rules-and did not sprout a mushroom! Finally, he pitched the rich but recalcitrant soil out of his cellar and into his barnyard, to the accompaniment of remarks unfit for publication. What was his surprise to go out a few days later and behold his barnyard white with mushrooms! "Verily," he said, "the art of growing mushrooms passeth all understanding."

I recall a golden day in the San Francisco Bay region when, with an inquisitive friend, I toured a district where the mushroom is the object of quite general attention. We found instances of varying success. Just at the close of the day we came to a beautiful home, occupying a half-acre of ground, with three mushroom cellars at the rear of the lot. It was an inspiring sight that awaited us. The mushrooms fairly bubbled from the smooth, rounded beds, which covered the floors of the cellars, and the proud proprietor was in the act of making his second picking of the day. He admitted that he was in the enjoyment of a handsome income, and that he had found one of the most delightful occupations in the world.

Apparently there

It looked very simple and easy. was nothing about the construction of the houses that might not be readily duplicated. There were three of these houses, each 24x60 feet, and costing $600 each. The side walls were of concrete, and there were two roofs, the under one of board, and the top of lath allowing for the passage of air between. When we congratulated him on having found the primrose path to prosperity, he smiled grimly and said: "Yes, but for six long, weary years I was a failure in this business. I used all the money I had and all I could borrow,

and if I hadn't come through at last I should have been ruined. It looks easy now-and it is-but I suppose there are not many who would have succeeded at the cost of the struggle I have been through."

After explaining all the details of the business, he took us to a shed that served as his laboratory, where he had bottles filled with mushroom cultures. He then opened a cupboard and displayed a most interesting array of little bricks. "I will tell you gentlemen where the secret lies. It is all in the spawn," he said. This coincided with what we had heard from those who had used various kinds of spawn, some of it widely advertised as a sure thing, and much of it disappointing in results. Our host informed us that he made his own spawn, and when we examined it we could see a striking difference between this and the kind usually on sale. It was fairly alive. It required but the slightest imagination to feel the pulse-beat of life in these little bricks of smoky blue.

We asked how he did it, and he smiled, but shook his head. "That is my secret," he said. "It has taken me a long time to perfect my methods. Out of the first lot of 228 bricks I made, only two were good. Now, I get nearly 100 per cent of live bricks." When we inquired if he would sell them, he returned an emphatic negative, saying he could make more money by raising the mushrooms.

Leon Rouge, of Los Angeles, is one of the famous growers of Southern California. He was educated in the mushroom cellars of Paris and is one of the men who dispelled the superstition that mushrooms can not be made to flourish in the dry atmosphere of Cali

fornia. For several years he conducted the work in the cellar of his home, supplying the best hotels and clubs of Los Angeles at a uniform rate of $1 a pound. As the locality became more thickly settled there were some objections on the part of the neighbors to the existence of a flourishing mushroom plant in the midst of their homes. Although Mr. Rouge had incurred considerable expense in the preparation of his plant (one of the most perfect exhibits of its kind I have ever seen), he cheerfully changed the location of his industry. Where do you suppose he went? To a long tunnel-a deserted city water main in Elysian Park. Here he began his work anew, and at first in an experimental way. It turned out to be successful. He obtained a big crop of mushrooms which sold readily at high prices.

There are many other interesting experiences that might be quoted, but they all come to the same thing. Mushroom culture is a highly technical undertaking. It requires not only skill and experience but much patience and some little capital. A good mushroom cave of commercial proportions costs anywhere from $500 to $2,000. A successful grower is handsomely rewarded, for there is an eager, unsatisfied market for mushrooms almost everywhere, and the cultivated varieties usually sell at a high price. It is possible to raise them in a small way for home consumption without much expense, and we shall see something of methods advised by scientific growers, when we come to deal with the mechanics of the garden home; but the probability is that most of our home gardeners will depend on the wild crop that is abundant in many parts

of the country-(it is to be hoped they will be able to distinguish the true from the false), patronize some of the successful growers likely to be found in each garden city, or get along without this luxury, which may be classified among the non-essentials.

When I mentioned the subject to Luther Burbank, he threw up his hands and remarked: "Please don't mention mushrooms to me! In my younger days I was very fond of them, and ate so many that I entirely lost my taste for them. I will say, however, that of all the things in the vegetable kingdom the mushroom is the most finicky. I never thought it of sufficient importance in an economic way to justify me in wasting any time on it."

Nevertheless, mushrooms are good when properly cooked, and certainly add to the luxury of the family table. As has already been said, they can be raised; but there is no apparent prospect of overproduction.

CHAPTER XVII

H

THE LUXURIOUS TABLE IN REVIEW

ERE, then, are the materials of the luxurious table that is to be brought within the reach

of the home-in-a-garden folk, and to be generously spread for them and theirs throughout all the days of the future, whether prices be high or low, whether times be good or bad-in sunshine and in storm!

A comfortable sufficiency of all the vegetables that grow in the Temperate Zone-an infinite variety. Enough of these not only for consumption during the growing season, but for canning to supply the winter needs of the household.

A comfortable sufficiency of all the berries and small fruits that grow in the Temperate Zone-the products of garden bed and shrub and vine; and enough for jams, jellies and preserves throughout the year.

A comfortable sufficiency of all the tree fruits that grow in the Temperate Zone, with a surplus for pre

serves.

A comfortable sufficiency of eggs fresh from the nest. I repeat it fresh!

A comfortable sufficiency of the very nicest milk; with delicious home-made butter, and a variety of delectable cheeses.

A comfortable sufficiency of chicken-age authenticated (not cold-storage).