as
his grain harvest was over, he found in the slight labor attending the
management of these worms a source of interest and delight which was alone
worth the cost of his experiment. But he is successful besides; and his
wife expressed great delight at the new employment her husband had found,
which, as she said, had kept him close at home for about two months.
She remarked that all wives ought to favor the silk culture for their
husbands; but the old man added that some husbands might recommend it to
their wives.

Certainly I had no idea how slight and pleasant is the labor attending
this industry up to the point of getting cocoons. If, however, you mean to
raise eggs, the work is less pleasant.

This farmer, Mr. Alter, had chosen his field of operations with
considerable shrewdness. He planted his mulberry-trees on a dry side-hill,
and found that it did not hurt his worms to feed to them, under this
condition, even leaves from the little shrubs growing in his nursery rows.
His cocoonery was sheltered from rude winds by a hill and a wood, and thus
the temperature was very equal. He had no stove in his house, the shelves
were quite rough, and the whole management might have been called careless
if it were not successful.

I believe that the country about Clear Lake and in the Napa and Sonoma
valleys will be found very favorable to the culture of the silk-worm;
but I believe also that this industry will not succeed except where it is
carried on by farmers and their families in a small way.

[Illustration: MOUNT HOOD, OREGON.]

Boat life on Clear Lake is as delightful an experience as a traveler or
lounger can get anywhere. The lake is placid; there is usually breeze
enough to sail about; and you need not fear storms or rainy weather in the
dry season. If it should fall calm, and you do not wish to be delayed, you
can always hire an Indian to row the boat, and there is sufficient to
see on the lake to pleasantly detain a tourist several days, besides fine
fishing and hunting in the season, and lovely views all the time.

Going to the Sulphur Banks on a calm morning, I hired an Indian from a
rancheria upon Mr. Alter's farm to row for us, and my Indian proved to be
a prize. His name was Napoleon, and he was a philosopher. Like his greater
namesake, he had had two wives. Of the first one he reported that "Jim
catchee him," by which I was to understand that he had tired of her,
and had sold her to "Jim;" and he had now