284 In Touch with Nature. 



others' hands too often before reaching the con- 

 sumer. Nature has been the farmer and raised a 

 crop after its own notion. The harvest and the 

 feasting are so near as to be one event; the la- 

 borer is the small boy, whatever his years, and to 

 what merrier feast has he ever been invited? 

 What though you dine on the threshing-floor? 

 The fruit gathered has not soiled it, and what 

 statelier temple stands than the autumn woods ? 

 You are a guest, not an intruder; and now the 

 feast! Does not the persimmon smack of the 

 wild-wood ? How little of the tamed orchard or 

 trim garden in its sugary pulp ! The town and 

 all that that means is for the moment forgotten, 

 and you are in touch with Nature while you eat. 



Long years ago there lived a basket-maker in 

 the meadows, having a railroad switch to look 

 after and willow switches to weave into such 

 shapes as he fancied. He was a curious man, and 

 had he never seen some people I could name, 

 would have been a success. A book might be 

 written about him, but not now ; for the present 

 more prominent than he, in my mind, is his wife's 

 persimmon bread. Tastes change, we are told. 



