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STRAWBERRIES 



' \ ITAS it old Dr. Parr who said or sighed in his 

 ' last illness, " Oh, if I can only live till straw- 

 berries come ! " The old scholar imagined that, if 

 he could weather it till then, the berries would carry 

 him through. No doubt he had turned from the 

 drugs and the nostrums, or from the hateful food, 

 to the memory of the pungent, penetrating, and un- 

 speakably fresh quality of the strawberry with the 

 deepest longing. The very thought of these crim- 

 son lobes, embodying as it were the first glow and 

 ardor of the young summer, and with their power to 

 unsheathe the taste and spur the nagging appetite, 

 made life seem possible and desirable with him. 



The strawberry is always the hope of the invalid, 

 and sometimes, no doubt, his salvation. It is the 

 first and finest relish among fruits, and well merits 

 Dr. Boteler's memorable saying, that "doubtless God 

 could have made a better berry, but doubtless God 

 never did." 



On the threshold of summer, Nature proffers us 

 this her virgin fruit; more rich and sumptuous are 

 to follow, but the wild delicacy and fillip of the 

 strawberry are never repeated, that keen feathered 

 edge greets the tongue in nothing else. 



