the chief industries, as they require less skill
and care, while the profits thus far have been greater. In 1856 honey
sold here at from one and a half to two dollars per pound. Twelve years
later the price had fallen to twelve and a half cents. In 1868 I sat
down to dinner with a band of ravenous sheep-shearers at a ranch on the
San Joaquin, where fifteen or twenty hives were kept, and our host
advised us not to spare the large pan of honey he had placed on the
table, as it was the cheapest article he had to offer. In all my walks,
however, I have never come upon a regular bee-ranch in the Central
Valley like those so common and so skilfully managed in the southern
counties of the State. The few pounds of honey and wax produced are
consumed at home, and are scarcely taken into account among the coarser
products of the farm. The swarms that escape from their careless owners
have a weary, perplexing time of it in seeking suitable homes. Most of
them make their way to the foot-hills of the mountains, or to the trees
that line the banks of the rivers, where some hollow log or trunk may be
found. A friend of mine, while out hunting on the San Joaquin, came upon
an old coon trap, hidden among some tall grass, near the edge of the
river, upon which he sat down to rest. Shortly afterward his attention
was attracted to a crowd of angry bees that were flying excitedly about
his head, when he discovered that he was sitting upon their hive, which
was found to contain more than 200 pounds of honey. Out in the broad,
swampy delta of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers, the little
wanderers have been known to build their combs in a bunch of rushes, or
stiff, wiry grass, only slightly protected from the weather, and in
danger every spring of being carried away by floods. They have the
advantage, however, of a vast extent of fresh pasture, accessible only
to themselves.

The present condition of the Grand Central Garden is very different from
that we have sketched. About twenty years ago, when the gold placers had
been pretty thoroughly exhausted, the attention of fortune-seekers--not
home-seekers--was, in great part, turned away from the mines to the
fertile plains, and many began experiments in a kind of restless, wild
agriculture. A load of lumber would be hauled to some spot on the free
wilderness, where water could be easily found, and a rude box-cabin
built. Then a gang-plow was procured, and a dozen mustang ponies, worth
ten o