THE CHESTNUTS 45 



southern Europe. Japan has contributed to American 

 horticulture a native species which bears large but not 

 very sweet nuts, that are good when cooked. Our two 

 trees bear sweet nuts, of a flavor that no mode of cooking 

 improves. In truth, there is no finer nut; and the time to 

 enjoy it to the highest degree is a few weeks after the frost 

 opens the burs and lets the nuts fall. "Along about 

 Thanksgiving," they have lost some of their moisture and 

 are prime. 



In foreign countries the chestnut is a rich, nourishing 

 food, comparable to the potato. Who could go into 

 ecstasies over a vegetable that is a staple food for the 

 peasants of Europe, Asia, and North Africa? Our chestnut 

 is no staple. It is a delicacy. It is treasure trove from the 

 autumn woods, and the gathering of the crop is a game in 

 which boys and squirrels are rivals. 



Ernest Thompson Seton, always a boy, knows the im- 

 patience with which the opening of the burs is watched for, 

 as the belated frosts keep off, and the burs hang tantahz- 

 ingly closed. The cruel wounds made by the spines and 

 the raw taste of the immature nuts are poor recompense 

 for the labor of nutting before Nature gives the sign that 

 all's ready. 



Here is Mr. Seton's estimate of the chestnut of "brown 

 October's woods." 



"Whenever you see something kept under lock and key, 

 bars and bolts, guarded and double-guarded, you may be 

 sure it is very precious, greatly coveted. The nut of this 

 tree is hung high aloft, wrapped in a silk wrapper, which is 

 enclosed in a case of sole leather, which again is packed in a 

 mass of shock-absorbing, vermin-proof pulp, sealed up in a 

 waterproof, iron-wood case, and finally cased in a vege- 



