1899 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



225 



for complaint, here there was plenty of 

 moisture and prosperity, the people were well 

 clothed, appeared cheerful, and were happily 

 going to and returning from town in their 

 line chaises. 



Along with the occasional vehicle I met 

 what appeared in the distance to be an emi- 

 grant wagon, or one of those large wagons 

 with a white canvas cover, or what used to be 

 white, for its pristine whiteness was now 

 grimed with the dust of much travel. While 

 I was not giving much attention to it, but 

 more anxious to guide my own vehicle past it 

 in the sand, what was my astonishment to 

 have the occupant shout, " Hello there, 

 Rambler ! ' ' 



I dropped off my wheel as if I'd been shot. 

 "Well, well! Bill Greene, as I live!" I ex- 

 claimed; "wherein under the sun have you 

 been ? How did you get here, any way ? " 



" Why, don't you see? Two good cayuses 

 and a wagon. You see I am doing a little 

 rambling as well as yourself." 



Mr. Greene had formerly been a bee-keeper 

 in Southern California. Not being satisfied 

 with that portion of the country he had been 

 shifting from one locality to another ; and, 

 still evidently not satisfied, he was now on his 

 way south to spend his winter in some portion 

 of California. 



Mr. Greene was a natural born trader, and 

 had picked up quite a number of cases of 

 honey somewhere in his travels, and was ped- 

 dling it as he passed through the country, or, 

 as he remarked, " supplying the home de- 

 mand." When I first became acquainted with 

 Mr. Greene he was a happy bachelor living in 

 a tent not far from his apiary ; and though he 

 was always gentlemanly and respectful in 

 language and demeanor toward the fair sex, 

 he was so outspoken and firm respecting mar- 

 ried life that I always considered him an out- 

 and-out orthodox hard-shell bachelor. 



"Well," said I, " Bill Greene, what a pity 

 we are traveling in opposite directions. If we 

 bachelors could travel together we might have 

 more enjoyment out of the country." 



" That is so," said he, in an abstracted way. 

 "But, Rambler, you had better return with 

 us." (When he said us I thought he meant 

 himself and horses.) 



" No, Bill, I can't do that. I am bound for 

 Seattle." 



' ' But, Mr. Rambler, you are going into a 

 rainy country. I venture it is raining like 

 fury there now." 



"Can't help it, Bill ; I'm going to Seattle, 

 if it rains pitchforks." 



" But think of the mud, Mr. Rambler, and 

 you with a wheel." 



" Hang the mud, Bill; I'll go to Seattle if it 

 is knee-deep." 



"But think again, Mr. Rambler ; you will 

 have to pass through Portland, and the city is 

 full of all sorts of unmarried ladies." 



" My dear Bill, you worry me; but I'm going 

 to Seattle, if I have to spoil ten miles of apron- 

 strings. And now as you have been so kind 

 as to warn me I will try to return the compli- 

 ment. When you get to Klamathon you must 

 beware of an unmarried woman there. She is 



a spiritualist, and is looking out for her affin- 

 ity; and the trouble is, Bill, whenever a hand- 

 some man like you or me comes along she tries 

 to bamboozle him into being her affinity. 

 Now, Bill, don't you be bamboozled, don't 

 get tangled up in apron-strings. You see, 

 Bill, there is danger of getting unequally 

 yoked, as the Bible says, and then it will be 

 see-saw see-saw all the rest of your life, and 

 you will be very unhappy." 



While I was making these advisory remarks 



there was a little agitation behind that cover 

 of the emigrant wagon. I looked inquiringlv 

 at Bill. " Got a dog? " said I. 



"No dog; but the solid fact is, Mr. Ram- 

 bler, I'm married." 



" Great Scott ! " said I ; and before I could 

 catch a second breath he turned back the 

 wagon-cover, and, with hat off, a polite bow, 

 and a blush, said, "Allow me to introduce 

 you to my wife, Mrs. Bill Greene." 



Somehow I didn't know just what to do, so 

 I rammed my hands into my pockets, and 

 again shouted, " Great Scott ! " 



Mrs. Greene didn't seem to be much im- 

 pressed with my presence. I thought she 

 looked a little sour. My well-meant advice 

 to Bill didn't seem to fit her case, and I readi- 

 ly saw that I was in the disagreeable position 

 where two is company and three a crowd. 

 Bill and I made a few ineffectual efforts to 

 continue the conversation. I looked him 

 serenely in the eye, and said, " Captured? " 



" Captured ! " said he. 



" Portland ? " asked I. 



" Portland," replied he. 



I mounted my wheel ; and as I glided away 

 from that emigrant wagon I heard a feminine 

 voice say, " Bill, that chap is just as liable to 

 meet his Waterloo as you were." 



As I journeyed along I moralized over the 

 fact that man is of few days and full of trouble, 

 and not the least of these is the danger of be- 

 ing captured. 



