Elderberry Comforts 
often sees from the road the purplish-black berries spread 
out on sunny boards before farm houses to dry, and as stock 
for pies they are much esteemed by old-fashioned folk. 
Some even enjoy the rank tang of the raw fruit, but this, 
like the taste for caviare, is by most of us not acquired in 
a day. 
The elder, indeed, plays a considerable part in the com¬ 
forts of backroad country life. Elderblow tea, made from 
an infusion of the blossoms, is an old standby in many 
families, to be taken hot for certain complaints and cold 
for others. Elderberry wine shares with cider a place in 
some households that hold themselves anti-alcoholic. As 
for the elder wood, with its easily removable pith, is there 
any other so aptly fitted by nature for the construction of 
popguns? 
In mountainous districts there is a species of this shrub 
which bears inedible scarlet berries ripening even as early 
as June, and the red-fruited bushes are then one of the 
striking sights of summer. The elder of England often 
attains the height of a small tree, and has long been associ¬ 
ated with popular superstitions. Its foliage exhales an un¬ 
pleasant odor, and it is said to be dangerous to sleep beneath 
the branches. Popular tradition has it that Judas hanged 
himself on such a tree—a fable which Shakespeare has 
perpetuated in his comedy of “Love’s Labor Lost.” 
Imagination and old sentiments, we have been reminded 
by the genial Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, are more 
readily reached through the sense of smell than through 
other sources. You realize this very quickly when, tired 
by your rambles you stretch yourself out in the grateful 
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