214 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Mar. 15. 



gatherings. We had noticed a deep hole In the 

 ground near the creek, and curiously wondered 

 what It was used for. It was 4 feet deep and 3 

 feet In diameter. Our barber built a fire In the 

 bottom of the hole, and kept feeding it with 

 hard-wood chunks until there was a thick bed 

 of coals. A bull's head was then carefully roll- 

 ed in a burlap sack, and dropped upon the 

 coals. Immediately the head was covered with 

 dirt to the depth of about three feet. From 16 to 

 34 hours was considered long enough to cook the 

 head. It was then taken out piping hot. The 

 Toro Club would assemble around a rustic 

 table, under the walnut-trees, and enjoy the 

 festal board. 



Our camp was furthermore enlivened by its 

 proximity to the cooler, made necessary by the 

 aforesaid saloons. The cooler 

 was very appropriately located 

 near a huge water- tank. It was 

 the duty of the waterman to 

 put his three docile horses to 

 the turntable pump and fill the 

 tank regularly every day, and 

 as regularly every night deliver 

 it to the thirsty and dusty road 

 all about town. 



There were no bee-keepers 

 here to enliven our evenings, 

 and with whom to trade jokes. 

 We longed again for Bro. Pryal's 

 camp-fire and Bro. Jones's en- 

 thusiasm. We knew, too, that 

 they would enjoy the numerous 

 mosquitoes just as we did. We 

 realized the full beauties of cool 

 foggy nights, for the result was 

 fewer mosquitoes in Oakland, and a double 

 portion in Contra Costa Co. 



When the days were fulfilled for us to move 

 along we left Walnut Creek in peace, and next 

 surprised the town of Black Diamond. This 

 queer little town is located on the Suisun Bay, 

 at the point where the San Joaquin and Sacra- 

 mento Rivers mingle their chocolate-colored 

 waters. We expected to cross the bay imme- 

 diately; but the town was so inviting we resolv- 

 ed to stop a few days. The streets were not as 

 inviting as they are in some towns in which we 

 have been; for numerous pigs, goats, dogs, and 

 urchins ran at large, and preyed upon the un- 

 suspecting camper. Black Diamond, as the 

 name suggests, derives it name from coal-mines 

 in the hills beyond; but the mines have been 

 paralyzed by a ten-years' litigation. Salmon- 

 fishing, however, is a flourishing industry, and 

 several score of Italians reside here, and daily 

 mend their nets, and nightly go forth to swoop 

 in the fish, which they do by the boatload. 

 Canneries dot the s-hores of the bay, and the 

 business of putting salmon in cans is nearly as 

 honorable as the production of honey. The 



that sweet disposition so characteristic of the 

 American bee-keeper. The Dago wives are 

 sharp-tongued, meddlesome, and saucy. Their 

 pigs, their goats, their urchins, and mosquitoes, 

 were ditto. Saturday night th(! fishermen all 

 came in for a grand pow-wow, more than less; 

 wine was guzzled, and Italian language was 

 slung through the air in volleys, salvos, and 

 broadsides. We know, for a whole brigade of 

 Dagos hung to the fence near our tent, and 

 fired words at each other until one volley 

 knocked a fellow over our tent-rope. Well, 

 now. wasn't there music! Our lantern came 

 rattling from its hook; Wilder yelled, and I 

 did. The meeting outside was broken up in 

 confusion, and the participants scattered to the 

 four winds of Black Diamond. One of the 



DAGO FISHERMEN AT BLACK DIAMOND. 



Dagos was, however, polite enough to hug him- 

 self into a comfortable feeling, lie came back 

 and apologized. He explained a fact that we 

 already knew— that the rest were all drunk. 

 Between Dagos and mosquitoes, we slept but 

 little that Saturday night. 



Sunday I found peace and quiet in the little 

 Congregational church. A young and earnest 

 pastor preached a helpful sermon; but his au- 

 dience v/as small, and the cause languished. 

 On the public square, in sight of our camp, 

 however, that afternoon times were very lively. 

 There was a baseball game, and a hundred and 

 fifty people in attendance. 



Contra Costa Co. can not be classed as a hon- 

 ey-producing locality. About the only bees 

 we find are in nondescript hives, and few in 

 number. Mount Diablo (devil) in the eastern 

 portion of the county should bear upon its sides 

 a rich honey-flora; but from its name, or some 

 other cause. Mount Diablo is not worth much 

 if any thing, in a practical way. There are, 

 no doubt, good locations along the San Joaquin 

 River which could be made profitable with 



fruit-raising. That these places may soon be 

 Dagos, however, even if they did come from occupied by some happy bachelor is the wish of 

 the land of our gentle Italian bees, have not the Rambler. 



