1S'.)7 



(M.ivAxixos IN ri-:k cn/ruRK. 



slatted covering overhe;ul. Tliev will not 

 eiiihire a low temperature, neither can they 

 stand the hot sun ; hut with this amount of 

 shade we have disco\-ered they do nicely, as 

 vt)u see." 



Oh how I did want one of thos.^ beautiful 

 plants I Rut it would he expensive to get it 

 home, and then I am afraid it would never be 

 cared for ami,! the rush of business round 

 about the Home of the Hon.y-bees. 



Oh, dear me ! after going all the way to 

 I'hiladelphia, and taking a whole we,;k at 

 that, I was admonished that, if I carried 

 out my program, there was only about ten 

 minutes left before train time. Our guide 

 replied : 



" Oh I but you i//!/s/ taka a glimpse at the 

 acpiatic plants, if nothing more." 



And then we went down hill a little piece 

 where there used to be an uglj- swamp or 

 quagmire. Mr. Dreer had spaded out several 

 square water-beds, and made walks between 

 them on solid ground. Instead of a garden 

 with raised beds, we had h 're a garden with 

 sunken beds ; and in these beds w-as every 

 variety of water-plants, such as water-lilies — 

 (so I should call them ) — in full bloom, almost 

 as large as a dinner-plate, and of almost all 

 colors. Some of them had great green leaves 

 floating on the surface of the water, as large 

 as a small umbrella ; and the / 'ictoria regia 

 had the edges of the leaf all turned up some- 

 thing like the edge of a jelly-tin, to keep the 

 water from running over on top of the leaf ; 

 and this arrangement makes the leaf so buoy- 

 ant that a young lady has safely stood on it 

 without sinking. 



I believe H. A. Dreer has the reputation of 

 standing at the head of all growers of exotic 

 plants in the United States ; and in some 

 respects I am inclined to think his glass 

 structures are not excelled if equaled by those 

 of any other man on the face of the earth. 



MV PICKLE STORY. 



Some time in the month of August I had 

 been feeling that I must have a wheelride ; so 

 I arranged business for an absence of two days. 

 But the Weather Bureau and barometer both 

 said rain. In fact, it had rained a little — just 

 enough to lay the dust; but it was cloudy, and 

 the air cool, so I decided to start out and take 

 the consequences. I got about lo miles from 

 home, and was enjoying myself hugely, sing- 

 ing, as I bowled along. 



Praise Cod, from whom all ble.ssings flow. 



I changed my course a little to dodge the 

 thunder-clouds ; but it looked to me as if the 

 thunder-clouds changed their course also. I 

 was obliged to seek shelter once, then twice, 

 and I began to meditate going back home. 

 But the soil changed, and there was not very 

 much mud. Then I came to a muddy streak, 

 and became pretty nearly discouraged ; but I 

 got through it, and was congratulating myself 

 that I was all right after all. Finally I came 

 to a spot of very tenacious claj-. The road 

 had recently been worked clear over from one 

 ditch to the other. There was not a chance 

 to pick my way on either side ; and the grass 



up l)y the fences was soaking wet, and nearlj- 

 two feet high. The wheel would have to go 

 in the road or not at all. I got about half 

 way through the bad spot, and final Iv the 

 mud began to pile up; and so nuich collected 

 on the frame I could scarcely j)usli it ; and 

 when I essayed to walk, my bicycle shoes 

 went down almost over their tops. I could 

 neither go backward nor forw u'd ; and, in 

 fact, I was in a "pickle." An<l this is the first 

 part of my ])ickle story. ■ 



Some distance ahead a railroad crossed my 

 road. I knew if I could reach that railway 'l 

 could ride after a fashion between the rails. 

 I managed to get out of this "Slough of 

 Despond;" but by the time my wheel was 

 cleaned off from that sticky clay, it was get- 

 ting to be about supper-time; and the amount 

 of strength I had expended in trying to force 

 my way through and out of the niud'made me 

 about ready for supper, you may be sure. I 

 got on along the railway track verv nicely, 

 and soon arrived at the little town of Sniith- 

 ville, Wayne Co., O. While I was eating m}^ 

 supper — that is, after my hunger was partly 

 appeased— I noticed the' people at the table 

 were talking about pickles, and I was just 

 thinking I might tell them something of one 

 "pickle" that came in my experience that 

 afternoon. Then they began discussing bushel 

 boxes. vSomebod}' said : 



"Well, now, you may be pretty si*re that 

 Root's bushel box is all right. ' He is too 

 careful a man to go ahead and make them by 

 the carload unless he has them exactly right'; 

 and I tell you his box will stand law — vou 

 may be sure of that." 



" I wonder how much business the Roots 

 are doing this year, any way," said another. 

 And then followed some other remarks that 

 made me think I had better show mv colors. 

 Said I : 



"Look here, friends; before vou go anv 

 further perhaps I had better tell you that'l 

 am one of the Roots myself; and if I can help 

 you in regard to the matter of the size of the 

 bushel boxes, or any thing else, I am gladlv 

 at your service, esp'ecially since I have had 

 such a nice supper." 



Well, they were very glad to see me indeed; 

 and when I told them I thought I had better 

 stay over night they wanted me to go over 

 and see their new pickle-factory. A great 

 building has been erected. In fact, the whole 

 thing was started since April. A great pickle 

 combine in Cincinnati had volunteered to 

 build a factory, equip it, and furnish a com- 

 petent manager, providing the farmers round 

 about vSmithville would guarantee to grow 

 500 acres of pickles. The company agreed to 

 pay said farmers 40 cts. a bushel for pickles 

 not exceeding .'5>^ inches in length. .All that 

 were permitted to grow more than ?>>^ inches 

 in length were to be sold for 12>^ cts. abu.shel. 



Now, so far the contract was very pleasant ; 

 but before the company would go to work to 



♦Constance accuses me of doing reckless things 

 when off on my wheel — getting lost, and the like, in 

 order that I may meet with spicv adventures. If .she 

 is right, I had found what I wanted this time, sure, 

 for this adventure included spice, and a pirklc besides. 



