The Life of the Fly 



curiosity which is the first awakening of ob- 

 servation. 



Soon, I find others, differing in size, shape 

 and colour. It is a real treat for my prentice 

 eyes. Some are fashioned like bells, like ex- 

 tinguishers, like cups; some are drawn out 

 into spindles, hollowed into funnels, rounded 

 into hemispheres. I come upon some that are 

 broken and are weeping milky tears; I step 

 on some that, instantly, become tinged with 

 blue; I see some big ones that are crumbling 

 into rot and swarming with worms. Others, 

 shaped like pears, are dry and open at the 

 top with a round hole, a sort of chimney 

 whence a whiff of smoke escapes when I prod 

 their under side with my finger. These are 

 the most curious. I fill my pockets with them 

 to make them smoke at my leisure, until I ex- 

 haust the contents, which are at last reduced 

 to a kind of tinder. 



What fun I had in that delightful spinney! 

 I returned to it many a time after my first 

 find; and here, in the company of the Crows, 

 I received my first lessons in mushroom-lore. 

 My harvests, I need hardly say, were not ad- 

 mitted to the house. The mushroom, or the 

 boitturel, as we called it, had a bad reputation 

 for poisoning people. That was enough to 



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