Where Town and Country Meet 



round, hairy berries, pleasantly sour and 

 acrid to the taste, and perfectly harmless. 

 Was there ever a boy who did not love to 

 chew the mouth-puckering sprays of the 

 red sumach and flood his much-enduring 

 stomach with the acrid juice? I picked 

 four of the brilliant cones for my autumn 

 nosegay. Then, descending the other slope 

 of the ridge, I stopped by the tumble- 

 down stone wall that skirted a mountain 

 road, to gather a few of the thick black clus- 

 ters of wild sarsaparilla berries brushing the 

 stones. A little farther along the wall I found 

 some bearberry bushes, a trailing shrub 

 with evergreen leaves. There were but few 

 berries on the low bushes, but these were a 

 beautiful, clear, almost transparent red, and 

 so pleasant in taste that one can readily ap- 

 preciate the relish with which, in good old 

 times, bears were said to devour them. 



Climbing over the wall into the grass- 

 grown road, I followed the faint wheel- 

 tracks down into a little hollow where a 

 brook crossed the road. On both sides of 

 the stream the stone wall was covered with 

 the twining, vinelike stems of the bitter- 

 sweet, heavily fruited with deep orange 

 158 



