112 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



and juicy (of the size of peas), and if their 

 sweetness failed to tempt the palate, that, 

 for aught I know, may have been the eater's 

 fault rather than theirs. Why might not 

 their quality be of a too excellent sort, be- 

 yond his too effeminate powers of apprecia- 

 tion? Is there any certainty that man's 

 taste is final in such matters ? Was my own 

 criticism of them anything more than a piece 

 of unscientific, inconclusive impressionism ? 



Surely they were not without a tang. The 

 most exacting mouth could not deny them 

 individuality. I tried them, and retried 

 them; but after all, they seemed most in 

 place on the vines. To me, in the old days, 

 they were known only as frost grapes. 

 Others, it appears, have called them chicken 

 grapes, possum grapes, and winter grapes. 

 No doubt they find customers before the sea- 

 son is over. Thoreau should have liked them 

 and praised them, but I do not recall them 

 in his books. Probably they do not grow in 

 Concord. They are of his kin, at all events, 

 wildings of the wild. I wish I had brought a 

 bunch or two home with me. In my present 

 mood I believe they would " go to the spot." 



