invited us to 

 make ourselves at home all over the premises. 

 Old familiar landmarks met me on every side. 

 I walked around the octagon house, and 

 climbed down the steps on the gravelly hill- 

 side; admired the beets, vineless sweet pota- 

 toes, lima beans, and other vegetables that 

 still grew with such wonderful vigor on that 

 gravelly hillside; then I pushed open an un- 

 used gate. After some groping among the 

 bushes I found a well-remembered path, and 



