5o 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Jan. 28 
pressed, but we changed it, and made it level with the 
surface like the others.” 
Rhubarb in Winter. 
“ Here is some rhubarb which I am trying, back 
under this bench, as it will do just as well in the dark.” 
“ Do you find it profitable ? ” 
“ I haven’t sold enough yet to determine. I sold one 
small lot, and have just shipped another this morning.” 
“ What is your plan of growing ? ” 
“We lift the roots in the fall, put them in with some 
earth, cut the stalks through the winter, and pitch 
the roots out in spring. I have still more in the mush¬ 
room cellar.” 
The greenhouses are all of the span roof pattern, 
solidly built of the best materials, by professional 
greenhouse builders, and are heated by hot water 
pipes. Water is supplied by an immense windmill 
and tank located at the end of the range of houses. 
Mushrooms in the Dark. 
“ Now we’ll look at the mushroom cellar,” said Mr. 
Griffin ; and taking a couple of lanterns, we wended 
our way to the rear of the barn which stands on a 
slope, and entered what is probably the largest plant 
of the kind in this part of the country. As the double 
doors swung open, the warm, moist air rushed out, 
and the steam nearly hid from view the murky interior. 
“This was all solid earth last year,” said Mr. Grif¬ 
fin. “These are good, solid, 18-inch walls, and I dug 
out the earth to make this cellar. There was no ex¬ 
pense for building, as the roof and walls were all here, 
only needing to be fitted up. Overhead it is 
pitched the same as a boat to prevent any 
moisture from going through into the barn. 
Many of these beds are, as you see, two deep. 
One is made on the floor, and the other on a 
shelf overhead.” 
“ How do you make them ? ” 
“We throw the horse manure in a heap, 
and work it over two or three times, then 
make it either into a flat bed, or a ridge well 
packed down. The spawn, which must be 
fresh, is then planted, and the beds are 
covered with about an inch of soil.” 
“ How much heat do mushrooms require ? ” 
“ They are all right if they are kept above 
the freezing point, but do not need to go 
above 60 degrees F. I build a fire in the 
furnace once a day, and then let it go out.” 
“Do you have to cover the beds with 
straw ? ” 
“ No, but I did that to keep them from dry¬ 
ing out, and thus save water.” 
“You must use an immense amount of 
manure.” 
“ Yes, we use about three car-loads of city 
manure, besides what we make. But this 
manure is just as good, if not better, for use 
on the fields the next summer.” 
“ How often do you water the beds ? ” 
“Just enough to keep them from drying 
out. You see all we have to do is to turn on 
the hose.” 
“ What is the usual yield of a bed ? ” 
“Ten pounds to the square yard for the season is 
pretty good. I am making up some beds here for the 
new variety mentioned in The R. N.-Y. recently.” 
“ Do you consider it better ? ” 
“No, but it will stand in hot weather, and thus ex¬ 
tend the season.” 
“ What prices do you usually get ?” 
“ They vary ; I got returns this morning from a lot 
that sold for 65 cents per pound, but that is the lowest 
I have ever received. There was a large supply, how¬ 
ever. I never ship any but the best. If a mushroom 
gets too old, I throw it away.” 
As we emerged fi’om this dark, damp, steaming, 
cellar, into the frosty air, I wondered what some of 
our extensive grain farmers would say to see right 
under one barn, an industry carried on, independent 
of weather or season, which will turn out more money 
than their whole farms. It is a curious business. 
Several more matters, of which I wished to speak, 
must go over until a future article. 
Figs. 15 and 16, reproduced from American Garden¬ 
ing, represent the size and manner of growth of the 
Barbarossa grape referred to above. Its clusters are 
truly immense, not quite equal to the size of the 
grapes of Eschol referred to in Holy Writ, which 
required two men to carry one, but larger than most 
of us are accustomed to see. Cases have occurred 
where $7 or $8 per pound have been offered for a few 
choice ones late in the season, for a special occasion. 
This price multiplied by the number of pounds in a 
cluster gives some idea of the value sometimes attained 
by these fancy products. f. h. v. 
One cent will carry this paper to your friend in any 
part of North America after you have written your 
name on the corner to show whom it is from. 
INTERVIEWING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 
ONE ROAD TO SUCCESS. 
While wandering about the earth some moons ago, I 
noticed in the locality where I happened to be so¬ 
journing for a brief period a farm that appeared to be 
under the command of an expert. The buildings, 
fences, stock, and, in fact, the whole outfit betokened 
a master mind and an executive hustler in control. 
No v, thought I, here is a man who is no common 
corn-field canary. I’ll warrant him a hummer, and 
that he knows a thing or two about the management 
of a farm that somebody else ought to know, so I’ll 
interview him and sound the depths and resources of 
his intellect. 
As I was passing the farm one day, I observed my 
man racking up a pile of rails, and, though it was then 
nearly noon, I decided to call on him and, if everything 
was lovely, to make a full investigation of his 
methods, etc. With this end in view I assumed an 
enterprising air and a winning smile and entered the 
yard. Approaching within 10 feet of him, I saluted 
him with a pleasant “ Good morning, sir.” He barely 
glanced at me, but said nothing, and continued to 
rack up rails. 
“You have a nice lot of rails here, sir,” I continued. 
“May I ask what you have to pay for such rails as 
these ? ” 
“ Money ! ” he replied, after a brief interval of 
silence. 
