1895 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



399 



BAMBLE 132. 



BEE-KEEPING IN LAKEPORT. 



By Rambler. 



When we pulled out again from our camp the 

 added factors to our cavalcade attracted much 

 attention. The people who were lounging 

 around the springs cast curious glances at us 

 as we rolled out of sight through the dust. 

 Susan B. formed a cordial attachment to our 

 ponies; and whenever we would get beyond 

 her vision her shrill neighing reverberated up 

 the mountain sides. No, Susan B. was not 

 wind-broken, even if she was old and some of 

 her teeth loose. 



We traverse Cobb's Valley, and meet many 

 new features on the way. This valley seems to 

 have several fine ranches which were evidently 

 a sufficient support, without living off the tour- 

 ist; but we discovered that the tourist was the 

 legitimate prey of even the ranchers. Herein 

 the pretty shady Glen wood we had to pay 20 

 cents per loaf for bread. The postmistress of 

 the nook was real pretty and sociable, and was 

 fully as well posted in relation to roads and 

 distances as the village blacksmith; and while 

 she sold ns stamps and bread she gave us much 

 valuable information. Bro. Pryal wanted to 

 camp right there and then, at midday. Wilder 

 and I would not listen to such a proposition, 

 and, cracking the whip, swung around the 

 corner out of sight. Of course, Susan B. whin- 

 nied, pawed the earth, and whirled around; 

 the postmistress stopped in the middle of a 

 story, and fled to her little office. Susan B. 

 pulled so hard on the bits that Pryal had to let 

 'ergo. This little inkling of our friend's ad- 

 miration of the fair sex gave us some fears that 

 there would be disastrous results in the future, 

 which, alas! did prove true. 



Cobb's Valley was also noted for its delight- 

 ful camping-grounds, running streams, and 

 shady nooks. At the northern extremity a 

 mountain 4000 feet in height, named Uncle 

 Sam, beamed down upon us. Geologists tell us 

 that Uncle vSam bears the proud distinction of 

 being an extinct volcano. The evidences of 

 volcanic action were visible in the rocks; for 

 here was a whole mountain, not far from Uncle 

 Sam, that appeared to be constructed wholly of 

 black glass. 



Our friend the blacksmith again gave us 

 much valuable information. This blacksmith's 

 impressions of California were peculiar. South- 

 ern California, he said, lived ofT the eastern 

 tourist; said tourists are naturally stingy, and 

 spend but little money; consequently the south 

 end of the State is not prosperous. Northern 

 California, on the other hand, depended upon 

 the San Francisco and Oakland tourist, and 

 they spent their money with reckless freedom; 

 therefore this portion of California was the 

 more prosperous. The people and the towns, 

 however, belied his statements, for the song of 



hard times was loud and long; and now and 

 then a town was in the fatal stages of dilapida- 

 tion. In Kelseyville were numerous vacant 

 houses with broken doors, paneless windows, 

 and shutters awry. Near this town we met a 

 tourist leaving the country, and he held a very 

 pronounced opinion in relation to the Swiss 

 features, characterizing them as a delusion and 

 a snare. 



Hurrah! here is Lakeport, and this time the 

 lake. Clear Lake is 28 miles in length, and 10 

 wide. Upon its shore we pitched our camp, 

 tired and dusty. Several of those little gaso- 

 line-launches were puffing to and fro across the 

 lake, giving quite a lively appearance to its 

 placid surface. 



Lakeport is quite a pretty town, with a fine 

 climate. The lake seems to be naturally adapt- 

 ed to the breeding of billions of buffalo-gnats. 

 In the evening, clouds of them surrounded our 

 lantern and persisted upon going to roost in our 

 tent; and in the town the space between win- 

 dows and the screens was several inches deep 





Bjtes 



with dead gnats. The nuisance was, however, 

 only during the evening. In the morning they 

 retired to the tules that lined the shore. And 

 what a beautiful picture our lake presented at 

 sunrise! The air was filled with smoke from 

 forest fires further north; and the sun, as it 

 arose, appeared like a great red ball of fire. The 

 lake, as smooth as a mirror, reflected the sun 

 in a long blood-red pathway across the lake. 

 The moon and its silvery pathway we had 

 witnessed many times upon our lovely eastern 

 lakes, and it has been likened unto angel-walks 

 from earth to heaven; but this blood-red road 

 suggested the pathway of demons from earth 

 to some unknown sphere. 



Before entering Lakeport, Mr. Pryal inform- 

 ed us that there must be a progressive bee- 

 keeper in or near town, for one P. J. Moreley 

 had purchased queens from him. Mr. Pryal 

 took a turn into town after we had camped, 

 and found his man. Mr. Moreley was the lead- 



