wl flies close by the open gallery of the house, which we
call a balcony, and startles me with its ghostly scream.

The day comes again, fair and hopeful. I am waiting for the old
truffle-hunter, with whom I made an appointment for this morning.
Presently I see him coming up the bed of the stream, plodding over the
yellow stones, which have been dry for four months. I recognise him by
his pig, which walks by his side. They are both truffle-hunters, and
have both an interest in the business, as will be seen. The man is
gray and old, with a sharp prominent nose, suggestive of his chief
occupation, and with a bent back--the effect, perhaps, of stooping to
pull the pig's ear in the nick of time should the beast be tempted to
snap up one of the savoury cryptogams. When it is added that he wears
a short blouse and a low, broad-brimmed felt hat, I have described the
appearance of the truffle-hunter. Now, inasmuch as the pig is about to
play the most important part in the morning's work, its portrait
should likewise be drawn. The animal is of a dirty-white colour, like
all pigs in this part of France, and is utterly devoid of grace and
elegance. It is, in fact, an extremely ugly beast, with an arched back
and a very long turned-up nose; but it is four years old, and is
accounted 'serious.' Like all other pigs used for truffle-hunting, it
is of the female sex. The animal has been carefully educated; it wears
a leather collar as a mark of distinction, and is allowed the same
liberty as a dog.

We climb the rocky side of the gorge, which is hot work, for the south
wind is blowing, and the sun is blazing in a blue sky. The walnuts by
the line of the stream are changing colour, and the maples are already
fiery; but otherwise there are few signs of autumn. On reaching the
plateau we come at once to the truffle-ground. Here the soil is so
thin, so stony, and withal so arid, that, were it not for the scant
herbage upon which sheep and goats thrive, it would produce nothing
but stunted oak, juniper, and truffles. Even the oaks only grow in
patches where the rock is not close to the surface. The truffles are
never found except very near these trees, or, in default of them,
hazels. This is one of the mysteries of the cryptogamic kingdom, which
no one has yet been able to explain. The truffle-hunters believe that
it is the shade of the trees which produces the underground fruit, and
the opinion is based upon experience. When an oak has be