“ I suppose so,” said I cheerfully. “You have a 
very nice farm here, the best kept one on this road, I 
believe. It does one good to see a well managed farm 
occasionally. You have some excellent buildings, 
and they seem to be very conveniently placed, and I 
notice that your fences are all in good repair, and 
that’s something one doesn’t see very often. Have you 
lived on this farm many years?” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Have you lived here very long ? ” 
After about 30 seconds of intense silence, during 
which he ceased not to rack rails, he jerked out : 
“ What yer sellin’?” 
“ Nothing. Had no idea you took me for a peddler. 
I’m seeking information, sir. I noticed that you have 
an extra nice farm, and naturally I decided that you 
must be a skillful farmer, so I dropped in to have a 
chat with you and get a few pointers. I see you have 
some very fine shoats over there in the pasture. Do 
you raise many hogs ?” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Do you raise hogs very extensively?” 
“ Where do you live ? ” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Where ye from ? ” 
“Just from home, sir. I’m looking over the coun¬ 
try and picking up information for the benefit of my¬ 
self and the readers of The Rural New-Yorker, an 
agricultural jour—” 
“ Don’t want it !” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Don’t want yer paper !” 
“ Don’t want you to have it, sir. Want it myself. 
Couldn't keep house without it! I consider it indis¬ 
pensable to- 
“ Sir?” 
“ The Rural New-Yorker is the best and most 
practical agricultural journal published in the United 
States to-day, sir, and every live, enterprising-” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Every farmer that’s up to snuff takes it and keeps 
up with the times: I’m only one of a hundred 
who-” 
“ Sir ?” 
“ Who are hunting the country over for live farmers 
who can tell us something about agriculture, horti¬ 
culture and stock raising that’s worth knowing. I 
saw you had a very neat-looking farm here and I 
came in to see if you can tell the readers of The Rural 
anything that will help them to farm better, and to 
make-” 
“ Now look alive, mister. I’ll tell ye right now that 
I don’t want yer paper, an’ ye may jest as well shet up 
an’ move on !” 
He had ceased racking rails, and now stood before 
me in a belligerent attitude, and his countenance in¬ 
dicated war. I stepped aside a few feet and sat down 
on a block. Then calmly looking up at him, I said-- 
“ Now, see here, my friend. I came in here on busi¬ 
ness. I don’t want to sell you a blessed thing. 1 just 
want to-” 
“ Thar's the gate ye come in at !” 
“ And a very good one it is too : and well hung. I 
came in to talk to you about your farm and-” 
“ It’s not for sale, so ye can save yourself the 
trouble !” 
“ I don’t want to buy it. I want to ask you how 
you manage it. What crops or kind of stock you find 
most profitable, and-” 
“ I know well enough what yer drivin’ at- 
Ye think ye’ll make a meal off'n me. But I’ll 
tell ye ye’ll get left this time !” 
“ Bless your soul, sir, I always pay for my 
meals—hotel rates, too. I’m not allowed to 
beg, borrow or steal a meal from anybody, or 
under any circumstances. I certainly would 
like to take dinner with you, and I’ll cheer¬ 
fully pay whatever you charge—25 cents or a 
dollar !” 
He said nothing more. A young man had 
come in from the field, put up his team and 
now joined us. 
“ You are this gentleman’s son, are you 
not ?” I asked. 
“ Yes, sir.” 
“ I see you have some very fine hogs in the 
pasture there. Will you go with me to look 
them over a little ? ” 
“ Certainly, sir.” 
We climbed on the fence and he called them 
up and we chatted about them quite pleasant¬ 
ly, and I told him what I was doing. Finally 
I said, “ Your father took me for an agent of 
some sort, and talked quite roughly to me at 
first, but I guess he’s all right now.” 
The young man laughed at this. “ Pa is a 
little oldfogyish, and he detests peddlers,” 
said he, “ and sometimes he hustles them off 
the place in a hurry. He doesn't like strang¬ 
ers anyway.” 
I asked him if I could get dinner, and he 
said he would see. We walked to the house 
and he stepped inside. In a few moments he came out 
and told me I could. He then took charge of me, and 
in a short time we were seated at the table. 
The family consisted of four persons, the old gentle¬ 
man, his wife, the son, and a daughter about 12 years 
of age. Neither of the old people addressed a word to 
me during the meal, but the two young folks were 
quite talkative, and we chatted right along. 
The son had attended high school in town two 
years, after leaving the district ‘school, and had fin¬ 
ished off with a six months’ course at a business col¬ 
lege. The daughter had attended the district school 
six terms, and the high school in town one. The old 
folks had attended the district schools, such as they 
were in their young days, six and eight months respec¬ 
tively, and, though they could read fairly well, writing 
was a laborious task. 
The difference between the parents and their 
children was so vast that one could scarcely imagine 
they were akin. The old people were narrow, preju¬ 
diced and peculiar, while the young were bright, lib¬ 
eral and sociable. They had read, studied, and mixed 
with other people sufficiently to have their minds en¬ 
lightened and their ideas broadened, and this, coupled 
with native common sense, made them really pleasant, 
intelligent young people. But for the public school— 
that greatest of all civilizers—what would they have 
been, raised in such an atmosphere ? 
As soon as the meal, which was a very good one, was 
over, I asked the old lady what my bill was, and she 
said 25 cents. I paid it, thanked her for the accom¬ 
modation, and then sat down to interview the young 
man. But, as he was obliged to start almost immedi¬ 
ately to help a neighbor at thrashing, our talk was 
very brief. 
