"Catharine," said Louis, one day, "the huckleberries age now very
plentiful, and I think it would be a wise thing to gather a good store of
them, and dry them for the winter. See, ma chere, wherever we turn our
eyes, or place our feet, they are to be found; the hill sides are purple
with them. We may, for aught we know, be obliged to pass the rest of our
lives here; it will be well to prepare for the winter when no berries are
to be found."
"It will be well, mon ami, but we must not dry them in the sun; for let me
tell you, Mr. Louis, that they will be quite tasteless--mere dry husks."
"Why so, ma belle?"
"I do not know the reason, but I only know the fact, for when our mothers
dried the currants and raspberries in the sun, such was the case, but when
they dried them on the oven floor, or on the hearth, they were quite nice."
"Well, Cath., I think I know of a flat thin stone that will make a good
hearthstone, and we can get sheets of birch bark and sew into flat bags, to
keep the dried fruit in."
They now turned all their attention to drying huckleberries (or
whortleberries).
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