A-MAYING 31 



to fill a small box to send out West. For years 

 had the New England born father longed for a 

 whiff of this precious odor. He should have it ; 

 and the flowers would never be missed. 



While we sisters gloated over the happiness the 

 arbutus would bring to the prairie home we were 

 startled by a shout from down stream. It was 

 dinner time and the Doctor was prospecting for 

 fire -wood. We followed, expecting to find the 

 fire built and the forked sticks ready for the coffee- 

 pail. Instead we found an excited man with a bas- 

 ket half-full of brown fungi and still picking them. 



"Morels!" he had been shouting, when we 

 thought he had said, "Girls!" "More than you 

 ever saw before !" and the basket proved it. "Did 

 we bring any butter?" "Shall we broil 'em or 

 fry 'em?" I might have said we'd do neither with- 

 out a fire; but instead, I, too, hunted morels. Thej 

 were not easy to see, though unlike anything else, 

 but we each found some and left all the old ones 

 "for seed." 



We broiled them one at a time, stuck on a 

 pointed stick and held over the coals. How like 

 toothsome bits of tenderloin they tasted, with our 

 plain bread and butter ! Persons who have a pre- 

 judice against miscellaneous fungi and prefer to 

 eat only those which have been "warranted" by a 

 grocer, would do well to leave this plant to the 

 millipedes and snails, and to us. We are willing to 

 trust the experience of our own palates and the 

 wrinkled brown surface of the morel is warranty 

 enough for us. 



