AN OCTOBER DIARY. 337 



are persimmons and persimmons, and while some are 

 really worthless and painfully astringent, even after 

 many frosts, others, after a nipping frost or two, are 

 really delicious. 



My talkative neighbor. Miles Overfield, has noticed 

 this fact, too, and when questioned about it this morn- 

 ing, said, " The best p'simmons grow on dry ground, and 

 some say the trees must be mixed with oaks to get their 

 top flavor. I know the best trees about here grow that 

 way, and the 'possums know it too. The big p'simmon- 

 trees 'long the line fence 'twixt you and next place al- 

 ways has a 'possum or two in, in the full of the October 

 moon. I've taken one or two there every fall so long 

 as I can remember." 



"What other animal eats persimmons, or does any 

 bird ?" I asked, when Miles stopped a moment to catch 

 his breath. 



"Not that I know of. Perhaps a blue-jay might eat 

 the seeds, or a starvin' crow, in a snow-storm ; but I 

 never saw the like." 



Not because a few long straws were lying conveniently 

 near, but for purely biological purposes, I took the bung 

 from a barrel of new cider. If this third white frost 

 has not killed all insect life, then they will be sure to 

 collect about tlie barrel. No insects came, and I found, 

 on testing the cider, that if insects were still about they 

 surely would have flocked hither — the cider was excel- 

 lent. It would appear that the rule of three frosts is 

 nearly correct, and kills, or sends to winter -quarters, 

 flies, bugs, and beetles that have hummed and buzzed 



all summer. 



15 



