W AMERICAN ^ 



* * :S 



ApfcULTURIST. 



A. Journal Devoted to Practical Beekeeping. 



VOL. X. 



NOVEMBER, 1892. 



No. It. 



MY OUTING. 



A WKLL-KNOWN BKEKKEPER ON A VACATION. 



Having an inclination for the water 

 and a desire for an ocean voyage, but 

 not being an Astor or a Vanderbilt, I of 

 necessity had first to consult the depth 

 of my purse. So having looked over 

 the many excursions advertised, I finally 

 decided to try a trip to Portland, Me., 

 via the Maine S. S. line. Accordingly 

 Wednesday evening, Sept. 27th. I wend- 

 ed my way, grip in hand, to the dock in 

 N. Y. City and was soon snugly domiciled 

 aboard the fine steamer "Cottage City," 

 room 41, which room turned out to be 

 a most delightful one being situated at 

 the extreme bow with a door opening 

 outside. I speak of this because it is a 

 desirable feature especially if the wind 

 is very strong, so that it is uncomfortable 

 to sit outside, you can just fasten your 

 door open and sit within or lie at full 

 length in your berth and enjoy the scen- 

 ery as you sail along. As we pull out 

 from the wharf the pleasure begins. 

 Running along with difficulty to steer 

 clear of the many ferry-boats, tugs and 

 small craft we soon leave the grand city 

 behind. The first great landscape we 

 reach is New York's great ':ountry seat 



for her erring ones, "Blackwell's Island." 

 To look at it from the outside, one would 

 almost be persuaded to commit some 

 offence if he knew a domicile on this 

 beautiful island would be his punishment 

 for a little while. Next we come to 

 "Hellgate," the great bed of rock reach- 

 ing out from the village of "Astoria" to 

 the junction of Harlem river and seem- 

 ingly forming a great barrier to naviga- 

 tion ; but, thanks to General Newton 

 and modern science, it is now compar- 

 atively safe. We now pass the large public 

 buildings on Ward and Randall Islands ; 

 also Oak Point a pleasure resort on one 

 side, and Hallet'sCove,"'Bowery Beach," 

 and Steinway, the headquarters of the 

 great piano makers, on the opposite or 

 Long Island side. A little further we 

 pass the North and South Brother Isl- 

 ands also Rikers Island, all of which 

 have of late become the property of the 

 city of N. Y. and devoted to some de- 

 partment of its public business. We now 

 emerge into L. I. Sound and, as I look to- 

 wards the Westchester side my eye strikes 

 some old familiar points that rfemind 

 me of boyhood days — Barretto's point, 

 Hunt's point, mouth of West Farms 

 creek, or the outlet of the Browne River, 

 where is situated old black Rock. Here 

 I used to go to fish and dig clams and 

 (165) 



