AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



107 



nobody had heard that there was to be 

 such a convention. I, as an old reporter, 

 sought the staff of a local paper — the 

 Evening Bee — and they were ignorant 

 that they were to be favored with a 

 gathering of bee-men, or that two such 

 distinguished scientists as Prof. Cook 

 and Mr. Root were to visit the city 

 (though one reporter had a vague recol- 

 lection that a circular came to the Bee a 

 number of weeks previous, and hinted 

 that it would be a good idea to have a 

 convention of Northern California bee- 

 keepers at the capital city). I did not 

 give up the hunt for the main objects of 

 my visit, though the rain had commenced 

 to fall at a lively rate, and I had no um- 

 brella or overshoes with me — it was fair 

 and fine at Oakland when I left it on the 

 evening of Dec. 15. I looked over the 

 registers in all of the leading hotels : 

 even made a couple of trips to the State 

 Library, thinking that the names I 

 sought might be recorded on the regis- 

 ter of visitors. But 'twas all in vain. I 

 could not get to the root of my trouble, 

 and my "goose " seemed to be ^'cooked.'' 



As the day of Dec. 16 was, as I inti- 

 mated before, dark and dreary, and the 

 wind was never weary, I concluded to 

 get out of the city as soon as possible. 

 I was disgusted. My trip was a fruit- 

 less one. I was out of pocket ; there 

 woiild be nothing in it for me, as I was 

 going to report the convention on space 

 rates. If the bee-men, big and small, 

 materialized, I could have written them 

 up, I am pretty sure, for all they were 

 worth. But I never knew how worthless 

 men were (to a reporter, of course) 

 when they did not come up to see and be 

 seen — to talk and be talked to. 



All I cared to see in Sacramento I saw 

 in a little over an hour. I had been in 

 the place a number of times before. The 

 distance from where I live is about 96 

 miles, I believe, and is made on the rail- 

 road in about 33^ hours. I was last 

 there 33^ years ago; since then it had 

 improved but little. It is the same 

 shabby, dirty and non-progressive city. 



The most striking new building in the 

 place is the new Catholic Cathedral of 

 the Holy Sacrament, built of brick. It 

 is the largest church edifice in the city, 

 and is, perhaps, as fine as any church, 

 architecturally considered, in California. 

 It is 200x170 feet in dimensions, and 

 the spire is 234 feet higher than the top 

 of the dome of the eapitol. 



The city has electric cars now — but 

 Oakland, Los Angeles, San Jose and San 

 Diego also have them, and San Francisco 

 will in a few months. 



Sacramento has some nice gardens 

 and private residences, but they do not 

 compare with those I see where I live, 

 and at Oakland and Berkeley, near 

 home. But then the orange trees in the 

 Sacramento gardens gi'ow larger and 

 produce finer fruit than any I saw in the 

 cities or towns near Oakland or San 

 Francisco. " The city of the Holy 

 Sacrament" — that being the English of 

 Sacramento — has streets that are really 

 shocking. All the main streets have 

 been raised some ten feet, to bring them 

 on a level with the levee, so as to escape 

 being covered with water should the 

 river embankment break in time of a 

 rise In the river near by. In the morn- 

 ing after my arrival the streets were 

 passably fair, save their dingy appear- 

 ance. Well, after a few hours' rain, 

 they were the dirtiest and muddiest 

 Streets I ever saw. And the sidewalks ! 

 "They were just too nasty for any- 

 thing," as the school-girl would say. 

 Unlike the other large cities in this 

 State, Sacramento has not commenced 

 to put down fine roadways and side- 

 walks. Oakland and San Jose have 

 miles of line streets— cither macadamized 

 or bituminized, with cement or bitumi- 

 nous sidewalks, and all perfectly clean 

 during and after a rain. 



Sacramento is no place for bees — that 

 is, I would not keep bees there, though 

 I must say there is one man there — hold 

 on, you're a little too fast — two men, 

 Messrs. Sheehan and McClatchy, who 

 own just two bees between them — the 

 Daily and the W^eekly Bee, and there 

 are no other two bees in the great honey- 

 producing State of California that make 

 as much money (if they do not make 

 honey) as these two bees, especially the 

 former. The Bee is a fine evening 

 paper, and is well managed and edited. 



At 7 p.m. of Dec. 16, I took the 

 Stockton local, and in an hour and a 

 half, after stopping at several small 

 towns c?i roMte, I was at the "City of 

 Windmills,"' or, as it is more recently 

 called, the "City of Flouring Mills," or 

 "Gas Wells.'" Stockton is 48 miles 

 south of Sacramento, -and lies on the old 

 overland road to Oakland. No more 

 overland trains go that way, as they 

 take the airline vUi Benicia and Port 

 Costa.. 



At the strait of Carquinez the train, 

 with its locomotive, is carried from 

 Benicia to Port Costa on a monster 

 transfer boat, , the "Solano." The 

 steamer has four powerful engines 

 working four walking beams, which 

 turn the big paddlewheel. Besides the 

 regular locomotive of the train, a second 



