FORTY YEARS AMONG THE BEES. 



BIOGRAPHICAL BOYHOOD DAYS. 



Fifty miles east of Pittsburg lies the little village of 

 Ligonier, Pa., where I was born June lo, 1831. Twenty 

 miles away, across the mountain, lies the ill-fated city of 

 Johnstown, where my family lived later on, and where 

 my only living sister resides at the present day. The scen- 

 ery about Ligonier is of such a charming character that 

 in recent years it has become a summer resort, a branch 

 railroad terminating at that point. Looking down upon 

 the town from the south is a hill so steep that one won- 

 ders how it is possible to cultivate it, while between it and 

 the town flows a little stream called the Loyalhanna, with 

 a milldam upon whose broad bosom I spent many a happy 

 winter hour gliding over the icy surface on the glittering 

 steel ; and in the hot and lazy summer days, with trouser- 

 legs rolled up to the highest, I waded all about the dam, 

 the bubbles from its oozy bed running up my legs in a 

 creepy way, while I watched with keen eyes for the 

 breathing-hole of some snapping turtle hidden beneath 

 the mud, then cautiously felt my way to its tail, lifted it 

 and held it at arm's length for fear of its vicious jaws, 

 and with no little efifort carried it snapping and strug- 

 gling to the shore. Ever in sight was the mountain, 

 abounding in chestnuts, rattlesnakes, and huckleberries, 

 and I distinctly recall how strange it seemed, when all 

 was still about me, to hear the roar of the wind in the 

 tree-tops on the mountain eight or ten miles away. 



EARLY EDUCATION. 



My earliest opportunities for education were not of 

 the best. Public schools were not then what they are 



