The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1866-10-20
Paw.Paws

There is no fruit in the world that
we know Of which can compare with
the pawpaw in richness and flavor. We
entertain tender memory of bananas,
ripened in the fierce blaze of tropical
sun, plucked from the burdened clusters
which hang among the broad, green
leaves of the parent stock, aud melting
on THE enraptured palate, delicious and
creamy, with the slightest suspicion Of
piquant tartness, but the remembrance
of the banana is Overshadowed by the
recollection of large, golden pawpaws,
shaken from the trees and bushes in
Woods Run, between Bridgeport and
Martinsville, and near Burlington, a
few miles above, and devoured with
feelings of thankfulness to "God, the
good giver." Eating bananas is ex-
quisite enjoyment, but eating pawpaws
is acme of gustatory bliss. A peculiar
ity of the pawpaw is that, even when
eaten imnnoderately, they do not turn
to acid in the process of digestion, and
the gournand does not pay for his in
diligence by that fearful sense of oppres-
sion in the gastric region that follows
"hoggishness' with other fruits-just as
if you had swallowed IN iron wedge, or
an Irishmans hod, with its load of
bricks and mortar.
There are two kinds Of pawpaws, the
yellow and the white. The former ri
pens early, and is of incompatible rich
ness. The other ripcns later, and is
rather racipid when compared with its
more aristocratic fellow; but after hav-
ing gone through the ordeal of few
heavy frosts, it becomes delicious cdi-
bic. Walking through the forests l"to
in November, over the carpet OF many
colored leaves, which glorious autumn
spreads over the teeming earth; you
kick up kidney-shaped and luscious
pawpaws which have now fallen from
the bear and lcafless trees. Remove
the blackened rind, and enjoy feast
for the gods. The Neapolitans have a
prOvcrb which says, Eat stuffed olives
and die" The pawpaw does not grow
in the neighborhood of Naples, or the
olive would not have received such IA
vorable mention.
The pawpaw is an untamable fruit.
1t could not be improved by cultivation,
because ii is the chef d'Guvre of nature
in her first effort; but attempts have
been made to domesticate it, lest the axe
of the goodman and the tramping feet
of the cattle on thousand hills should
Danish it from the country. Transport
ed into the field or orchard, it pines for
its native wilds, sickens, and dies. 1t
scorns the pillow and the pruning knife,
and only fourishes i'll the grateful shade
of the woodland glen, by the banks of
the leaping rivulct or sluggish bayou.
There is one popularity about the
pawpaw, for which we are truly, pro-
foundly grateful. Yankees and hogs
will not eat it. The native Westerner
1.-THE, lathe-like, and sinewy, with
dev elopment in keeping with his topo
graphical surro'mdings-and the prowl-
ing opossum are tie only animals which
comprehend and appreciate the paw
paw. We regard the fondness of the
opossum for it as the ouly redeeming
feature in his character. He is craven,
and sneak, dirty in his habits, rat-like
in the smoothness of his caudal contin-
uation, and smelling badly when freshly
turned out of his lair; but there must be
latent nobility iu his character, or he
would not eat pawpaws.