608 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTLKK 



or red clover at that early date. Somebody 

 suggested that if father would brimstone 

 his bees he could have a good lot more of 

 that nice honey. I believe it is quite out of 

 fashion now to brimstone bees to get the 

 honey — at least I hope it is; and I have 

 protested against this cruel and foolish 

 practice for the past 70 years. It is like 

 killing the goose that has laid a golden egg. 

 But as it was to be done I was very eager 

 to be a witness to the operation; but I had 

 just had a spell of what the doctors called 

 in that early day lung fever ; and our doctor 

 said the day before that I would have to be 

 kept indoors close to the big iireplace. He 

 said I must not even be permitted to look 

 out of doors. As it was near winter time 

 there was a little snow on the ground; but 

 in some way or other when they were busy 

 getting their pans and kettles ready to put 

 the honey, in I slipped out of the door that 

 did not happen to be latched. I got up to 

 the crowd around the hives, and tnen stub- 

 bed my toe and fell over with my bare 

 hands sprawled out in the snow; and there 

 my good motlior found me and grabbed me 

 up quick. She put me in a chair by the 

 fire; and to i^eep away drafts they bung- 

 blankets on three sides of the big rocking- 

 chair where I was laid on pillows. The 

 doctor was sent for, and later another doc- 

 tor, and finally a third one. But I went 

 down so rapidly after falling in the snow 

 that all three, doctors gave me up. They 

 told my poor mother that there was no 

 hope; and when I had almost ceased breath- 

 ing they gathered up their medicines and 

 went away. My good mother (bless her 

 memory !) had faith to believe that the qreat 

 Father above was not only above and be- 

 yond all doctors, but she had faith to believe 

 that he hears and answers prayer, even 

 though that prayer be breathed in the hum- 

 blest log cabin away back in the woods. 

 For some time I hovered between life and 

 death; but the untiring mother pulled me 

 through. Some one asked which one of the 

 three doctors saved my life. The reply was, 

 " It was none of them — it was no doctor at 

 all. It was the untiring mother and a 

 mother's prayers." May God bless the faitli- 

 ful, patient. Christian mothers of our land. 

 And may God be praised that our good 

 President saw fit just recently to appoint 

 one day in the year as " Mothers' Day." 



When I was old enough to remember the 

 incidents of my early childhood I wanted 

 some bees; but father always declared they 

 did not pay for the fuss and bother. Be- 

 sides, they would sting. After I was married 

 T told the good wife that we would have to 

 have some bees; and after visiting a friend 



of mine who was a doctor, and seeing some 

 hives of bees in his pretty garden, I was 

 more determined than ever to have some 

 bees of my own. His bees were working in 

 boxes that had glass ends so one could open 

 a door and see them build new combs and 

 deposit the honey in them. I think that at 

 this time I was 25 years old. I was fairly 

 successful as a jeweler and watch repairer. 

 I also did quite a good business in manu- 

 facturing silver chains and rings for the 

 soldiers, for there was a craze for such 

 jewelry at the time the war broke out. 



While we were busily occupied one sum- 

 mer day, one of the hands, looking out of 

 the open door, said, " There goes a swarTo 

 of bees." My partner in business, W. A. 

 Shaw, having heard me express a wish to 

 get some bees, looked up jokingly and said, 

 " Mr. Root, give me a dollar and I will get 

 them for you." 



To carry on the joke I put my hand in 

 my pocket and happened to get hold of a 

 silver dollar and gave it to him. He darted 

 out of the door with a rush. I had so little 

 faith, however, that I forgot all about it. 

 But I remember he came back a few min- 

 utes later and set a box down, saying, "Mr. 

 Root, here is your swarm of bees." I could 

 hardly believe it possible that he had caught 

 them from away up in the air, and persuad- 

 ed them to go into that box. 



" Why, Mr. Shaw, how in the world did 

 you get those bees up in the air, and induce 

 them to go into that box ? " 



He jestingly replied, " Oh ! that is a five- 

 dollar secret." 



As he did not seem inclined to explain I 

 went on questioning the bees. They did not 

 fly out much that day; but next morning 

 before daylight I was watching them; and 

 I watched those bees and experimented with 

 them until they got out of patience, I pre- 

 sume, and " absconded " the second time. 

 But this event by no means dampened my 

 enthusiasm. I found a neighbor who was 

 willing to sell a colony of bees. We tied a 

 rope around the hive and put a long pole 

 through the rope. A friend took one end 

 while I took the other one, and so we car- 

 ried them home. 



One morning I told Mrs. Root that I had 

 important business in Cleveland, thirty miles 

 away. She supposed it Avas something con- 

 nected with the jewelry business; but it was 

 really to get to the bookstores and hunt i;p 

 whatever I could find on bees. In those days 

 it took a whole day to go to Cleveland in a 

 stage coach, and another day to get back. 

 We did not have railways, electric cars, nor 

 automobiles. The mud was often so doep 

 that it was dark before we reached the citA'. 



