AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



445 



bleak desolation wrought by some an- 

 cient cloiid-bnrst, but so gentle a divis- 

 ion of the great, bushed hills that not 

 one rib or scar stands revealed. From 

 base to lower crowns tlie mountains here 

 are rounded, padded, and carpeted by 

 furzy sage aud chaparral, with here and 

 there a glimpse of cool ravines, in which 

 are dark green oaks and silvery-col- 

 umned sycamores. 



Beyond a grove of steepled 

 eucalypti, set here for bees to 

 forage in the Winter, a charm- 

 ing wooded pass winds up 

 through blossoming olives, and 

 nectarine, peach and apple trees, 

 bearing their green burdens of 

 fruit. Behind a hedge of willow, 

 a mountain stream plays a rol- 

 licking tune on the polished 

 white stones of its bed. On its 

 brink, long, yellow-tubed flowers 

 were wet with the spray of its 

 mimic waterfalls. All up the 

 creek and over it, high swinging 

 curtains of wild clematis and 

 honey-suckle dropped their loos- 

 ened petals on sparkling pools 

 and banks of fringed filices. 

 Flame-plumaged birds dived in 

 and out of the branches, caroling 

 vociferously above the petulant 

 peep of their nestlings. On every 

 hillside a galaxy of golden tulips 

 pressed through the tasseled 

 grasses. 



To the right of the road a rude dwelling 

 was half buried in rank vegetation. Be- 

 side it stood the "Twin Oaks" and their 

 brother trees, under which w^ere several 

 liundred hives, all boiling over with zeal- 

 ous workers. 



The honey-house at Twin Oaks is set 

 among the thickets of laurel and sumac, 

 whose buds were reddening toward ad- 

 olescence. Inside the building were 

 stacks of framed honey comb against the 

 rough plaster of the wall, and jars of 

 extracted-honey so clear that ordinary 

 print could be easily read through them. 

 All the work of extracting, canning, and 

 the making of foundation, is done in 

 this clean apartment. The room is 

 usually kept darkened, and at a tem- 

 perature of 85 or 90^, so as to hasten 

 the process of ripening the honey. 



A Bee-Keei>ers' Association has re- 

 cently been started at Los Angeles for 

 the mutual benefit of bee-masters 

 throughout the southern counties. Its 

 members aim to bring about better 

 prices, to enforce proper gradations as 

 to quality before marketing, to open up 

 new markets, etc. 



It is suggested by this enthusiastic 



body that the State University be given 

 its Professor of Apiculture, who shall 

 devote his time to experiment and in- 

 struction in the delightful and profitable 

 study of the rearing of bees. Long ago 

 the State of jNIichigan took this course 

 at her Universty, and to-day she reaps a 

 rich annuity from her Apicultural De- 

 partment, though she lacks the territory 

 of perpetual bloom existing in California. 



STONE HONEi'-HOUSE. 



Coming out of the canyon we found 

 the sun had set. Already the great val- 

 ley was twilight-cast, and a dissolving 

 warmth and balni flooded the atmos- 

 phere. Far off, a low sea-line of mount- 

 ains were dimly traced on the crimson 

 screen of the w^estern sky. Nearer, the 

 massive heads of the Santa Susanna 

 ridge were pillowed on pink, woolly 

 cushions of clouds, and San Fernando's 

 venerable peaks had donned nightcaps 

 of fog. 



The flocks of meadow larks skim- 

 ming the openings chorused their rich 

 soprano, quails scudded and chattered in 

 the underbrush, a mocking-bird chanted 

 a plaintive note from a sheltering elder- 

 berry bush, and down the road, his crest 

 erect, and long tail hoisted sail-wise, a 

 tall chaparral cock raced on before with 

 incredible swiftness. 



On the last drowsy poppy by the way 

 a belated bee, heavily swathed with pol- 

 len, fell a victim to the murderous beak 

 of a king-bird. This was but one of 

 the mournful tragedies of a bee-pasture, 

 for with the bee as with man. Death 

 often lurks among the flowers of life. — 

 NiNETTA Eames, in the Overland Monthly. 



