have been dreaming that I came to a
kingdom which, indeed, seemed to be an island, but on inspection
proved to be a mushroom. What interpretation have you when a man
dreams of mushrooms?"

"Why, this," said I, "that we passed some score of them in the meadow
below. I saw them plain by the moonlight, and kicked at them to make
sure."

"I did better," said Mr. Fett; I gathered a dozen or two in my cap,
foreseeing breakfast. Faith, and while you have been gadding I might
have had added a rasher of bacon. Did you meet any hogs on your way?
But no; they turned back and took the path that appears to run up to
the woods yonder."

"Hogs?" queried my father.

"They woke me, nosing and grunting among the nettles by the wall--
lean, brown beasts, with Homeric chines, and two or three of them
huge as the Boar of Calydon. I was minded to let off my gun at 'em,
but refrained upon two considerations--the first, that if they were
tame, to shoot them might compromise our welcome here, and perhaps
painfully, since the dimensions of the pigs appeared to argue
considerable physical strength in their masters; the second, that if
wild they might be savage enough to defend themselves when attacked."

"Doubtless," said my father, "they belong to some herdsman in the
forest above us, and have strayed down in search of acorns.
They cannot belong to this village."

"And why, pray?"

"Because it contains not a single inhabitant. Moreover, gentlemen,
while you were sleeping I have taken a pretty extensive stroll.
The vineyards lie unkempt, the vines themselves unthinned, up to the
edge of the forest. The olive-trees have not been tended, but have
shed their fruit for years with no man to gather. Many even have
cracked and fallen under the weight of their crops. But no trace of
beast, wild or tame, did I discover; no dung, no signs of trampling.
The valley is utterly desolate."

"It grows mushrooms," said Mr. Fett, cheerfully, piling a heap of dry
twigs; "and we have ship's butter and a frying-pan."

"Are you sure," asked Mr. Badcock, examining one, "that these are
true mushrooms?"

"They were grown in Corsica, and have not subscribed to the
Thirty-nine Articles; still, _mutatis mutandis_, in my belief they
are good mushrooms. If you doubt, we can easily make sure by stewing
them awhile in a saucepan and stirring them with a silver spoon, or
boiling them gently with Mr. Badcock's watch, as was advised by Mr.
Locke, author o