sown or planted side by side, in order to produce
the best effect of colour by their simultaneous
blossom? How may we keep the bit of ground
as neat and bright as possible all the year round,
although we have no gardeners belonging to our
own establishments, and wish to pay as little as
we can for occasional day labour? To all these
questions, the town populations of Great Britain
pause for a reply. A mere gardener may be
unable to give the much-desired information.
The skilled knowledge of the ordinary gardener
has to be joined with the counsels of a man of
taste, and these must have solely in view back-
yards, the little plots in front of houses, and the
enclosed strips behind. The gardening monitor
must not reckon the smallest house that has a
patch to it, unworthy of distinct attention, and
he should ascend into no region sublimer than
the strip of ground attached to the best rows of
suburban houses, whether as fore-courts or
back-yards

POISONOUS MUSHROOMS.

GERARDE'S quaint counsel in regard to mushrooms
is as follows: "I give my advice to those
that love such strange and new fangled meats, to
beware of licking honey among thorns, lest the
sweetness of the one do not countervaille the
sharpness and pricking of the other."  But this
advice is equally just in regard to many other
members of the vegetal world.  Have we not
picked potatoes for our table from the family of
the deadly nightshades (Solana)? Do we not
carefully distinguish the garden parsley from the
fool's parsley? Do we not pickle gherkins
notwithstanding their affinity to the squirting cucumber
(Elaterium), which poisons those who eat it?
And do we not use horseradish in spite of the
fatal accidents occurring every now and then
from mistaking monkshood for it? Instead,
therefore, of being appalled by idle rumours of
the difficulty or impracticability of the
undertaking, we ought to apply ourselves to the task
of discriminating accurately between the  wholesome
and poisonous gifts of Nature.  It would
then be found that the Creator, having given
to brutes an instinct by which to select their
aliment, has given to man, for the same purpose,
a discriminative power of far greater certitude.

The first thing to know about funguses, says
Dr. Badham is, that in the immense majority of
cases they are harmless; the innoxious and
esculent kinds are the rule; the poisonous kinds
the exceptions to it.

The senses of taste and smell are the best
guides to be relied upon in selecting mushrooms,
Those having a strong, disagreeable, or sickly
odour, are certainly unwholesome. Mushrooms
which are bitter or styptic, or that burn the mouth
on mastication, or parch the throat when they have
been swallowed, should be put aside.  Dr. Badham
adds: "those which yield spiced milk, of whatever
colour, should be held, notwithstanding exceptions,
in suspicion; as an unsafe dairy to deal
with."  Mushrooms of a rose or orange-red
colour, and those growing beside water, or on thickly
shaded spots, and in damp, darkened places, to
which the air has little access, are always more
or less poisonous.  Some trees give origin to
good, and others to bad parasites; thus the hazel
nut, the black, and perhaps the white poplar,
and the fig tree, grow only good sorts of
mushrooms; whereas the olive has been famous,
since the days of Nicander, for none but
poisonous kinds:

The rank in smell, and those of livid show,
All that at roots of Oak or Olive grow,
Touch not!  But those upon the Fig-tree's rind
Securely pluck,—a safe and savoury kind.

It is not however safe to trust implicitly to
the particular tree to determine the wholesomeness
or unwholesomeness of the fungus growing
out of it, or in its neighbourhood; as the elm,
the elder, the larch, the beech, and many other
trees, seem capable of supporting both good and
bad mushrooms at their roots.

A thing to be borne in mind is, that the
idiosyncracies of some persons are opposed to a
diet composed of mushrooms, as others are to
shell-fish, melons, or cucumbers. Then, again,
though funguses are not to be considered
unwholesome, they are, like other good things, to
be eaten with moderation.  Monsieur Roques,
who has written an excellent treatise on
mushrooms, says, "If you live an indolent life, are a
Sybarite in your heart, or should any violent
passions (anger, jealousy, or revenge) be dealing
with you, take care how in such a case you eat
ragoûts of truffles or of mushrooms; but if, on
the contrary, your health be good, your life
temperately prudent, your temper, even, and your
mind serene, then (provided you like them) you
may eat of these luxuries without the slightest
apprehension of their disagreeing with you."
People have fancied themselves poisoned when
they are not; indigestion produced by mushrooms
is looked upon with fear and suspicion, and, if a
medical man be called in, the stomach pump used,
and relief obtained, nothing will persuade either
patient or practioner that this has not been a
case of poisoning. "You have saved my life,"
says the one. "I think you will not be
persuaded to eat any more mushrooms for some
time," says the other; and so they part, each
under the impression that he knows more about
mushrooms than anybody else can tell him. Yet,
these drawbacks notwithstanding, funguses,
which have been the daily bread of nations, the
poor man's manna for many centuries, cannot
be an unwholesome, much less a dangerous,
food.

The most virulent of our native toadstools is
the Fly Mushroom (Amanita muscaria), a large
and beautiful plant, with a tall, pillar-like stalk,
and an umbrella, or hat, measuring from three
to six inches across. It grows in pastures, and
may be recognised by its bright red or orange
colour, varied by small white or yellowish dots.
Although a powerful poison, in Kamtschatka it
is used in various ways to produce intoxication.

A brownish orange fungus, the Half Rounded