Journal of Proceedings. xlix
Lover." Even larvae and pupae are not safe, for three species of Fungi
named Torrubia entomorrhiza, T. militaris, and T. gracilis attack these
stages of a poor moth's life. The Chinese have a' species of Torrubia
(or Sphaeria) peculiar to their own country (S. chinensis) which grows on
large fat pupae. Not to be behind the Fungus in "botanical enterprise,"
the Chinese carefully collect the Fungi, together with the attached pupa?,
and, after tying them in neat bundles with silken threads, sell them in their
markets like small bundles of asparagus, as choice ingredients for celestial
soups and as stuffing for turkeys. As Funguses and turkeys' livers go to
make the delicious Strasbourg pie, it may reasonably be assumed that the
Chinese dish is one of the first order. This very incomplete list of insect,
caterpillar, and chrysalis-loving Fungi might be greatly extended,
particularly if a quantity of "friends from a distance" were included,
but I have mentioned a sufficient number to show how some of the
"lower orders" of Fungi eke out a precarious existence.
One British Fungus grows upon leather, but whether it is more
common at Northampton than elsewhere I have not yet heard. It does
not luxuriate in large curriers' shops, or in stylish boot and shoe
establishments, for the Fungus belongs to a low order. Most of the
members of its family luxuriate on dunghills, but this one sticks to
leather. I have once or twice seen it on the rotten cast-off shoes of
Epping Forest gipsies. A few years ago I accidently met a grave dignitary
of the Church hurrying to the Loughton railway station with a large
rotten boot depending from each hand and a bundle of putrid rags under
his arm. He had secured these treasures from a ditch side, and the boys
were making humourous remarks about the clergyman's luggage. It
was not necessary for me to ask my friend what he had got, for my
fungological eye detected a rich harvest of the rare Ascobolus saccharinus
(a sweet thing in Ascoboli) on both boots and rags. Fungologists should
always lovingly examine any old boots or rags, "ditch delivered of a
drab," that they may meet with in their sylvan rambles. Old rags, boots,
sacking, hampers, rotten matting, flannel, and carpeting are often
prolific with cohorts of the "lower orders" of Fungi. Epping Forest
was at one time rich in gipsies (properly called vagrants), but as these
people gradually get moved on by the active verderers, old boots, horse-
collars, and rags may get thinned out, and Ascobolus saccharinus may have
a bad time of it. Still, if new railways are made, taverns built, and
steam roundabouts, knock-'em-downs, and Aunt Sallies erected by
authority near every station, there will probably still be found plenty of
old shoes, dirty rags, basketwork, and rubbish for the Fungus to fix on.
On these little-esteemed objects the fungologist may find, if fortunate,
the delicate Coprinus domesticus, Macrosporium concinnum, Aspergillus
roseus, Raphalomyces pallidus, Onygena piligena, Ailographum maculare,
Thamnomyees hippotrichioides, and many other Fungi.
Old rope is often a treasure to a fungologist, therefore swings, such as
prevail at Chingford, should not be too much discouraged. I have
several times found Perisporium vulgare on pieces of decaying rope near
Loughton, but Nectria funicola has eluded me from paucity of old rope.
Everyone who has been Chingford way, especially after a bank holiday,
with its balloon ascent, crackers, and scratch-backs, must have
noticed the quantity of well-picked knuckle and shank bones thrown
about by excursionists, who out of wise economy bring their own
provisions. It is no good to look for Fungi on examples too fresh
from the holiday makers' teeth, but I once saw the rare Onygena
apus growing on an old weather-beaten Essex bone. If one is favoured
by fortune a dead horse or a dead donkey may still be lighted on in the
Forest, though I am bound to confess that these objects are less common
d