16 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Jan. 1. 



RAMBLE 158. 

 Bee- keeping in Northern California. 



BY RAMBEER. 



We were in a mining town, where the neces- 

 sities of life ruled high in price, and the food 

 question was of some interest to Mr. Levering 

 and myself. Five dollars a week was the 

 regular price for board ; and we entertained 

 the idea that, with proper economy in bach- 

 ing, we could save enough to pay us for in- 

 dulging in that mode of life. In fact, I was 

 so used to it that I preferred it ; and in times 

 of yore the judge had practiced it. His late 



department. But with the very first break- 

 fast I knew something was the matter with 

 the judge's gastronomy. He did not say 

 much, but the cakes were evidently lacking 

 some ingredient his grandma used to insert. 



Now, some of the leading bee-men in Cali- 

 fornia, and some Eastern bee-men, and even 

 John Calvert, had all eaten my famous cakes, 

 and pronounced them good ; and now here in 

 this lonely mountain fastness the judge turned 

 his plate against them. I was so disappointed 

 that my interest in pancakes waned from that 

 moment, and I stopped their manufacture. 



Some mornings after this stoppage the judge 

 surprised me by remarking that he was pan- 



BACHING IT AT AN OUT-YARD IN A LONELY MOUNTAIN FASTNESS. 



brother was a bach, and, having all the tools 

 necessary for promoting the enterprise, why 

 not? 



We accordingly set up our household gods 

 in the little old cabin near the apiary. The 

 judge occupied one corner of the cabin with 

 his bed, while the other side and corner were 

 occupied by an ample fireplace and stove. 

 The dormitory where I spread my folding cot 

 was in a brand-new building termed the 

 vinegar-house. The late Mr. Levering made 

 quantities of the latter beverage from honey, 

 and there was 18 barrels of it on the premises. 

 I felt perfectly safe in sleeping in the room, 

 on account of the strong "motherly " influ- 

 ence that made itself known to the sense of 

 smell. 



In cooking we at first divided the honors, 

 and I started in blithely upon the pancake 



cake hungry, and he believed he would make 

 some. It is needless to say that my interest 

 in that department revived, and 1 was all 

 attention to the new mode of manufacture. 

 The second move he made, however, com- 

 menced a series of discouragements to my 

 eating them, for he used soda, which I do no't 

 like, and so strong that the odor of the cakes 

 while faking had a stunning influence upon 

 the flies, which were plentiful in the room. 

 Then I could see by the way they bellied 

 down in the center that they would be as 

 tough as a piece of leather. Did I eat any of 

 those cakes? No, sir! I was anxious to live 

 through the summer, and I resisted every time 

 the judge passed the plate to me. He was 

 evidently disappointed at my refusal, and pro- 

 ceeded to dispatch them himself. Now, some 

 bee-men and others have an idea that the 



