The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1897-01-02
WHEN PAwPAws ARE RIPE.
The Golden Fruit as Found in an Indiana
TL5CkeG.


The Golden Fruit as Found in an Indiana
TIiicket.
An a~iluvial soil, coated with a deep
leaf mold and somewhat silicious, is
what the tree chooses to grow in; and
it would be oVcrshadowed. I find the
best fruit maturing in thick woods of
plane, tulip and maple on the
flatlands close to brook sides,
smell by which, in the twilight
of such a forest, you may distinguish
the atmosphere dear to the pawpaw.
Here the woodthrush, the muse of
crcpuscular groves, flutes a mellow
strain at intervals, and all around
chatter ground squirrels and nut
matches. On the hillsidcs near by the
cypripedium, in its season, faunts it's
rose-purplo ret;culc. There, too, the
black haw ripens its fat, shining ber-
ries OF ~licnrice candy.
Get out your bicycle for a six-miIe
spin into the Sugar creek hills. We will
take the Ralhinch road and pedal dill
t.ently toward the Liewellen neighbor-
hood, just this side of which is n wood |
wot of where clumps of Asfmina
trilobn dance down a gentle slope Dor
dcring the brook called Indian creek,
n few miles from its mouth in Sugar.
And what a breeze to whirl through,
and what n road of packed gravel to
fly upon! Over the black fields on
either hand the autumn wheat is maxi
ing n thin wash of green, and the In
dian corn stands in conical shocks
Primly ranged. Many-colored cattle
'~ade knee deep in the third growth of
clover, while flocks of sheep snip the
blue grass.
Youder is the wood. A high barbed
wire fence girds it in, with not an out
side gate to let us through. Well, hang
up the wheels in this wdyside copse and
III show you how TO beat the barbs.
Take off your coat. so; hang it across
he top wire beside the post and scram-
bic over where the coat covers the
POINTS. 1t is Il trite trick, but fairly
good. Behold the sign against which
we set our sinful natures: mo tres
passing on this farm" Tt is lettered
on a board c-cnspicuously nailed to a
tree. Stolen fruit may be sweet, but /
suggest that we GO TO yon man at work
beside a strawstack and negotiate with
him.
Now we are light-hearted. We may
take all we want and welcome. Like
Two schoolboys, away we scamper, and
what a downfall of odorous fruit we
end Long, banana-like, brown and
yellow, the heavy custard apples almost
cover the ground in some places, while
a few crowded clusters still hang on
the boughs. First we eat our fill; then
wa n hoyo.gonI-g full % Al.
choicest specimens. All the way back
home we are fragrant and happy. We
have realized our autumn dream,
/ may be crude of taste and some
what you will-yet
the smack of a Pawpaw goes through
me with a multiform thrill. Iii is sweet
with all the sweets of past days and
years and lingerings and %truancies.
Yesterday q strong woodcock took
wing ear my toes in n Wild custard
grove, and l had neither bow nor g'un;
but m%unching my savage fruit, 1 re-
called in Il second each oozy cripple
that / eve shot over from Canada to
Florida The twarg of the bow cord,
the boom of the gun, the camp fires,
and the savory broilings; they rushed
into my brain and went tingling from
heart center. to outmost extremitics-
all on account of a pawpaw and a
woodcockI
There is a mingling of a hundred fine
sweets and savory tangs in the juice OF
this rank apple, and it goes well with
spitted, dark-aeshed game. What a
manifold sauce 1t is for a luncheon on
n messy log beside n spring aheadi
Three spitted doves of the latest sum
mer Matching and an overripe Pawpaw
is a feast for tho Pan of the
westI
Butyearbyyearthis golden ambrosial
fruit is disappearing. The farmers
AK whacks down all the sturdy clu1nps
md no man plants seeds for future
orchards. From Indiana to Georgia
how few of the oDce-iourishing paw
paw thickets are left for the poet and
the virile man of the woods to lounge
in while feasting on the savage rolls of
custard!-N. Y Independent,