166 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



ing on my present beat, and to give it a place 

 here in my collection of Minor Prophets. 



How little the two (Leucothoe and blue- 

 berry) resemble each other at this time of 

 the year may be seen by comparing the stem 

 I have been talking about with the one lying 

 next to it a short twig, every branchlet 

 of which ends in a very bright, extremely 

 handsome (if one stops to regard it) pinkish 

 globe. This is the high-bush blueberry in 

 its best winter estate. Every bud is like a 

 jewel. 



Only one branch remains to be spoken of, 

 for I took but a small handful : a dark green 

 blackish-green tarnished stem, the two 

 branches of which bear each a terminal bud 

 of the size of a pea. This specimen you will 

 know at once by its odor, if you were ever 

 happy enough to dig sassafras roots, or to 

 eat sassafras lozenges, such as used to come 

 perhaps they do still rolled up in paper, 

 as bankers roll up coins. " Sassafras lossen- 

 gers," we called them, and the shopkeeper 

 (who is living yet, and still " tending store " 

 at ninety-odd) seemed never in doubt as to 

 what we meant. Each kind of lozenge, 



