I proceeded promptly to make a collection of the luscious edibles as soon as they were sufficiently matured and abundant, determined to use them as a surprise to my friends in the city, including Weeville, who was not to escape from my triumph now. There was no depending on the uncertain future, for the grounds of glory were in the basket. I telegraphed an invitation to a supper at the Manhattan Club, merely saying I would bring a dish from my farm that I thought would astonish my friends, and teach them that there was something in home-farming after all. It was a big basket and well filled, that there might be no stint, and weighed so heavily when packed that I put it on the piazza out of the sun till Patrick should bring up the horse. The horse was rather restive; horses always are restive till you get in, and seem to be in a terrible hurry, and there is no end to their anxiety to be under way till they are, when they generally become more moderate. Our horse was peculiarly unsteady on this occasion, and Patrick had all he could do to control him as I climbed over the wheels, for years of hard toil in the field have made me stiff in my limbs, and slow in climbing. So we started in some confusion and trepidation. It was only when the train had reached Jamaica that I found that I had forgotten all about my basket of mushrooms, and had left it calmly resting in the shadiest part of the piazza.
The little party went off very pleasantly at the club, and I left the guests mystified as to which special dish it was that had come from the farm, although Weeville in his blunt fashion blurted out that he believed “I had made another failure of it.”
That night there came a severe frost, and not only were all the mushrooms that had been picked shrivelled up, but those in the garden were killed. I kept that spot sacred next season, hoping that the treasure of the earth would again present itself: but the little genii never favored me thereafter; nothing but weeds grew the ensuing summer, and after that we converted it to the raising of corn and cucumbers. This was a disappointment, but I had the satisfaction of feeling that I had raised the finest mushrooms that ever were seen, and could raise them again, provided they took into their heads to appear as unexpectedly as in this remarkable instance. It is a permanent pleasure to dwell on the thought of how good they would have been, if only we had had a chance to try them, and had not forgotten that basket, and I never can pass that portion of the garden without a reawakening of such sentiments, and if any visitors happen to be with me taking occasion to point out to them my mushroom-bed.