14 MY REAL ESTATE. 



cymes of dark purplish drupes. Here and 

 there was a spike of red berries, belong- 

 ing to the false Solomon's - seal or false 

 spikenard (what a pity this worthy herb 

 should not have some less negative title !) ; 

 but these it would have been a shame to 

 steal from the grouse. Not far off a single 

 black alder was reddening its fruit, which 

 all the while it hugged close to the stem, 

 as if in dread lest some chance traveler 

 should be attracted by the bright color. It 

 need not have trembled, for this time at 

 least. I had just dined, and was tempted 

 by nothing save two belated blackberries, 

 the very last of the year's crop, and a single 

 sassafras leaf, mucilaginous and savory, ad- 

 mirable as a relish. A few pigeon-berries 

 might have been found, I dare say, had I 

 searched for them, and possibly a few spo- 

 radic checkerberries ; while right before 

 my eyes was a vine loaded with large 

 bunches of very small frost-grapes, such as 

 for hardness would have served well enough 

 for school-boys' marbles. Everything has 

 its favorable side, however; and probably 

 the birds counted it a blessing that the 

 grapes were small and hard and sour ; else 



