30 SUMMER IN A BOG. 



gence in a mellow and rich pulp under the touch 

 of advancing winter. 



Speaking of the butternut reminds me of 

 the hills of Muskingum, where, as a little girl, 

 I gathered the nuts, where the beech tree flour- 

 ished and the trailing arbutus gladdened my 

 eyes. Does the stone foundation of the hills 

 encourage the growth of these species? None 

 of them I have found in Madison County, save 

 as transplanted for ornamental purposes. 



It was in a low Muskingum valley, near a 

 stream on the edge of a woods, yet where the 

 sun kissed them into ripeness, that in those 

 childhood wanderings I first saw a colony of 

 white blackberries. The fruit were not less 

 than an inch long by less than half an inch in 

 diameter, slightly amber in their whiteness 

 when ripe, but not so rich in flavor as some, 

 nor so acid as some blackberries. Perhaps they 

 bore the same comparison to their black relative 

 in flavor that the white mulberry does to the 

 red. 



Come, we will follow the windings of Mink 

 Run, as it cuts the base of the next Mil. Some 

 colonies of the scouring rash have taken root 

 down there. Mints of various kinds scent the 

 air as we crush them under foot. 



But soon oijr progress is impeded by up- 



