" TOADSTOOLS " 



THE warm, clinging nights that brought the mush- 

 room into being are for the most part done with. 

 Or they have retreated to the woods where they 

 bring up all manner of poisonous and suspect beauty 

 known by the comprehensive name of toadstools. 

 Every day presents us with some new decoration of 

 decayed stump, tall dead tree, or seemingly bare 

 bank where leaves are rotting under the soil. You 

 cannot walk far without being attracted by some 

 russula underfoot in the open alley- ways of the 

 wood, for the hues of the russula are almost as the 

 flowers of the field, ranging from nearly the blue 

 of chicory to the gloomy maroon of dusky crane's- 

 bill. 



On our heathery common where the birch trees 

 grow, the most brilliant of all our fungi scatter 

 themselves like ripe red tomatoes, each strewn with 

 white spots that serve to enhance the brilliance of 

 the scarlet. Nobody is likely to mistake the fly- 

 agaric for one of the many edible species that are 

 to be found among the mob of toadstools. Even 

 the slugs that batten on the russulas that no human 

 being may eat give these a wide berth. But if you 

 split them you will find now and then the galleries 

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