A Tale of Woe
Mushroom S Ends In Failure
By E. M. CARSON ,
rXTITHEN I announced to a gathering of I VV friends that I was leaving for a holiday on Waiheke Island I was met by the usual platitudes m which 1 caught the words: "Have a nice holi-day-pleasant time—come back bet-, tor—you will find mushrooms— sheep country—the season, you know—must be plentiful." . I thought no more about it until a week after my arrival when the w ord mushroom popped up again, n grass at my feet snuggled three or four pink button ones. 1 rue, they were only the size of ipyjama buttons, but still they were mushrooms. Ihe happy thought was born there and then, go mushrooming 1 . - All that d%y my ambitions soared and I hunted for suitable receptacles in' which to post some to my fnends and I-thrilled when I thought of the pleasant surprise I could give them. At 5.30 o'clock the next mormpg I was struggling with sleep and trying to assure myself that the effort was worth while. A cup of tea revived my flagging interest and a glorious fresh dewy morning awoke my kindest feelings toward absent friends. By the time I had reached the top of the first hill I had found about six of the elusive delicacies. . Looking dowr. a deep gully I BaW what I was sure was a marvellous patch near the bottom, but rather up on the other side. On the way down I found a few more and placed them in the yet almost empty basket, buddenly I stepped on some rubble, away went my feet,'and.l found myself glissading swiftly down the side ot the gully, quite without any will or volition on my part. On the way I lost hold of the basket, the mushroomu scattered wildly and the basket arrived at the foot of the gully before me. ' „ „ ' , Bruised and shaken I found myself sitting beside the. supposed patch of mushrooms, to find it was a heap of bleached bones.''Sad and disillusioned, I retrieved the empty basket. I had no stockings on. so a blister formed on one heel, then on the other. I was forced to remove my shoes. Here and there I found a few mushrooms, but try tig I might to resist investigating any white object, I could not and still pursued my task. In some oases it was a bank of old shells, or a broken insulator from a telegraph post, and
once it was a surveyor's peg, but never a mushroom! Tired and disheartened I began to 'take more interest in finding easy paths to climb the hill than, in what I came out to find in the«first place. jßo.unding a corner I met three children each carrying a billy of mushrooms. For one awful moment I was seized with a fierce temptation to snatch, those mushrooms and run. It all seemed so unfair. Here was I with two blistered heels, an almost empty basket, and tired out. There were those children swinging the full billies in a most unconcerned manner. The training of a lifetime stood me in good stead and, resisting temptation, I offered to buy their mushrooms if they would come home with me. They just looked me over, however, with silent suspicion. I reached home trying to look as though I had just been for a most enjoyable stroll and nonchalantly placed the few mushrooms on a plate, just as though I had happened on them. For the future I will buy my mushrooms in a shop and my friends can do the same.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23009, 9 April 1938, Page 6 (Supplement)
Word Count
601A Tale of Woe New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23009, 9 April 1938, Page 6 (Supplement)
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