THE FRUIT, AND ITS FLAVOR. 75 



There is a wild apple on Nawshawtuck Hill in my 

 town which has to me a peculiarly pleasant bitter 

 tang, not perceived till it is three-quarters tasted. It 

 remains on the tongue. As you eat it, it smells ex 

 actly like a squash-bug. It is a sort of triumph to 

 eat and relish it. 



I hear that the fruit of a kind of plum-tree in 

 Provence is &quot; called Prunes sibarelles, because it is 

 impossible to whistle after having eaten them, from 

 their sourness.&quot; But perhaps they were only eaten 

 in the house and in summer, and if tried out-of-doors 

 in a stinging atmosphere, who knows but you could 

 whistle an octave higher and clearer ? 



In the fields only are the sours and bitters of Na 

 ture appreciated; just as the wood-chopper eats his 

 meal in a sunny glade, in the middle of a winter day, 

 with content, basks in a sunny ray there, and dreams 

 of summer in a degree of cold which, experienced in a 

 chamber, would make a student miserable. They who 

 are at work abroad are not cold, but rather it is they 

 who sit shivering in houses. As with temperatures, 

 so with flavors ; as with cold and heat, so with sour 

 and sweet. This natural raciness, the sours and bit 

 ters which the diseased palate refuses, are the true 

 condiments. 



Let your condiments be in the condition of your 

 senses. To appreciate the flavor of these wild apples 

 requires vigorous and healthy senses, papillae 1 firm 

 and erect on the tongue and palate, not easily flattened 

 and tamed. 



From my experience with wild apples, I can under 

 stand that there may be reason for a savage s prefer- 



1 A Latin word, accent on the second syllable, meaning here 

 the rough surface of the tongue and palate. 



