1906 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 





V 



NAVIGATING THE WATER ON SARASOTA 

 BAY, ETC. 



I strongly suspect some of you would 

 rather I should write about "navigating the 

 air;" but I am not quite ready for that just 

 now; but it will come very soon, Providence 

 permitting. 



There seem to be four ways of propelling 

 boats here on this bay; and, by the way, 

 perhaps I should explain thit all traffic of 

 any account in this region is by water. 

 There isn't a horse on this whole island (ten 

 miles long) , and there are very few on the 

 main land— thac is, unless you get back in 

 the country away from the shore. Well, in 

 regard to the four ways of "getting along." 

 There are row-boats, sail-boats, and gasoline- 

 launches. That is three; and when the wind 

 slacks up, sail- boats (and sometimes launch- 

 es) are propelled by what is called "poling." 

 This is possible, because the water all over 

 this bay is rarely over six feet deep, and 

 usually only about three or four. The ' ' pol- 

 ing-oar," always carried in every sail- boat, 

 is from fifteen to eighteen feet long, and 

 the expert sailor will put one end on the 

 sandy bottom, then run back along the side 

 of his boat the full length of that long pole, 

 while lie makes the boat just "scud " ahead. 

 One day, soon after we reached here, I was 

 standing on the shore, overcoat on, and fur 

 cap pulled down over my ears, shivering in 

 the terrific cold wind, when I saw a young 

 man poling a boat, pretty well loaded down, 

 up toward where we stood. He was bare- 

 footed and bareheaded, and had his sleeves 

 rolled up and shirt-collar turned down, be- 

 sides; but he was a splendid picture of ath- 

 letic strength and manhood. As he skillful- 

 ly shot his boat up to the dock, and then 

 stood right in the wind covered with per- 

 spiration I suggested, as I took his hand, 

 that he would surely take cold. He laugh- 

 ingly replied, "No danger at all, Mr. Root; 

 I am perfectly used to it. ' ' He is the son 

 of a well-to-do farmer, and had been to Sar- 

 asota (sixteen miles from his home) with 

 produce, and was bringing back supplies. 

 The wind was so heavy against him he had 

 taken down his sails, and was "poling home" 

 rather than sit down and loaf until the wind 

 went down. 



I want to digress a little right here. Dr. 

 Miller's good wife might like to know why 

 I don't take off my overcoat and "fur cap," 

 go barefoot, get soaked with salt water 

 (and perspiration), and then stand in the 

 cold wind with impunity, etc. Well, I would 

 give every thing in the world (except Mrs. 

 Root), and start life over again, in exchange 



for such vitality and strengh of constitution 

 as belong to my good friend and neighbor. 

 Walter Blackman. After the doctors told 

 me, a dozen years ago, that I would never 

 again be a well man 1 have been fighting off 

 "my funeral." You remember that, for 

 years, I ran away from it with my bicycle, 

 and, later, with the automobile. Sometimes 

 I think I have got out of sight of my ma- 

 larial chills; but back they come again; and 

 I have learned by bitter experience that, 

 when they come, I must keep up the tem- 

 perature in some way. If exercise is out of 

 the question, then I must be " bundled up." 

 I am sure I am not alone in this. I have 

 seen elderly people go down to their graves 

 just because of going out or getting caught 

 in the weather not properly protected. The 

 modern way of barbering men folks, togeth- 

 er with a style of hat that doesn't protect 

 the bald heads, and can not come down over 

 the ears at all, is, I am sure, a reason for 

 the terrible amount of grip, catarrh, etc. 

 Had Ernest worn a fur cap, as advised by 

 his father, and put on a warm overcoat when 

 outdoors, he anight have been spared the ten- 

 day grip mentioned on p. 345. 



Now about the fur cap when bees were at 

 work. I didn't need it then; but when 1 left 

 home for a twelve-mile boat-ride before day- 

 light it was very much needed; as a conse- 

 quence, my other cap was at home "on its 

 peg." Dear Mrs. Miller, don't you think I 

 have, through God's providence, during the 

 past twelve years or more, been a pretty 

 " lively corpse," after all? 



This poling- oar is made of the very strong- 

 est and lightest wood, and has a thin oar- 

 like blade at its lower end. This is to save 

 friction in drawing it through the water. 

 Mr. Shumard says he would rather pole a 

 boat than to run it any other way, while his 

 two boys are both experts in the use of 

 sails. 



Gasoline as a motive power has the ad- 

 vantage of the others, because it is inde- 

 pendent of the wind; but it is more expen- 

 sive, and there is more or less uncertainty 

 connected with so much complication. Be- 

 fore there was a windmill- factory anywhere 

 in the United States, I made a windmill for 

 my mother that pumped water and churmed 

 the butter; of course, the first real heavy 

 blow we had wrecked it. I was so yoimg 

 then I think I cried about it; but as I wiped 

 my eyes I to'd mother, and some of the old- 

 er children who laughed at my tears, "Well, 

 you just see if the time doesn't come when 

 windmills will be all over the country, doing 

 all kinds of work, and they will be made so 

 they won't blow down too. Since then I 

 have always 1 ked God's wind, "that works 

 for nothing and boards itself." It almost 

 always blows down here, which is lucky for 

 the boats but bad for the bees. Our sail- 

 boats, three of them, are for fishing, and 

 are pretty large for me to handle; but as I 

 had a great longing to try my hand at it, 

 Mr. S. and his son-in-law told me one rather 

 quiet day to go ahead. As they were at 

 work in a field some distance from the house, 



