DECEMBER 15, 1916 



1185 



was takin? him to the Ohio State University in Co- 

 lumbus—Mrs. Neillie and the little girl accompany- 

 ing us in our machine. Mrs. Boot saw him, and 

 said you were away in Springfield. Mrs. N. and I 

 wish to be remembered to Mrs. R. The boy has to 

 earn half his expenses at the University. He is 

 taking the general course at the Colleijp of Agricul- 

 ture. 



The big boy who sat with you in the machine on 

 the trip to Wooster is Edison, named after Tom Edi- 

 son. He will be 15 on the 19th of November, and is 

 heavier than I am. Last night he was makin-c a 

 new wireless instrument-board to replace an old luie 

 he made last year. If he has any real apitude for 

 the study of electricity I think I will notify Mr. Edi- 

 son that T named a baby after him nearly 15 years 

 ago, and ask that he be taken into his laboratory ; 

 otherwise he goes to the Ohio State University. He 

 is now in high school. 



There were two other sons in the machine with 

 you — Elmer, 9 years old, who can tell his older 

 brother more about a Ford than they know, and 

 Franklin, 7 years old. 



Please tell Huber that we made Columbus in seven 

 hours from Cleveland (actual running time), and 

 that I think I can do it in 6 if not 5V2 hours if 

 I have no precious load like wife and children in the 

 car. 



The article Mrs. Neillie wrote was %vritten four or 

 five years ago. We swam out of that sea of debt 

 some seven years ago, into it, buying the corner lot 

 next to us. 



You seem to think it a bit strange a deaf man 

 can drive a- car. There are several of us in this 

 state who do, and one is reported to own and drive 

 a taxicab in Toledo. Deaf people have a sort of 

 " sensiometer " which is more developed than with 

 hearing people, and which is still more perfectly de- 

 veloped with the blind. We notice any unusual jar- 

 ring or loose vibration that ordinary people don't 

 notice. The antenna of my " sensiometer " is always 

 " on the job " on my car. I look after my car, 

 keep my sight straight ahead, sparing five per cent of 

 it for rear-sight mirror, and do not take any chances, 

 and am all the more careful becavse I am deaf. 

 However, I have " the other fellow " to reckon with, 

 the same as Huber or any one else, and I may get 

 hurt yet. I have driven motorcycles between 25,000 

 and 30,000 miles, and autos over 40,000, and no ac- 

 cidents at all yet. 



Oh, yes ! we are all happy here. We have books, 

 the yard, the children, the car gives us all the country 

 we can want, and I have a host of intelligent friends 

 all over the city (including the police, to whom I 

 " wave my hands ") whom I acquired in the capacity 

 of consulting tree " physician and surgeon," 

 whom the Park Department sends out to advise peo- 

 ple who ask for some one to look at their trees and 

 plants. It is generally the cultured people who take 

 enough interest in their plants to send for some one. 



My friends number from the secretary of war 

 down to the wives of the Great Lakes sailors. 



Mrs. Neillie says I am a garrulous old man, and 

 that I muxt stop; but I hope this letter will prove a 

 little of a diversion for you. 



Most fervently imploring God's blessing on you 

 and Mrs. R., and praying that he will spare you to 

 us for a long time yet, I am your friend, 



Cleveland, 0., Oct. 24. Chas. R. Neillie. 



Iillllllllllllllllllllllllliiillllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllillliiillllilllilllllilllllllllllllillilllllililill^ 



MILK AND HONEY FOR THE GREAT WIDE 

 WORLD. 



The following, clipped from the Cleve- 

 land News of Nov. 7, is about the best 

 write-up for bees and honey from an out- 



sider I have ever come across. Tn fact, 

 some of US veteran beekeepers never knew 

 or thought of some of the things mentioned, 

 especially in the matter of "housekeeping" 

 in the hive,and that the honeybee is a model 

 housekeeper. Just one suggestion : If I 

 am correct, bees do instinctively object to 

 a dirty man; and if I am right about it a 

 man with the fumes of whisky or beer on 

 his breath would be more likely to be stung 

 " at sight " than the one who has just 

 come from the stable without being washed 

 up. 



d'YOU like honey? by EDNA K. WOOLEY. 



The Honey Man sat down beside my desk and 

 smiled at me. 



Now, please don't draw any hasty conclusion. 

 I'm calling him the Honey Man simply because he 

 knows all about honey and its makers, the bees. 



" Do you know," he began, " that there are never 

 any milti-millionaires among the bees?" 



"Indeed?" I politely responded. 



" The fact is," he continued, " that the honeybee 

 never reaps the reward of its labors. It's the sad- 

 dest thing in a bee's life. A bee's life is short at 

 best. It works so hard that its wings soon become 

 frayed and inadequate for long flights. However, 

 the bee works up to the last minute, and is never able 

 to carry its last load of honey home. 



" I wish you could see the inside of a beehive and 

 understand it as I do. It's a regular city, with its 

 officials, its sanitary squads, its police — everything 

 about as we have it, only everything is so much 

 better done than we do it. A beehive is the most 

 sanitary spot on earth. Bees can't and won't stand 

 dirt. Put a dirty honeycomb into a hive and in a 

 couple of hours the bees will have that comb clean 

 and actually glistening. 



" Every bee has to go thru a course of thoro home 

 and civic training before it is allowed to leave the 

 hive to do outside work. For the first sixteen days 

 of its life the bee does housework, you might say, 

 and tends the babies. At the age of sixteen days it 

 is considered mature and educated, and may go out 

 into the world to live the fuller life." 



" Bees are wonderful," I admitted. " I'm happy 

 to say that I'm one of the few people that they don't 

 sting." 



The Honey Man laughed gently. 



" Now, that is an old idea that ought to be ex- 

 ploded — that bees will sting some folks and not 

 others," he remarked. " The fact is, you can handle 

 bees at certain times and they'll be so busy thinking 

 of something else that they won't sting. For in- 

 stance, when they swarm they seldom sting. 



" Bees distinguish everything according to odor. 

 Possibly one person's odor may be so agreeable to 

 the bees that they let him alone. The bee's sense 

 of smell is so acute that it will scent what is im- 

 perceptible to human nostrils. Bees are known to 

 each other by their odor. Every bee has its own 

 colony odor, and no bee will be admitted into a hive 

 unless it has the colony odor of that hive. 



" A bee will sting where it is offended by an odor. 

 A man who has been in the stable, we will say, may 

 go direct to the apiary and be slung by the mildest 

 bees there, while the same man, frc.sh from a bath 

 and wearing clean clothes, could go about unharmed 

 among the most vicious bees in the apiary." 



"Tell me something." I asked. "Do the beee 

 really make all the honeycomb, and why is extracted 

 honey cheaper than comb honey?" 



" Bees make all the honeycomb," he answered. 

 " A satisfactory substitute has never been found. 



