Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 October 1875 — Wild-Honey Gathering in California. [ARTICLE]

Wild-Honey Gathering in California.

The New York Graphic correspondent with the Wheeler expedition in Southern California gives the following account of an adventure after wild honey: Looking upon our discomfiture, Jefl had pity for us, and volunteered to lead us to a cave where honey was certain, for he had seen it. With implicit trust and two huge camp-pails we followed him to a cool and green canon, bounded on one side by a high cliff of white rock, one of the brows of Piedra Blanca, into which time or the ancient waters had eaten many a cavity and niche. Near its foot, in a succession of springs, the water gushed from holes in the rock as from the scuppers of a ship. Wild vines and flowers of columbine and feathery ferns drooped over the mouths of these fountains, whose streams rushed on to tret over the bowlders at the bottom of the rapids, or linger in some pool and give joy to the trout there. It was a most beautiful .place, and we were not the first whom its beauty had refreshed, as was evident from the traces of an old camp which had been here in days long gone. A post or two of a shanty yet remained, and a short and rude ladder, which led to a long shelf and portico which wound along the rock. It was to these old settlers, hunters, prospecters, or whoever they were, that we owed thanks for. these coveted sweets, for in some leisure hour they had hewn a trough from a short log ana split out a slab of wood for a cover, and placed the vessel high out of the reach of the bears in a half-dome, which was above the shelf and portico. Then, having done this good deed, they went their way, into other territories perhaps, and left the hive for the bees to fill and other hands than theirs to empty, as a pilgrim eats fruit on the wayside, and, mindful of others to come, plants the seed by the road and journeys on. - All of us, eao;er and brave and hungry, mounted the ledge bv way of the ladder which had been placed there as a stairway to the upper floor, which may have .served as a store-room, fortress or sleep ing chamber for those who once lived beneath. Then Jeff clambered into the cave to subdue the bees and open the trough, while we remained below to render him what assistance he might need. The hunter carefully wound a square foot of gunny cloth around a bit of twig, lighted it, and waving this smudge about him, dispensing smoke as from a censer, he sickened the vagabond bees that were out and made them harmless. Next he inserted the edge of the ax under the lid and lifted it slightly, giving us our first view of the riches within. Aroused by this invasion the little people rushed forth in great numbers, and, avoiding the smoke and their immediate enemy, shot at us defenseless wretches and sought to wreak their vengeance on us, whose outlet of escape was now cut off by their pickets, who guarded the pass. A scene of the greatest consternation followed. To leap from the rock promised disaster from the fall, for it was twenty feet down; to attempt the ladder was to rush into the jaws of death; to fight them was brave, but unavailing; and to be cool and composed was impossible, for it takes; a very deliberate man to preserve lift composure when there is a bee in his whisker. It was then that Smith, imitating die ostrich, thrust his head into a pot-hole in the rock and was safe, for the implements of the foe were too delicate to pierce his canvas overclothes. Lee, stung to desperate action by the first bee, fled the coming wrath by leaping down the precipice and sprained his ankle, which accident father marred his enjoyment of the torments of those who were left behind. The Lieutenant, true to his profession, stood his ground manfully, doing battle with his big hat for a weapon, until stung in every available inch of his person, when he, too, retired down the ladder, but hardly in good order. Your correspondent, imitatingold JefPs style of armor, shrunk what he could of his vulnerable surface into the second iron pail, and, what with the butting of the bees, felt a sensation as if he had his head in one of those kettledrums used at the Bunker Hill Centennial. But even with this precaution some dozens of bees managed to entangle themselves in his hair, where they became angry and excited—to creep down his shirt collar, taking soundings as they went, and to flutter in droves up and down his hand,

where their feet were as soft as velvet until they felt the first quiver of life in his flesh, when their painful part would become manifest. Meanwhile, ever and anon, Old Jeff, waving his smudge before him, would lift his helmet from his brow and ask us pleasantly if we got any bites. It was nearly dark before the stubborn insects were subjugated and crawled in a dismayed heap on the side of the trough. The lid was fully lifted then, and we feasted our eyes before feasting our tongues. Oh, they were beautiful, those layers of comb, suspended from the plank and dripping their liquid sweetness. The bees had commenced their work in one corner, bifilding across the angle and then continued in parallel strata which ran diagonally across the box. The more recent of these were white and spotless and new; the older formation was a trifle waxy and inferior with age. There were a few hundred pounds of honey in this box, and when our two large buckets were heaped to the brim a half of the store was yet untouched. And it was bright moonlight when we shouldered our plunder and stumbled our way back to camp, where supper was awaiting us, at which the hunter and his daughter were our guests. In the morning we were a demoralized outfit. Throughout the night we had chased the live bees from our clothing as a Turk hunts fleas. These and the ants, drawn to us by the savory drippings with which we were smeared, had given us a sleepless vigil. Old Jeff’s hands were puffed up beyond all recognition by the poisonous wounds receivedm the ripe of the honey, for, in the dark, touch a comb where you would, you were sure to lay your finger on the sharp end of a bee. Lee doctored his ankle and said that henceforth he would be contented to get his honey as he got his game—that is, to buy it by the pound. The topographer’s instrumental eye was swollen shut, and what was he good for ? And those who were not sore with stings were sick with sweet surfeiting. If you want to keep posted as to the value of your insurance, subscribe for The Herald, published by Geo. J. Yeager, 202 La Salle St., Chicago, at $2.50 per annum, in advance. Send 25 cents for sample copy.