THE TRUFFLE=HUNTER.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XIV, Issue 842, 26 April 1906, Page 22

THE TRUFFLE=HUNTER.

His clothes were tattered and earthy, for the gathering of truffles is not a wealthy industry. On his left side hung a large cloth bag of many colours—a marvellous, bulging contrivance, stained generously with the brown sod, He bore a round spade; and at his heels trotted a small wiry dog of innumerable breeds. There was no care in the lines of his face —he looked fresh and grubby and most cheerful.

He tramped a patch of sodden fallow, vyhi&tling softly, till he came to a blackveined hedge-row. that rustled wth the movements of a troop of bullfinches. Alohg the line of the hedge he walked, peering at the watery turf with half-clos-ed eyes, and read the inwardness of the ground by signs that are a sealed book to the layman. The black truffles nestle in bunches deep in the reeking earth—who knows where they lie? But the seeker never missed them. He halted at a little hollow, staring intently at the ground, asd whistled a few more bars meditatively. The dog, sober-eyed and with the air of one superior to emotion, pushed his nose into the wet earth, snorted approvingly and began to dig. Thereupon he was called away, and sat on his haunches with a contented expression, to watch the disinterment he had witnessed so many scores of times. ,

The round spade was driven to its haft in the turf, and, always leisurely, always whistling, the truffle-hunter turned up the soil. Deeper he went, the wet clay smacking its lips as the spade levered it up. and the clean smell that hangs to the under-mould stole abroad. The dog sniffed inquiringly, a cold drizzle began to cloud the sorrowing meadows with mist, and the truffle-hunter dropped to his knees. One by one he drew five small dark lumps from the sticky pit: warty, irregular objects like blackened potatoes. He whistled a bar or so over each, polishing it gently with a tuft of moss, and stowed it lovingly in the big cloth bag of many patches. Placidly he rose, cleaned the soil from his knees, and carefully he filled up the pit again, replanting the slice of turf upon the top, and all was peace and smoothness where the ground had been rent up. It is this care and decency of the truffle-hunter that is his passport. He does no harm, wherefore the farmer had no disfavour for him. He can be trusted, and the keepers will tolerate him, knowing that his dog will never run riot in the covers, and that poachers are disliked by the hunters of truffles. Very seldom is this strange vagabond a fiequenter of pothouses, and his life in the brown woodlands is too clean for dishonesty.

He lives among the woodland birds and beasts as one of themselves, thinking with them and knowing them far better than he knows man. Sunshine or rain, he plies his trade alike, only voyaging into market towns from time to time to sell his spoils. These are always bought eagerly, the agent taking an extremely large portion of the profits, however. From 16s to 30s a week is the income of the truffle-hunter, according to good or illfortune or the prosperity of the times. Best for his calling are the quiet, rainy days of late autumn, when a southerly wind chases away the snow-mists, and the leafless woods drip brown tears. He finds his hidden treasures more easily then, and the dog’s nose never fails at the test. What the signs are, or how the forlorn mongrel can scent the black roots where they lie, is a matter beyond all but the odd wanderer himself, and his tribe. He will not lay his knowledge bare for any Philistine.

Bad times overtake him when black frosts bind the earth, and no spade can cut the crust of the soil. His fruitful hedgerows on the hillside are barren then, and he betakes himself to the foggy fens ip the lap of the valley. There, on the south sides"of the stunted marsh thickets, he can still find earth that is not too hard to open, but a six days’ frost reduces him to sore straits. Moreover, the fenland truffles are not so good or so plentiful as those of the sloping hillsides. His dog is his second self, and without that aid he would be badly handicapped. Yet some truffle-hunters do not own dogs, though the most thorough and successful always do. That good-tempered but illfavoured mongrel doubles his master’s earnings, and a perfect and very deep understanding reigns between the two. The loss of the dog would mean four weary years of training for some raw puppy, chosen from among those whose heritage is the water-butt in small towns where curs are plentiful and multiply undesirably. The new apprentice is chosen by the skill of an eye that knows precisely what build and temper of dog-flesh is most mouldable to the strange trade of truffle-seeking. Such a dog, thoroughly trained is worth four months of ordinary

work to the owner, but such beasts cannot be bought—they have to be made. Moreover, not one puppy in twenty will make a possible truffle-dog.

