THE PAPAW THICKET. 303 



"As the summer waned and the first chill days of September 

 approached Frank asked me: 'Did you ever cat a papaw?' 



" 'No; what is a papaw?' 



" 'They are a fine fruit, and grow on a small tree. They 

 are shaped like a cucumber and are like custard. There is a 

 papaw grove down by the river. They '11 be ripe now in a 

 few days, and we '11 make up a party and go 'coon hunting. 

 'Coons like 'em, and you can always start one in the papaws 

 when they 're ripe.'' 



"I had seen the trees when out after wild plums, which 

 were plenty in that part of Wisconsin, and were large and 

 excellent, but the papaws were merely wondered at and passed. 

 I think there were a dozen in our party when we started for 

 'coons on a moonlight night. Except Frank and Henry, 

 Charley Guyon, John Clark, and Bill Patterson, the names 

 are forgotten. Half a dozen dogs, some of no particular breed 

 and others that seemed to be of all breeds mixed without re- 

 gard to proportion, went along as a necessary part of the outfit. 



"I tasted my first papaw, but have yet to taste the second. 

 The others ate them with a relish. All I remember is that the 

 fruit was shaped something like a banana, but shorter, and 

 had the taste of a raw potato ground into a paste; its seeds 

 were as large as a lima bean. Of course, I might learn to like 

 them, but Potosi boys acquired the taste in infancy." 



It is altogether likely that this "first papaw" of 

 Mr. Mather's was one in the unripe, milky state, when 

 it is decidedly unpleasant and disagreeable, or else he 

 would hardly so have humiliated the noble fruit by 

 characterizing the delicious pulp as "raw potato ground 

 into a paste." His tree, too, was from one of those 

 rare groves which have wandered as far north as Wis- 

 consin, and the papaw never attains to a fine develop- 



