Their virtue is of the volatile sort that vv^ill not stand 

 bottling; it w^ill not enter into essence or tinc- 

 ture. You must yourself go out and pick the cherry 

 under a September sky and in the presence of the 

 first glowing leaves of sumac and Virginia creeper. 

 Does not the bayberry revive and exhilarate the 

 walker, as smelling-salts restore fainting women? 

 You have but to roll the waxen berry in the 

 fingers, or crush the leaf, to feel that indefinable 

 thrill which belongs to the woods, to the open 

 air — the free life. Another vigorous and stimu- 

 lating odor is the fragrance of green butternuts, 

 which contains the goodness, the sweetness, the 

 very marrow of the woods, and calls out the natu- 

 ral and unafFedted, as a strain of music arouses the 

 heroic. The tartness of the barberry matches the 

 crispness of the air and rebukes the lack of vigor 

 in us. No true child can resist the lure of winter- 

 green berries, while to nibble the bark of a fresh 

 young sassafras shoot admits us to some closer as- 

 sociation with Nature. A whifF of balsam is an 

 invitation to share the abandon of the woods, and 

 awakens memories of the halcyon days, the shining 

 hours, when nutting and berrying were the real 

 things of life. 



3 



