938 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Dec. 15. 



He said, " Whistle, daughter, whistle, 



And I'll give to you a man." 

 She said, " I never whistled, father, 

 But I'll do the best I can." 



This dear daughter whom we met had evi- 

 dently a predilection for the cow— sensible dear! 



A little further along, two more dear young 

 ladies were rounding up a band of horses. True 

 to the instincts of a dear-hunter, (dear) Wilder 

 was anxious to mingle in the fray. These dears 

 had evidently progressed from the cow whistle, 

 and might be indulging in the more ambitious 

 whistle for the man. I was determined my 

 partner shouldn't be the man; put whip to the 

 ponies, observing that the dears were remark- 

 ably vigorous and healthy in appearance. I 

 further observed that they could rope a horse 

 better than W. could, and he would only make 

 them a subject for jest in his efforts to help; 

 that they were evidently in their sphere, " and 

 I am glad of it," said I. " It is just as well to 

 have cowgirls as cowboys." 



We got safely past the dear ones; but there 

 was something wrong in my remarks, for the 

 watchful fates somehow turned the ankle of my 

 pony Reina, and she went lame. We had some 

 anxiety over it ; and when we came to a way- 

 side house in the middle of the afternoon I was 

 willing to camp. A near approach to the house 

 proved it to be a wayside saloon. There were 

 three women under the awning, and a Spanish 

 youth. I wished to make amends for what I 

 had said about the cowgirls, and found these 

 ladies, of various ages, so sociable that I want- 

 ed to camp right oflf. One of them, further- 

 more, reminded me of an old maiden aunt back 

 east. 



" Why, Wilder," said I, "just see how home- 

 like and sociable it looks under that awning. 

 Then, they say there's no water until we get to 

 Creston. Our Reina is lame, and they are so 

 sociable." 



But Wilder was inexorable, just as I was in 

 the recent dear-episode. He called them all old 

 bilks, or something to that effect; didn't like 

 their saloon principles, and didn't believe it 

 best to stay. The Mexicans' eyes followed our 

 movements, with a basilisk look, and I finally 

 concluded, with Mr. Wilder, that we had better 

 proceed. From his remarks about the ladies I 

 expected his pony Keno to get lame; but he did 

 not. Another coyote crossed our path, but van- 

 ished too suddenly for a shot. We found plenty 

 of water along the way, proving that the three 

 women saloon-keepers were lurers, and we re- 

 joiced that we escaped their lures. We camped 

 that night in Creston ; and the next day, after 

 a slow and toilsome drive with our lame pony, 

 we entered the thriving town of El Paso de Ro- 

 bles (the Pass of the Oaks), called Paso Robles 

 for short. In all the country passed over, there 

 was no pasturage for bees, and but few were 

 seen upon the flowers ; and, so far as we could 

 learn, there were no bee-keepers except in a 

 very small way. The Pass of the Oaks is a 



beautiful country dotted with the noble oak- 

 trees. The town is noted for its hot sulphur 

 springs, and is much of a health-resort. We 

 camped under one of the oaks shown in the 

 photo, and here we will rest until our next 



ramble. 



^ I — ^ 



THE FAMILIAR FLAVOR OF HONEY. 



WHENCE DOES IT COME? 

 SHADES OF THE SUGAK-HONEY QUESTION. 



By C. TV. Dayton. 



It has been asserted, that the natural flavor 

 imparted to honey through the manipulation of 

 it by the bees is a musty flavor. Flavor is sup- 

 posed to be derived from the wax of the comb ; 

 also, it is claimed that formic acid is added by 

 the bees. Together with the fact that it is by a 

 particular set of bees that the honey is placed 

 in the cells, goes the other fact that these same 

 workers take special pains to retain said honey 

 in their honey-sacs for a considerable space of 

 time. And it seems reasonable to inquire wheth- 

 er this retention should not render up some sort 

 of account. It was observed that, when a colo- 

 ny stored 10 lbs. of thick sugar syrup per day, 

 it retained the sugar taste ; but if allowed to 

 handle only 4 lbs. a day, it tasted like honey. 

 When 4 lbs. of sugar, mixed with 6 lbs. of water, 

 is fed, it may amount to about the same as slow 

 feeding of thick syrup. The cause of the men- 

 tioned flavors is theory; but that nectar or syr- 

 up is retained in the stomachs of the bees is not 

 theory. Evaporation or extraction of water 

 from syrup or nectar is a matter of water and 

 less water, and not a confusing change. Per- 

 sons who were opposed to sugar syrup being 

 changed to honey were known to partake of 

 sugar honey at every meal for a week, mistak- 

 ing it for sage; and one who had produced 

 honey for many years pronounced the same the 

 best honey he had ever sampled! For more 

 than one reason it is not advisable to produce 

 sugar honey; but before transforming into a 

 mountain of opposition it is well to find a rea- 

 son, and then make sure that the reason has a 

 foundation. Even if there is not disclosed any 

 avenue for pecuniary gain, it may not exclude 

 the possibility of other advantage. 



It was said of Faraday, that, had he possessed 

 much wealth, it would have been an incum- 

 brance to him, the care of it thwarting his 

 more cherished plans. As reasonably insist 

 that hens lay stale eggs as that the change in 

 sugar syrup comes from waxen cells, or musti- 

 ness from bee manipulation; or, if bees do alter 

 or digest it, there should be a limit to their abil- 

 ity in that direction. 



This season I fed 100 lbs. of sugar syrup over 

 and over again until there was very little left, 

 to see of how many sections it would draw out 

 the foundation. It constantly improved, so that 

 the last was the best of all. Some appear to 



