463 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



June 15. 



part adobe and part of more modern architec- 

 ture, had a fine setting of sycamore-trees be- 

 hind it, while the climbing rose hid a corner of 

 the white adobe, all making a picture of loveli- 

 ness. Too many times had he in this journey 

 up the river seen some of nature's beauty spots 

 marred by rude cabins with unkempt and re- 

 pulsive surroundings, and this, too, in a country 

 where the vine is ever striving to hide the 

 deformities of nature, and is ready, if merely 

 planted by the hand of man, to cover the rough 

 boards of cabin or fence, and make them things 

 of beauty. 



As Fred turned his gaze toward the flowing 

 river the episode of the previous day came to 

 mind, and he reflected upon the ease with 

 which one will forget recent experiences when 

 something new and of absorbing interest takes 

 possession of the mind; and Fred now found 

 his whole nature absorbed in the beautiful sur- 

 roundings, in the residence, and, above all, in 

 the lovely inmate, though she was so sadly 

 demented. With these thoughts in mind, and 

 while looking far beyond the river into the 

 blue unfathomed depths of a California sky, 

 he felt as never before that the 

 mystery of life and of love was^fuUy 

 as deep and unfathomed. 



While thus absorbed, a hand rest- 

 ed lightly upon his shoulder, and a 

 musical voice said, "Mr. Anderson, 

 papa is ready." The action was so 

 natural, the touch so gentle and so 

 unlike the Alfaretta of the pi'evious 

 day, that Fred was thrilled as by 

 an electric shock, and his hopes 

 came rushing back from the un- 

 fathomed depths into which they 

 had plunged. A moment later, how- 

 ever, the thrill was succeeded by a 

 chill, for his companion said, "Fred- 

 dy, see my teeth," and the uncanny 

 grimace followed. 



Without a word Fred strode de- 

 terminedly to the little wharf, and 

 insisted that he be allowed to row 

 the boat. After some parleying Mr. Buell 

 granted the favor. As he vigorously plied the 

 oars he felt as though he would like to dig the 

 whole river up; and as he sent the boat spin- 

 ning through the water, his desperate looks and 

 strokes caused Mr. and Mrs. Buell to exchange 

 glances, as much as to say to each other, " I 

 wonder if he is going crazy too;" but Fred had 

 to find vent for his wrought-up feelings, and a 

 mile of such rowing brought some relief; and 

 at the end of three miles his turbulent thoughts 

 had regained their wonted calm. Here at 

 Ghering's Wharf Mr. Buell relieved Fred at 

 the oars as they approached Ghering's Landing, 

 and here he parted with the people who treated 

 him with such kindness. A pressing invitation 

 was given him to visit them soon and often. 



As the boat drew away from the wharf where 

 Fred was standing, Alfaretta waved a farewell, 

 and sang again her well-worn song, " My lover 

 is on the sea," etc. Fred watched them until 

 they rounded the blufl', and then turned his 

 attention to the new work in hand. 



A short walk of five minutes and he was in 

 front of Ghering's cabin. The evidences of 

 bachelorhood were plainly visible, for the 

 bachelor was preparing the noonday meal. 

 The stove, table, and culinary utensils were all 

 arranged under an awning of tules. A stranger 

 on the ranch was evidently not an every-day 

 occurrence, for the cook and three ranch hands 

 who were just coming in from the fields looked 

 with some curiosity upon the new comer. 



"Is this Mr. Ghering?" said Fred, address- 

 ing the cook. 



"Yes, sir. that's my name; and I'm a free 

 and easy Pennsylvania Dutchman; and where 

 do you hail from, if I may ask?" 



" My name is Fred Anderson, and I am from 

 the Pine-tree State." 



" L^^t me see; that's North Carliny, ain't it? " 

 said Ghering. 



DINNER AT GHEKING S RANCH. 



"Oh. no," said Fred; "it is Maine — I am 

 from Maine." 



" Yes, yes, sure; I ought to haiT known that; 

 but its so long since I half studied geography 

 or even thought much of those distant Eastern 

 States that I hafif forgotten all I ever knew 

 about them." 



" Mr. Ghering," said Fred, "while in Sacra- 

 mento I learned that you had an apiary for 

 sale or to rent, and I have run up here to see 

 you about it." 



"Ap-i-e-ry — a pi-ry — what in the dickens is 

 that, any way? Say, Matt," said he, turning 

 to one of the men. " what is an apry ? " 



" Sure, Misther Ghering, it's meself that can 

 tell yees. It's a corral where they keeps all 

 kinds of birds, agreeable loike— aigles, hum- 



