372 



AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



cities I ever struck on the face of the 

 earth. 



Weary, tired and disgustified, I made 

 up my mind then and there to leave the 

 city. So I went down to the foot of 

 Wayne street, bought a round-trip 

 ticket for $7.00 to Mackinac, and slept 

 on board the handsome ship " City of 

 Alpena " for the night. 



After having partaken of a salutary 

 breakfast on the boat the next morning, 

 and witnessed the exciting scenes inci- 

 dent to departure, we were soon sailing 

 up the bluish-green water of the Detroit 

 river. The quaint old town of Windsor, 

 Canada, is on our right, while the 

 famous and world-renowned Belle Isle, 

 lit up by electric tower lighting, we pass 

 on the left. We are now in placid Lake 

 St. Clair, while the picturesque St. Clair 

 Flats are seen in the distance. This 

 vista must be seen to be appreciated. 

 For miles boating houses, summer re- 

 sorts and hotels are seen on stilts and 

 piles on the American side, while on the 

 Canuck's hardly anything is scarcely 

 visible. This is hard to belfeve, but 

 nevertheless it is true. 



Here we are now going through the 

 far-famed governmental ship-canal soon 

 to emerge in the St. Clair river. The 

 towns of Marine City, St. Clair and Oak- 

 land are soon passed, and we find our- 

 selves launched to the dock at Port 

 Huron. Here are numerous small boys 

 vending their wares of buttered popcorn 

 and roasted peanuts. We are informed 

 that Lake Huron is rough, but after the 

 roustabouts have performed their duties, 

 we cast off and are ready to face the 

 music of the waves. 



Have you ever seen a mother for the 

 first time nursing and rocking her first 

 born ? Imagine then, this huge ship, 

 as she sang lullabyes to those who for 

 the first time were on board a rough sea. 

 She soon began to play " rock-a-bye 

 baby " on the deep, and I noticed that 

 many people began to hie to their state- 

 rooms and berths, and a foul odor began 

 to pervade the cabin, and people began 

 to walk intoxicated, and I soon came to 

 the conclusion that Emesis began to 

 reign supreme, " monarch of all he sur- 

 veyed." 



So I stayed near the railing of the 

 boat, filling my lungs with the cool, re- 

 freshing oxygen, and inhaling the bene- 

 ficial oozone of the lake, expriencing all 

 the while a queer sensation in my 

 abdominal head-quarters — but further 

 than that I encountered no serious ob- 

 stacles. 



Being tired out, I soon consigned my 

 little body into the somniferous embrace 



of the goddess of sleep, and there nest- 

 ling on her nigrescent bosom, I began to 

 doze, when, bang ! bang ! kerchug ! 

 Heavens ! what's that ? 



To be a little explanatory, I will say 

 that there are two berths in each room — 

 an upper and a lower. By paying $1.50 

 you secure the lower and the right to 

 the key, while the upper costs one 

 dollar, but then you are dependent upon 

 the purchaser of the lower to get in and 

 out. This is a most execrable arrange- 

 ment, yet it is so. Turning over I un- 

 locked the door, when in strutted an 

 unbeknown stranger to me, who, dis- 

 robing, leaped up into the upper berth. 

 Well, confound it, Sullivan-like, I felt 

 like taking the clerk of that ship and 

 breaking his face — but these are some of 

 the tit-bits of traveling alone. 



About 2 a.m. the rumbling and 

 grumbling of trucks informed me of the 

 fact that we were at Oscoda, a lumber 

 town of Michigan. But albeit I vowed 

 on my down trip to stay in the cabin all 

 night rather than sleep with somebody 

 else, the sights I saw next morning more 

 than made up for the inconveniences I 

 experienced in that hour of night, the 

 keystone. 



Old Sol shining on the calm waters to 

 our right made the lake appear like a 

 huge flock of gregarious cow-birds, flop- 

 ping argentiferous wings, while 18 miles 

 distant in the horizon, the curling smoke 

 finding its way heavenward above the 

 "City of Alpena," was a sight so grand, 

 glorious and soul-inspiring I am con- 

 vinced could not be effaced from off the 

 black-board of my memory, by the com- 

 bined strength of all the tutors and pro- 

 fessors that ever enjoyed the light of 

 day. 



Alpena is a strictly lumbering town. 

 Here is abundance, and hence profli- 

 gacy. Refuse burners signify it. But 

 already they are feeling the gnawing 

 rat. Forests are not of mushroom 

 growth, but require that of generations, 

 and the question is being debated, 

 What will become of these towns that 

 draw their nutriment entirely from 

 lumber resources, when the forests are 

 cut away ? 



The land does not seem to be fit for 

 agriculture, and I cannot help saying to 

 these deluded people, What became of 

 the kingly, superb and magnificent city 

 of Nantucket when the never-ceasing 

 bar appeared at the entrance of the 

 harbor? Their salvation, commercially 

 speaking, is only to be found in forestry. 



Acres and acres of logs floating on the 

 lake, towed along by a little tug, is no 

 uncommon sight. The outside logs are 



