8-8 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Dec. 1. 



NOTES OF TRAVLL 



I BY A.I.ROOT. 



BACK AGAIN OVER THE MOUNTAIN DIVIDE. 



The weather is extremely hot in the valleys 

 of Montana ; and it really looks funny to see 

 the thermometer between 95 and 100, when 

 right over the tops of the buildings you see 

 patches of snow apparently only a little way 

 off. During the afternoon, especially about 

 the time I wheeled over to the fish-hatchery, 

 the temperature was pretty high, and riding 

 uphill was rather warm work. I knew it 

 would take me pretty much all of the next 

 forenoon to reach the top of the divide on my 

 way back home — that is, if I waited for break- 

 fast-time at the hotels ; therefore, during the 

 evening I went around to the different res- 

 taurants and asked if they could give me a 

 breakfast by daylight in the morning. None 

 of them wanted to get up so early. But I had 

 laid my plans to climb those mountains in the 

 cool of the morning, and I did not propose to 

 be baffled. I ordered a nice beefsteak and 

 some toast. In fact, I had them fix up a nice 

 breakfast for me the night before. Then I 

 started off next morning ( with my breakfast 

 tied to my handle-bar) just as soon as it was 

 light enough to keep the road. My way into 

 the town the day before was a good deal 

 roundabout ; but the clerk at the hotel told 

 me there was a shorter cut along the railroad, 

 but I would have to open a few gates before I 

 got into the mountains. There is one trouble 

 about riding so early where you are on strange 

 ground — you do not see anybody to make 

 inquiries of. Well, as usual I got off the 

 trail. The houses became scarcer, and the 

 road dwindled down until there was none. 

 Finally I ventured to wake some people up. 

 By the way, I wonder if it is the fashion in 

 Montana for the people to do a great part of 

 their sleeping after daylight. I reluctantly 

 awakened one man, and was told that I was 

 off from the track on an old deserted trail 

 through the mountains ; that it was consider- 

 ably traveled a number of years ago, but now 

 abandoned. He said I could get through, but 

 he rather advised me to turn and go back 

 several miles. I did not like to go back, and 

 so I pushed ahead. He said there was one 

 more house som.e distance on, and then I 

 should have about eight miles through the 

 wilderness. When I arrived at that last house 

 I was ready for my breakfast of beefsteak and 

 toast. An old gentleman was just starting 

 out to work in the fields; but my breakfast 

 seemed rather dry, so I asked him to make 

 me a cup of coffee. Now, may be you would 

 not believe it ; but my old friend made me 

 about the nicest coffee I ever tasted ; and he 

 had some genuine "mountain cream " to go 

 with it. He would not think of making any 

 charge for his trouble ; but as his little home 

 seemed to be exceedingly humble I insisted 

 on leaving a quarter beside my plate; and he 

 seemed quite pleased that I appreciated his 



particular plan of making coffee. Then began 

 my lonely and tiresome climb. It was some- 

 what tiresome, but I assure you I enjoyed it 

 for all that. This range of mountains is pe- 

 culiar from the fact that little rills of running 

 water are found at least every half-mile. I 

 presume the water comes from the melting 

 snows higher up, as it is most deliciously cool 

 and soft. Of course, I did not run my wheel 

 very much, only as it happened to be down 

 hill or nearly level. The old bridges across 

 these spring runs were rotted and gone, and 

 this made it a little more laborious. After I 

 had toiled on for what I thought to be about 

 fen miles I said to myself, "Well, now I am 

 coming to where it is inhabited, sure, for there 

 is a whole flock of chickens that belong to 

 somebody." Then I wondered that a farmer 

 away out in those mountain wilds should keep 

 a new breed of chickens that were handsomer 

 than any thing else I had ever seen or heard 

 of in any of the poultry-journals. I walked 

 right up to the flock to admire them better. 

 The male straightened up and challenged my 

 approach, much as they do in a barnyard. 

 Then I noticed that the hens had a peculiar 

 but very beautiful topknot. After I had 

 studied them quite a little spell, to my sur- 

 prise (at a signal from the whole flock) they 

 took wing and sailed gracefully away. Even 

 then I said to myself, "Why, how that fel- 

 low's chickens do fly when they are a little 

 frightened ! " Then it occurred to me that I 

 had blundered into a big flock of wild birds. 

 I wonder if some hunter can tell me what 

 they were. The shape of their bodies and the 

 carriage of their heads was a little more like 

 some breeds of game fowls. A little further 

 on, from the crest of the mountain, I saw the 

 railroad down below me, and a town called 

 Timberline — I suppose so named because the 

 timber grows only sparsely above that eleva- 

 tion. Then I had fun in following a sheep- 

 path from the top of the mountain through its 

 winding course down to Timberline ; and the 

 rest of the way I had a very good road back 

 to Livingston. 



MINNEAPOLIS AND VICINITY. 



I had promised my good friends the Acklins 

 that, if an opportunity presented, I would 

 make them a call on my way home. Now, 

 the railroad passes very near their house, a 

 mile or more before reaching St. Paul. I was 

 looking out of the window and saw their 

 home, and was a little surprised to see the 

 train slack up at just about that point ; and 

 when it promised to stop entirely I took my 

 grip in my hand and stepped off the train. I 

 was a little curious to know why they stopped 

 right out in the fields. Pretty soon I found 

 out. The conductor had alighted from the 

 train about the time I did, or a little sooner, 

 and I saw him chasing a crowd of boys. By 

 the way they were cursing and swearing I 

 presume there was some mischief afloat. By 

 and by the conductor returned, pulling a boy 

 along by the collar. The boy was kicking 

 and swearing and fighting but nevertheless 

 the conductor had him prisoner. I did not 

 learn whether these street Arabs were stoning 

 the passenger train, or what it was ; but Mrs. 



