4 LITERARY PILGRIMAGES 



fast as they pick them. They never taste quite 

 so good as on this direct route from producer to 

 consumer. Along this path you may have your 

 choice of varieties as you go, from the pale blue 

 ones that grow so very near the earth on their 

 tiny bushes that they seem the salt of it, giving 

 the day its zest, through the low-bush-blacks, 

 crisp with seeds and aromatic in flavor as if 

 smoked with the incense of the sweet fern, to 

 those other black ones that grow on the high 

 bushes and rightfully take the name of huckle- 

 berry. The soil of these sandy hills may be thin 

 and not worth farming, but it produces fruit 

 whose quality puts to shame the product of well- 

 cultivated gardens. The good bishop of England 

 who once said, " Doubtless God could have pro- 

 duced a better berry than the strawberry, but 

 doubtless He never did," never ate blueberries 

 from the bush in a New England pasture. 



From the summit of Black Mount the grassy 

 hill slopes sharply beneath your feet to the road 

 and beyond this to the home acres of the Webster 

 place, the roof tree far below you and the house 

 snuggling among the trees that the great states- 



