GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Oct. 1. 



that had been dumped out in one of the alleys 

 of Tempe. He was poking over the trash, 

 thinking he might find something to eat, or 

 pick up some broken dishes, or something of 

 the sort, to carry home. I was astonished. My 

 hero of the feathers had taken a sad tumble. 

 Afterward I saw other Indians picking up 

 dirty, nasty feathers from dust-heaps in order 

 to stick them in their hair in a like manner. 

 These Indians are human beings; they are 

 God's children, like ourselves: but what a dif- 

 ference education and surroundings make I If 

 a white man should tix up his hair in that way. 

 and deck himself with feathers, and then 

 parade the streets in order to attract attention, 

 we would decide at once that he was stark mad 

 — downright crazy, and very fit for the asylum. 

 But these Indians are not crazy at all. It is 

 only because they look at things in a different 

 way. Some of them can chop wood, and are 

 quite expert with an ax; but they do no regular 

 work. In fact, they rarely work at all unless 

 they take a fancy to a special dress or some 

 extra fine feathers. The whole race seems to 

 be in a state of childhood; but yet now and 

 then we have occasionally a character that 

 shows the possibilities that lie dormant and 

 undeveloped under that dusky skin. One might 

 think, when the Indian looks upon the whites, 

 and sees the progress we have made, that they 

 would feel sad and discouraged. From what I 

 can learn, however, it is just the other way. 

 The Indians, both men and women, especially 

 the most ignorant and savage, seem to feel 

 themselves far above us. They even laugh in 

 our faces to think we take so much pains to 

 build houses, put up machinery, and all that, 

 when after all it does not amount to any thing 

 comparatively — a great fuss for little or nothing. 

 Tempe, like the rest of Arizona, seems to be a 

 sort of enchanted land or new world. Nothing 

 thei'e is as it is here at home, and few things 

 are even like California. Right close to the 

 town— in fact, right in the town— rises one of 

 those abrupt rocky mountains. They call it 

 the Butte (pronounced hewt). and the view from 

 it is so striking that some one or more persons 

 are looking off' from its summit almost every 

 hour in the day. In fact, the smoke from the 

 city of Phoenix, the capital of the Territory, is 

 plainly visible from the top of this butte. The 

 meanderings of Salt River, as well as the rail- 

 road along its shores, are very plain and quite 

 pretty. The houses, th(^ people, the customs 

 of Tempe, are in great part borrowed from the 

 Mexicans and Indians that form a large part 

 of the population. What would you think of 

 a drygoods store, and a tolerably fine one too. 

 for a city of two or three thousand inhabitants, 

 that did not have a window in it anywhere? 

 How do they display their goods? Why, they 

 put them on the shelves as we do. and then 

 open the wide front doors. These front doors 

 are always open, winter and summer, in the 

 daytime. I do not know how they manage 

 when they have a driving rain. Perhaps they 

 turn their customers, loafers and all. out into 

 the street, and then lock up until the rain is 

 over. Irrigating-ditches are everywhere, and 

 the roads and streets are principally laid out to 

 accommodate said ditches. There is no timber 

 nor trees of any sort unless we call the great 

 cacti trees — except along these irrigating- 

 ditches; and these are bordered by fine growths 

 of Cottonwood. In fact. I never saw cotton- 

 wood, nor any other tree or plant, grow with 

 such luxuriance as do these cottonwoods along 

 the ditches. When they want to set out a belt 

 of trees they just chop down a big cottonwood, 

 and cut it up into poles or sticks. Sometimes 

 the sticks are not larger than your finger, nor 

 longer than stovewood: but just stick these 



into the ground, near water, and they will all 

 grow. Artificial forests are no myth in Arizona, 

 and there seems to be almost no failure. Cot- 

 tonwoods two or three feet through may be 

 seen along these ditches: and if one wants a 

 shanty or stable for his stock, he sets up poles 

 or crotches to hold the poles. If an irrigating- 

 ditch is anywhere near the poles and crotches 

 they will all grow. In fact. I saw them making 

 cuttings in the month of January from pears, 

 apples, peaches, and apricots, and from all the 

 trees growing in the nuiseries, for all I know, 

 and all they had to do to make these cuttings 

 grow was to stick them close up to the irrigat- 

 ing-ditches— so near that the water would soak 

 through and keep them constantly wet. The 

 climate and soil do the rest. _ 



I visited some of the Chinese gardens, but 

 they had nothing that pleased me as well as 

 the garden-stuff' that grows hrre in the East. 

 I do not know whether it is the Chinese or the 

 climate. I am well aware they grow fruits 

 equal or superior to any in the world; but I 

 doubt their being able to grow general garden- 

 stuff equal to ours. As I was there only in the 

 winter time, however, I may be mistaken. A 

 good deal has been said about the wonderful 

 skill of the Chinese in making garilens. lean 

 not quite agree with this. The Chinese never 

 read an agricultural paper. I do not believe 

 they ever look at our seed catalogues, and they 

 know nothing of new varieties. Most of their 

 products are the result of common seed, oi' seed 

 of common sorts. If a Chinese market-gardener 

 wants some seeds he goes into a seedstore and 

 simply says. "■ Led ladish." He means by this 

 that he wants seed that will produce reel 

 radishes. There being no sound ofrin their 

 language, they use I in its place. If he wants 

 to plant some peas he asks for peas: and when 

 the seedsman asks him what kind, he holds his 

 hand over the ctjunter to indicate that he wants 

 peas that grow short. If he wants tall ones he 

 puts his hand up higher. That is all he knows 

 about it — peas that are tall and peas that are 

 short. He never uses any sort of improved im- 

 plement — no modern cultivators— none of the 

 hand wheel-hoes. Our good friends Posson & 

 Son, who sell our bee-hive material at Portland. 

 Ore., tried in vain to introduce the Planet 

 wheel-hoes and seed-drills among the Chinese. 

 They thought once they had got the thing 

 started: but the Chinamen all combined to- 

 gether, and. through some superstitious fear, 

 or something else, persuaded their comrade to 

 carry back all his new-fangled tools; and, if I 

 remember correctly, their reward for trying to 

 do these benighted heathen a favor ended in 

 getting their ill will: and I presume they verily 

 believe to this day that the white man tried to 

 do them a great and lasting injury. Now. I 

 protest against letting this class of people drive 

 intellieent horticultui'e out of any community. 



Even the water in the wells of Arizona is "on 

 the contrary." Here in the East, if we want a 

 nice drink of water we go for the old oaken 

 bucket, but not so in Arizona. All the water 

 in all the wells that I found on the desert is too 

 warm to drink. If you want it cold, and have 

 no ice, you must let it stand in the open air 

 until it cools off'. During the nighttime and 

 in winter it gets to he cool enough to be quite 

 refreshing. In the summer time, however, and 

 during the daytime in winter, they get it cool 

 by the use of the well-known Indian ola — a jar 

 made of porous earthenware, large enough to 

 hold from one up to five and even ten gallons. 

 These water-jars are suspended somewhere in 

 the shade, but where they can catch all the 

 breeze. They are then covei'ed with some coarse 

 cloth, like burlap or bagging. The porous 

 nature of the eai'thenware permits enough 



