tterflies, too, and moths of every size and pattern; some broad-winged
like bats, flapping slowly, and sailing in easy curves; others like
small, flying violets, shaking about loosely in short, crooked flights
close to the flowers, feasting luxuriously night and day. Great numbers
of deer also delight to dwell in the brushy portions of the
bee-pastures.

Bears, too, roam the sweet wilderness, their blunt, shaggy forms
harmonizing well with the trees and tangled bushes, and with the bees,
also, notwithstanding the disparity in size. They are fond of all good
things, and enjoy them to the utmost, with but little troublesome
discrimination--flowers and leaves as well as berries, and the bees
themselves as well as their honey. Though the California bears have as
yet had but little experience with honeybees, they often succeed in
reaching their bountiful stores, and it seems doubtful whether bees
themselves enjoy honey with so great a relish. By means of their
powerful teeth and claws they can gnaw and tear open almost any hive
conveniently accessible. Most honey-bees, however, in search of a home
are wise enough to make choice of a hollow in a living tree, a
considerable distance above the ground, when such places are to be had;
then they are pretty secure, for though the smaller black and brown
bears climb well, they are unable to break into strong hives while
compelled to exert themselves to keep from falling, and at the same time
to endure the stings of the fighting bees without having their paws free
to rub them off. But woe to the black bumblebees discovered in their
mossy nests in the ground! With a few strokes of their huge paws the
bears uncover the entire establishment, and, before time is given for a
general buzz, bees old and young, larvae, honey, stings, nest, and all
are taken in one ravishing mouthful.

Not the least influential of the agents concerned in the superior
sweetness of the Shasta flora are its storms--storms I mean that are
strictly local, bred and born on the mountain. The magical rapidity with
which they are grown on the mountain-top, and bestow their charity in
rain and snow, never fails to astonish the inexperienced lowlander.
Often in calm, glowing days, while the bees are still on the wing, a
storm-cloud may be seen far above in the pure ether, swelling its pearl
bosses, and growing silently, like a plant. Presently a clear, ringing
discharge of thunder is heard, followed by a rush of wind t