fungi. 275 



it the name of Stinkhorn, but I greatly prefer the more 

 euphonious one of Wood- witch. Od one occasion, when, 

 after a Ions; absence from Yorkshire, I returned to visit 

 the beautiful woods of Swaledale, my friend conducted 

 me, as of yore, to my favourite spots in the wild and 

 rocky thickets. Summer had just burst forth in its full 

 loveliness, the foliage was thick, the grasses shook forth 

 their flowering panicles, and I exclaimed that the lovely 

 nooks had become more beautiful than ever. But mv 

 host assured me there was now a sad drawback to the 

 charm of the near rocks, our favourite sylvan drawing- 

 room of olden days. He said some rabbits or larger 

 animals must have died in the underground caverns, for 

 the rocks were so heaped together as to form subterran- 

 ean grottos and passages, giving rise to a legend of a 

 secret way under ground all the way to Easby Abbey. 

 He said that these deceased animals gave forth a stench 

 so disgusting, that they were chased from their favourite 

 haunt, and the summer evenings could no more be spent 

 among the near rocks. Still, I wished at once to revisit 

 the familiar scene ; but as we approached the odour he 

 complained of became painfully perceptible. Another 

 turn in the path, and I beheld a group of Phallus, tall 

 and stately, like a group of marble obelisks, fretted with 

 elaborate carving and quaint devices. I laughed trium- 

 phantly, and hastened to assure my friend that the 

 deceased animals were no other than living Stinkhorns ; 

 and if he would make his gardener remove all such 

 interlopers from his plantations, the accustomed nooks 

 would be tempting as ever for evening lounges (Phallus 

 impudicus, Plate XIX., Jig 2). 



