Autumn Days in Ventura [pp. 1-23]

.8 utumn Days in Ventura.
amount of his crop. The average yearly
product from a hive is seventy pounds,
though in exceptional seasons it has
reached as high as four hundred pounds.
These almost incredible statements remind one that in I844 the report to Congress of California's resources denied
the possibilityof the honey-bee's existing
west of the Sierra Nevadas; yet the
present showing of Ventura's apiaries
is an aggregate of twenty thousand
hives.
Nowhere else is the "busy bee" kept
so busy as in Southern California. Their
forage is inexhaustible, as no month is
wholly devoid of honey flowers. In an
outhouse at "Happy Camp" we found
the strainer that has been the means of
greatly simplifying the process of separating the juice from the comb. A sharp
knife, kept hot by frequent immersion
in boiling water, is used to shave a thin
slice from the comb before the latter is
thrust between two sheets of perforated
wire in an upright cylinder, which is then
swiftly revolved, thus causing the honey
to fly out of the cells, and preserving the
comb to be used again. The juice filters
through a sieve into a large tank, from
which it is drawn off into cans weighing
sixty pounds each.
From oldest time the honey-bee has
been a fascinating study. There is
unique diversion in listening to an old
bee man descant on their peculiarities.
The Italian bee is usually the favorite.
He is hardier and better natured than
the common varieties, besides being a
handsome fellow with his golden-banded
jacket and jaunty business air; but with
all his importance he cannot always
escape the fierce beak of the bee-martin,
the lightning dart of the lizard, nor yet
the stealthy moth, which will kill hundreds in a single night.
It was a long ride back to the Santa
Clara valley, which we entered
"When day with its sounds of joy
Had westward marched with banners furled
From the hills of Saticoy."
On leaving this beautiful valley a week
later we passed out by Saticoy Springs,
which was once the rendezvousof the Indian tribe that gave it its name. Near
here is a cross-road, and we saw coming
toward us an old-fashioned chaise, that
heralded its approach by loud rattlings
and creakings. An ancient lady with
perturbed countenance stopped us with
a motion of the whip, and querulously
inquired the road to New Jerusalem.
"Right ahead, madam. Just follow
after me and you will be sure to get
there." And De Forest politely raised
his hat as he gave the reins to the horses.
Margaret looked shocked, and visibly
stiffened in the seat.
"Poor thing!" De Forest continued,
with a half comic but wholly commiserating glance back at the old lady jogging
sociably behind. "I wonder if she is
going down to be fleeced by those Jews!
The place is given over to Hebrews,
and is consequently called New Jerusalem."
This was too much for even Margaret's
gravity, and we both laughed outright.
We passed through the dusty little town
half buried in her dismantled corn-fields.
Three miles from Hueneme we came to
green pastures of alfalfa, in which were
horses feeding. An avenue of bannered
gums led up between to a fine residence,
with symmetrical gardens falling away
on every side. A carriage came down
the drive-way drawn by dapple grays.
There was something at once so mettlesome yet gentle about these high-bred
animals that Margaret gave a cry of delight.
" They are pure-blooded Richmonds,"
her uncle said, his eyes admiringly turned on the perfectly matched beauties.
We stopped at the stables to see more
of the horses, which are the best thorough-bred and trotting stock in all these
parts. One of them, a superb chestnut
stallion, is his master's special favorite.
"I call him Ulster Wilkes, after his
father, Guy Wilkes, who has a record of
18
[Jan.