Junk, 1920 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULT U R E 



WHEN 

 f i n a 



E 



HEN w 

 ally 

 a t a r t e d 

 lioiiio from San 

 Francisco, leav- 

 ing behind us all 

 the fascinating 

 things wc had 

 seen and the 

 many more wo 



wanted to see, there was a regular lump in 

 my throat. Some day I hope to go west, ae- 

 coinpanied by my family of course, and stay 

 until I feel satisfied. 



However, our boy and I were soon divert- 

 ed when we approached the mountains and 

 annexed another locomotive to help pull us 

 over "the top of the world" into the State 

 of Nevada. The boy jumped off at a station 

 stop just to be able to say he had set foot 

 in the State; but, not being in the mood for 

 a divorce, not even the speedy and painless 

 variety common in Nevada, his father and I 

 remained on the train. 



The next morning found us crossing des- 

 ert country' again, which as it approached 

 Salt Lake grew more barren and yet more 

 interesting. Ever since childhood days I 

 have wished to see a mirage. I would be 

 willing to risk heat prostration by visiting 

 a desert in midsummer when mirages are at 

 the height of their season. 



But that day, crossing the barren country 

 which was once a part of the bed of Great 

 Salt Lake, we certainly saw very strange 

 things, and until someone convinces me to 

 the contrary I am going to believe they were 

 niirages. Far in the distance we could see 

 beautiful blue water around the base of a 

 mountain range. The mountains seemed to 

 fairly float in a great lake. As the train 

 bore us nearer, the water gradually disap- 

 peared until the mountains were seen rising 

 from dry and barren sand. My imagination 

 is so efficient that I would hardly have trust- 

 ed my own eyes alone, but our sixteen-year- 

 old boy could see it as plainly as I could, 

 and finally even his unimaginative father 

 admitted he could see that water at the 

 foot of the mountains. We saw this phe- 

 nomenon again and again, and when we 

 later came in sight of Great Salt Lake itself 

 the only difference between that water and 

 what we had seen earlier was that it did not 

 disajipear when we approached and crossed 

 it. 



SALT LAKE CITY, where we stopped off 

 24 hours to tajte in a beekeepers' meet- 

 ing, is a beautiful little city, beautiful- 

 ly located in a valley with the most sociable 

 mountains. They are so close to the city 

 that many streets creep up the foothills, and 

 from our hotel windows there was a magnifi- 

 cent "close-up" view of encircling moun- 

 tains, draped in snow. 



Speaking of that beekeepers' meeting, 

 there was an announcement of it on a bulle- 

 tin board near the elevators in the Hot(d 

 Utah. A chance acquaintance told me it 



PRISONERS IN A CANYON 



Stancy Puerden 



1U 



3 



w^^^^^^^ 



343 



first read "Bar- 

 keepers' Meet- 

 ing. ' ' She said 

 people would 

 stroll by, read 

 the bulletin, and 

 c o m m e n t , 

 ' ' What an opti- 

 mistic set those 

 fellows are. ' ' 



THE head of the family chose the D. & 

 E. G. from Salt Lake City to Denver, al- 

 tho he remarked that he never takes 

 that slow and uncertain route when he is 

 alone. Leaving Salt Lake in the afternoon, 

 the next morning found us running rather 

 slowly thru beautiful Color'ado mountain 

 scenery near Glenwood Springs. From there 

 we proceeded into the canyon of the Grand 

 River, hugging close to the canyon walls on 

 the right, while the narrow river was at our 

 left and across it were the other walls of 

 the canj'on, which varied from alrtiost per- 

 pendicular to steep and broken hills. Every 

 turn of the train, and it was turning all the 

 time, showed us a new and beautiful picture. 

 We were enchanted. A Colorado beekeeper 

 on the train told us interesting things about 

 the canyon, how he and his family enjoyed 

 an auto camping trip thru it the preceding 

 summer. You see Colorado beekeepers are 

 so prosperous that they can enjoy fine vaca- 

 tions and many other luxuries. It is a great 

 State for honey as well as scenery. 



About this time the train stopped sudden- 

 ly, and presently it developed that the cause 

 was a snow slide at the entrance to a tunnel 

 just ahead. When the passengers poured 

 out of the train the heap of snow mixed 

 with dirt and rocks looked so big and the 

 few workmen with their shovels so inade- 

 quate that it was apparent we were not go- 

 ing to have a change of view for some time. 

 It was a most picturesque place where we 

 were. There was the tunnel in front of us 

 with the snow slide almost hiding the en- 

 trance, and in sight behind us was another 

 small tunnel, little more than a rocky arch 

 over the railroad. The narrow ledge on 

 which the railroad was built broadened at 

 the point where our car happened to be 

 enough to accommodate a little house be- 

 tween the railroad and the river and also 

 a remodeled freight car in which lived two 

 or three girl telegraphers. The tiny tele- 

 graph station was on the other side of the 

 track. The whole was dignified by the name 

 of Shoshone. The curves of the canyon 

 make Shoshone seem completely surrounded 

 by the steep hills, with no visible passage 

 out. A light bridge crosses the river, con- 

 necting the little group of buildings with 

 the highway which is built on a narrow 

 ledge against the other wall of the canyon. 

 Diagonally across from Shoshone the can- 

 yon walls recede enough to leave a recess 

 in the hills with room enough for a number 

 of tents, and in these tents lived a convict 

 gang, trusties from the state prison who 

 were working on the highway. Before we 



