L889 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



31 



away off alone in the wilderness waiting for 

 a train. The train never stops here unless 

 some one burns a newspaper and waves it 

 across the track to let them see that some- 

 body wants to get on. As it is awful dark, 

 and papa has got to wait over an hour, he 

 has built a fire of sticks, and the kiotes have 

 come up as near the fire as they dare, and 

 are making an awful barking and growling. 

 Papa is almost afraid some bad men might 

 see the fire, and come to rob him. Pretty 

 soon he hears somebody. It is a man who 

 has been up in the mountains digging gold, 

 and he shows papa by the light of the fire 

 the gold he dug to-day. Pretty soon an- 

 other awful big man comes up, swearing 

 fearfully, because he says nobody will give 

 him work, and he hasn't any money. Papa 

 is awful glad the other man is there, and he 

 gives the bad man a real good talking-to, 

 because he swears so bad. Then the bad 

 man pulls out a bottle of whisky and wants 

 us to drink ; but when he finds we are both 

 temperance men he goes off in the dark, 

 swearing harder, and saying he never saw 

 two such men before in his life, that won't 

 drink when somebody offers to give it to 

 them ! Just here the old locomotive came 

 in sight; the gold miner waved the burning 

 paper, and we were soon in the cars among 

 nice people. In just a few minutes more 

 we stopped at a nice town where supper 

 was all ready, and a man was pounding a 

 gong to get us to come in and eat it. Now 

 just think how funny ! This gold miner 

 knows Uncle Hen's cousin, and he is going 

 to help me to find him. He also asked me 

 to go with him out in the mountains and see 

 him dig gold, but I don't think I shall have 

 time. 



Dec. 5.— There are now but few small bee- 

 keepers in California— at least I have not 

 found them. I have visited nearly a dozen 

 apiaries, and few of them are less than 300. 

 Most of them admit that a smaller number 

 would do better in one locality, but the con- 

 venience of having all in one place overbal- 

 ances. Most of them live in the towns, and 

 have their bees located in the mountains, 

 and look after them only occasionally, ex- 

 cept during the honey-flow. Mclntyre, 

 Arundel, the Reasoner Bros., our old friend 

 Lechler (who gave us that wonderful report 

 some years ago), Marple, and Sniflin, all live 

 near their bees. I am greatly indebted to the 

 first three for leaving their work and pass- 

 ing me from one to the other, over and 

 through the mountains, and up the can- 

 yons. A good many, I find, are discard- 

 ing the hexagonal apiary, or, rather, modi- 

 fying it so as to have the hives stand in dou- 

 ble rows, radiating from a common center 

 like the spokes of a wheel. The alley form- 

 ed between the double rows is for running a 

 cart or wheelbarrow through, for carrying 

 the honey to the honey-house, the entrances 

 to the hives being all turned outward, so 

 that the operator and cart never stand in the 

 way of the flight of the bees. Friend Reas- 

 oner has grapevines also, planted near the 

 hives for shade, with this form of apiary. 

 His hives are all neatly painted. Friend 

 Lechler has his in long rows under live-oak 

 trees, and says he always gets most honey 



from hives in densest shade. This is an im- 

 portant item. Another thing in favor of 

 shade-trees is, that they take the strength 

 (or moisture) from the ground so thorough- 

 ly that no weeds grow, aud the ground un- 

 der the trees is as clean as a floor. Almost 

 all agree that, where many hives are all 

 alike, the bees are constantly going into the 

 hives on the outside of the apiary. I think 

 this should be corrected by having the 

 hives made more unlike in some way. 



Friend Reasoner helped me to ascend the 

 first big mountain. I say helped, for I could 

 not well have done it alone. I wanted to see 

 the end, or termination, of a canyon, so we 

 took a light cart, or sulky, and a big strong 

 horse. When the horse began to get tired 

 he walked while 1 drove along on the wind- 

 ing slope, all the time on the edge of a 

 frightful abyss. When the horse got tired 

 with me alone, I too went afoot until we 

 came to the dividing ridge. Here the can- 

 yon ends ; but right over the edge of the 

 sharp ridge another canyon begins, taking 

 the water in an opposite direction, and thus 

 it is there are no mountains without their 

 accompanying water-courses. 



Well, my friend said he would stay with 

 the horse on the ridge, while I walked along 

 it until I came to a higher elevation, a real 

 mountain peak. Strange to tell, the ground 

 on these mountain peaks is soft and yield- 

 ing, and mellow enough for a beautiful gar- 

 den. As I went up, up, the sides became 

 steeper ; and as I gazed into the frightful 

 abyss all around I became dizzy ; then my 

 throat began to be dry and to smart, and 

 finally my ears began to feel strangely on 

 account of the rarity of the air. Once I be- 

 gan to think of going back, as my breath 

 got so short ; then I discovered a faint path 

 across the side-hill at an angle, and this I 

 found much easier. Spanish bayonets were 

 all around me, and their leaves were so 

 sharp they went right through my clothing, 

 so I had to pick my way. The summit is 

 finally reached, and from the dizzy height I 

 see only other summits like my own, in ev- 

 ery direction except toward the ocean. I 

 could not see its waters, but there seemed a 

 sort of vacancy in that direction. All 

 around was one vast solitary ruin of nature. 

 My friend and his horse looked like rats, 

 and yet they were up miles from the valley 

 below. I was surprised to find these moun- 

 tain peaks quite well frequented by different 

 kinds of wild animals, as was evident by their 

 excrement, which was so plentiful and some 

 of it of such large size I guessed it must 

 have been from bears and mountain lions, 

 as well as wildcats and smaller animals. I 

 do not know what should call them to these 

 extreme peaks. I judged they were mostly 

 flesh-eating animals. .Mountains are won- 

 derfully deceptive to the uninitiated. Mr. 

 Mclntyre told me a peak before the house 

 was two miles away, when it was apparently 

 right close by. I could not lvalize it until 

 he pointed out some animals near its sum- 

 mit, and asked me what they were. They 

 were little specks that I thought might be 

 small pigs until he told me they were cows. 

 Again, we often came to the " end of the 

 road," apparently. The mountain was sure- 



