Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1903-08-28

population of Paris could hide itself
beneath the city.
| To build the city we know so well
to-day past generations delyed aud dug
beneath ii for The coveted stone. What
then were quarries have now become
caves, portions of which have been
converted into catacombs ana contain
the bones of the dead, while others are
used for the very mundane purpose of
growing mushrooms. The mushroom
i is a comestible particularly favored
/ by the French Wagon loads from
near and far find their way into the
central markets of the city every day
in the year and the annual consump-
tion by the Parsians of this vegetable
represent value of over $3.50, 600.
Both beneath the city itself and out
side it, these strange mushroom caves
extend for miles in all directions; ana
In them hundreds of men. who often
never see daylight from morn till eve,
pass their lives In cultvating the
mushroom.
Il was told that | should find these
under bouleyards" of the great city
well worthy of visit, and | accepted
the offer of an influential friend 10 OBJ
tain permission for myself and a photo
grapher to descend into the bowels of
the earth and learn something of the
art of underground mushroom grow
ing. We departed one fine morning,
the photographer and l, for Malakoff,
ON the outskirts of Paris. We found
the mushroom farmer on his farm
awaiting us--a well-built, bluff, hearty
specimen Of French "feTmier." NJ.
Burvlngt by name. | looked around
for signs Of caves, but failed to find
them, nor did l see any hills In the
neighborhood under which they might
be. In answer to a question | was in
formed that they We're just 10 metres
under our feet.
This shaft leads right into them,
said the farmer, indicating covered
circular hole in the ground | had not
hitherto noticed. He pulled the boards
away, and | looked down, shuddering.
for | looked only into fathomless dark
ness. How we Were to get down puz-
zled me; how the Photographic appara-
tus was going to fare worried the pho
tographer, and we were both immense
ly relieved to learn that this shaft was
not the entrance. but only the place
where they pitched the manure down.
still had hopes of gaining entrance
other than by descending shaft-a
gentle slope or something of that sort
was what l wanted-and l felt con
WINGED that this would be the case
when our guide said We had rather a
long walk before us. 1t proved a 90 Il
three-quarters of an hours journey,
over fields aud down country lanes,
ere he stopped suddenly before a small
square fence and told us we had reach
ed our destination. And we had been
following the line of one of the under
ground passages all the time.
Opening a gate. the farmer revealed
a shaft; my hopes were scattered to
the winds l had never done any lad
der-clmblng, and l really did not fancy
Che feat Of ''monkeying' down pole
the ruugs of which were just short iron
bars inserted. none too near one an
other, on either side, ana which sway
ed TO and fro like hough In the wind.
81 can't see the bottom, said the
photographer, somewhat ruefully.
For my part that did not matter so
much. | was only anxious not to feel
1t too suddenly, for there was nothing
to break drop of 40 feet unless hit
ting against the sides as one fell might
be regarded as breaking II The first
difficulty was to get the Photographic
apparatus below. Camerastand, and
fash lamps were packed into a basket,
which was hooked on TO rope. and
away 1t sped, but quick as the rope
went through the hands of the cham
pignonnlste' the camera stand was