tsj.,- w; iic? and summer, the truffler keeps his knowledge alive, and he himself becomes almost a machine, a living pointer who alone of all men can find the cherished dainties. Vastly do his fortunes fluctuate, according to wind and weather. At times he flourishes prodigiously and then a short period of desire for the common needs of men possess him. He dines sumptuously at inns, like any farm bailiff, drawing to himself the fat of the land, and sleeping between sheets of white linen. A sober jollity is his —he meditates in solitude in the lonely parlour after dinner, for he is ever tongue-tied, and cannot convey his thoughts freely to his kind. Should he meet a brother of the craft, the talk flows freely, always anent the ways of the outer world, for to

confreres he never talks shop. Such meetings are rare, for one truffler has generally 30 square miles or so of land for his particular hunting-ground, moving on only when the district has been well quartered. The truffles always accumulate again. A twelvemonth later, after beating a new district, perhaps 50 miles away, the truffler comes back to his old ground. On migration, trufflers move with the sun, voyaging round England in a circular direction. There may be about 500 of them in the three kingdoms,

all of the guild. Those prosperous periods seldom last long, and even before they are over the truffle-hunter goes back to his old life. The meals beneath a roof cease. Times are bad, and the truffler lives on strange stews of roots and chestnuts and herbs for weeks together, and sleeps under the sky. This is when money is not to be had, and the truffler can live on absolutely nothing if necessary. He never starves, never knows actual want: for no gipsy can equal him for finding good sustenance in the open woodlands. And never, never does he beg. In hardest weather he can find some vegetable food on which somehow he seems to thrive. At night he never sleeps in the wet, but can always discover some nook in the thick woods, or the quarries on chalk-pits, where he may sleep soundly and drily. He is without question the strangest puzzle of mankind in this country, and all but unknown to the majority.

In the rare times when truffles are not he will condescend to work at hedging or ditching, and is a swift and skilled workman. He has a dignity of his own, and his employer always feels that his temporary delver, erstwhile so completely independent, is superior to the common kind. And so, from year to year, the truffle-hunter plies his calling : a nomad, simple and taciturn, and careless as any leveret that browses in the nodding clover behind the oatfield. —“The Globe.”

Two Irishmen were digging a hole for drainage purposes. One was a tall man, over 6ft in height, and the other was a little man, not much above the five-foot mark.

The foreman came along presently to see how the .work was progressing, and noticed that one of them was doing more work than the other. So he called down to the big fellow: “ Look here, Pat, how is it that little Mickey Dugan, who is only about half as big as you, is doing twice as much work?”

Glancing down at the diminutive Mickey, Pat replied: “And why shouldn’t he? Sure, isn’t he the nearer to it?”

LETTERS FROM PEOPLE CURED OF RHEUMATISM, GOUT, LUMBAGO AND SCIATICA.

From Miss Emily Woodhouse, 109 Wil-liam-street, Sydney, N.S.W., j’th April, 1904. “I had suffered from rheumatism and sciatica for several years, and had tried many remedies, also a trip to the Hot Lakes of New Zealand. The latter gave me temporary relief, but after settling down in Sydney the old complaint recurred, so I gave Warner’s Safe Cure a trial for some time,- and can now confidently state that I have not had the slightest sign of the painful trouble from which I suffered so long. I am pleased to state this for the benefit of others who may suffer as I did.” From Mr. F. L. Seager, Waratah-street, Darlinghurst, N.S.W., 17th February, 1904. “About six years ago I had an attack of lumbago, so severe that I could not walk for nine weeks. I tried many medicines porous plasters and electric batteries, without material relief. My doctor could do nothing for me. Hearing so much about Warner’s Safe Cure I decided to try it. After taking the first bottle I felt greatly relieved, and started to walk again and after taking eight bottles I was completely cured. I have not suffered in any way since, and strongly recommend Warner’s Safe Cure to anyone afflicted with a similar complaint. I consider the medicine invaluable.” From Mr. John Spencer, 371 Parramattaroad, Leichhardt, N.S.W., 6th February, 1904. “Some eight years ago I commenced to suffer from rheumatism and indigestion, and up to about two years ago obtained no relief from doctors nor any medicine taken. Having read a pamphlet containing many testimonials of cures by Warner’s Safe Cure, I decided to try that medicine myself, and after taking five or six bottles, and following the directions given, I was a new man. I have not suffered in any form since.”

