1899 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



467 



We are sending Mr. Rambo the cages, and 

 are going on just the same to get the bees if 

 possible. If we can not secure them by mail 

 we will have little hives made, and see what 

 we can do about getting them by express. In 

 the mean time Mr. Rambo will doubtless get 

 into communication with other missionaries 

 who will be able to give us some valuable as- 

 sistance. — Ed.] 



RAMBLE 169. 

 In Seattle, Washington. 



BY RAMBI.ER. 



When I walked up the street from the wharf 

 in Seattle, arm in arm with — my bike, I was 

 not long in discovering that I was in a city 

 with more than ordinary snap and enterprise. 

 The crowd of people on the streets, the jam 

 of vehicles, and the clang of car-gongs, re- 

 minded me of the city of the angels in our 

 lovely southland ; and, though the skits were 

 overcast with clouds, my first impression of 

 Seattle was good ; and with the first effort I 

 made for a neadquarteis I dropped into the 

 Olympic, a temperance house on a busy public 

 square, and for a temperance house it had the 

 remarkable feature of being run by a one-eyed 

 Irishman. The remarkable feature, of course, 

 was the one eye. 



I discovered, foon after arrival, that the 

 steamer for San Francisco had sailed that 

 morning, and the next would s dl in five days. 

 To make matters more enjoyable, the sun 

 came out the next morning, dispelled the 

 clouds and the gloom of mist and rain I had 

 endured in Salem, Portland, and Tacoma, 

 therefore if I seem to prefer Seattle to all of 

 those cities, attribute it to the sunshine. 



Seattle is a picturesque city. The contour 

 of the land as it rises from the sound in a 

 series of heights and bluffs results in terraced 

 streets much like Tacoma. From the upper 

 portions of the city there is a fine view of the 

 sound, its shipping, and the surrounding 

 country. All of these northern cities have a 

 particular grand mountain over which they 

 exercise an ownership, and to which they 

 point the finger of pride ; so the proud fingers 

 of Seattle point to Mount Rainier, 14,000 feet 

 elevation, and always wearing a white cap. 

 Seattle is also a hustling place, for in less than 

 20 years it has grown from a small town of a 

 few hundred inhabitants to a city of 70,000. 

 Other cities go to great expense to create arti- 

 ficial lakes in their parks, and which, after 

 all, are mere ponds ; but here in Seattle are 

 several pretty natural lakes, and bordering 

 upon the east side of the city is Lake Wash- 

 ington, 20 miles long and 5 in width, a beau- 

 tiful sheet of water with many islands dotting 

 its surface. 



This city, like Tacoma, has fine wheel-paths; 

 and after we get up some of those terraces and 

 out of the business portion of the city, we find 

 a portion of a certain street reserved for a 

 wheel-path. A space about four feet wide is 

 laid off from the curbing, and nicely rounded 

 up with gravel. This follows one street and 



then another until it runs out into the country. 

 Still it winds along, following the indenta- 

 tions of the hills, now into a gorge where 

 immense trees throw a deep shadow. Here is 

 perhaps a rustic bridge, a little stream of water 

 tinkling from a cooling spring. Then we 

 whirl around fern-covered banks, or out on a 

 bluff where, like a vision from fairy-land, 

 there bursts upon ihe eye a sparkling lake, 

 beautiful islands, evergreen forests. Away 

 yonder is a little steamer laboring toward an 

 island ; here the white wings of a sail-boat 

 with its jolly crew ; in the distance the snow- 

 clad Cascade range of mountains, the home of 

 the fir and the pine. Ten miles of this varied 

 experience, and at every turn new vistas and 

 new beauties, I would fain wheel on and on 

 for ever, but have to halt at one of the plea- 

 sure-resorts on the shore of Lake Washington. 



A WHEEL-PATH UNDER THE FIR-TREES. 



The return trip is as enjoyable as the first, 

 and I have to dismount several times to take 

 in more fully the beauties of the landscape. 

 At every point where our wheel-path makes a 

 sudden curve around a bluff or in a gorge 

 there is a warning sign, '■"Keep to the right ; 

 go stow ! '" As I mingled with the devotees 

 of the wheel on the way — all ages, sexes, and 

 conditions of life, I found it quite necessary 

 to heed the warning ; and I found in those 

 bold letters a fine subject for moral reflection. 

 I imagined this to be the great highway of 

 life. As we jostle along witn the crowd there 

 may be an occasional temptation to give a 

 sharp or even a profane word ; but, young 

 man, see yonder sign: "Keep to the right; 

 go slow." There is danger in convivial habits; 

 and in the saloon along our pathway is the 

 first chance and the last chance. Would you 