From Mr. William Pollock McAuslan, 10 Russell-place, North Williamstown, Victoria. “Some eight years ago I was laid up with a very persistent attack of rheumatism, and although I was under the care of a leading medical man, at the end of four or five months, instead of getting

better, I was growing gradually worse, and in the doctor’s own words ‘would never make any permanent improvement. ’ Fearing that his words might come true, I refused to take his medicine any longer, and, as a last hope, gave Warner’s Safe Cure and Warner’s Safe Rheumatic Cure ■ a trial. From the taking oF the first dose I could see hope ahead, and in a very little while all pain had left me, and I never had the slightest sign of any relapse until my complete recovery some seven weeks later. The doctor’s words, thanks to Warner’s medicines, have not been verified, as from that day, eight years ago, to this, I have not had the slightest symptom of that dreadful complaint.” From Mr. George Wedlock (The Sandhurst Samson), Milburn’s Coffee Palace, Bendigi, Vic., 4th September, «< I9 ° 3 ’ “About two years ago I was prostrated with sciatica, and suffered excruciating pain in my legs, more especially in my knee joints. I have always been a strong, active man, and did not like the idea of having to lay up, as I was advised by a physician, so I tried various advertised remedies, but with no real benefit. At this time Warner’s Safe Cure was brought under my notice and I began to take it.

1 took two bottles of the Safe Cure and a vial of Warner’s Safe Pills, when all pain in my legs left me, and I was able to get about as actively as ever. I am well known, having exhibited my great power and strength to numerous audiences throughout the Australian States.” From Mrs. Nellie Davidson, 32 Keig-street, Newtown, 16th February, 1903. “When living in Boggabri, about 18 months ago, I was laid up for nearly the whole winter with rheumatism, and could not obtain any relief from any of the several medicines I took. One day I saw a pamphlet, issued by you, in which was described a case similar to my own, and I decided to try whether Warner’s Safe Cure would also benefit me. I took three bottles of the medicine, and am very glad to say that I was completely cured, and could go about my work cheerfully. I have not felt the slightest symptom of the return of any rheumatic pain since that time.”

Brom Mrs. S. A. Slater, 651 Harris-street, Ultimo, Sydney, N.S.W. “About eight years ago I was a great sufferer from rheumatism, often having to take to my bed for three or four weeks at a time. I tried all kinds of medicines without getting any better, and at last gave up all hope of ever getting well. Several of my friends recommended me to take Warner’s Safe Cure, but I was so sick and tired of taking different medicines that for some time J refused to fol lew the advice. I gave in at length, and now I am glad to say that I am entirely free from my old complaint, and have not had a touch of it for about seven years, thanks to Warner’s Safe Cure.”

From Mr. Albert E. Long, Port Pirie, S.A., 9th January, 1903. “I am pleased to report that I have taken five bottles of Whrner’s Safe Cure for rheumatism, and that the result was marvellous. The pain has all left me. I have gained a stone in weight, and am now in good health.”

From Mr. R. A. Thompson, Mining Engineer, 148 Adelaide Terrace, Perth, W.A.. 22st July, 1902.

“When writing you some time back as to the efficacy of Warner’s Safe Pills in biliousness, I mentioned being about to try a course of Warner’s Safe Cure for gout. The result of taking the medicine was simply wonderful, as many people in Perth can testify, and I speak gratefully of the benefit I received. The action of

the medicine was this: First, a gradual toning up of the stomach, then better appetite, purer blood-malnng, and slow (at first) but sure disappearance of the

gout. The food taken during the course was plain but wholesome. lam glad also to tell you that many of my acquaintances have derived great benefit from the Safe Pills and the Safe Cure.