Who that has ever lived in the country does not remember the old straggling currant-bushes that disputed their existence with grass, docks, and other coarse-growing weeds along some ancient fence?  Many also can recall the weary task of gathering a quart or two of the diminutive fruit for pies, and the endless picking required to obtain enough for the annual jelly-making.  Nor is this condition of affairs a thing of the past.  Drive through the land where you will in early July, and you will see farmers mowing round the venerable Red Dutch currants “to give the women-folks a chance at ’em.”  The average farmer still bestows upon this fruit about as much attention as the aborigines gave to their patches of maize.  This seems very absurd when we remember the important place held in the domestic economy by the currant, and how greatly it improves under decent treatment.  If it demanded the attention which a cabbage-plant requires, it would be given; but the currant belongs to that small class of creatures which permit themselves to be used when wanted, and snubbed, neglected, and imposed upon at other times.  It is known that the bushes will manage to exist, and do the Very best they can, no matter how badly treated; and average human nature has ever taken advantage of such traits, to its continuous loss.

The patience of the currant is due perhaps to its origin, for it grows wild round the northern hemisphere, its chief haunts being the dim, cold, damp woods of the high latitudes.  You may tame, modify, and vastly change anything possessing life; but original traits are scarcely ever wholly eradicated.  Therefore the natural habitat and primal qualities of the currant indicate the true lines of development, its capabilities and limitations.  It is essentially a northern fruit, requiring coolness, moisture, and alluvial soils.  It begins to falter and look homesick even in New Jersey; and one has not to go far down the Atlantic coast to pass beyond the range of its successful culture.  I do not see why it should not thrive much further south on the northern slopes of the mountains.  From Philadelphia northward, however, except on light dry soils and in sunny exposures, there is no reason why it should not give ample returns for the attention it requires.

I shall not lay stress on the old, well-known uses to which this fruit is put, but I do think its value is but half appreciated.  People rush round in July in search of health:  let me recommend the currant cure.  If any one is languid, depressed in spirits, inclined to headaches, and generally “out of sorts,” let him finish his breakfast daily for a month with a dish of freshly picked currants.  He will soon, almost doubt his own identity, and may even begin to think that he is becoming a good man.  He will be more gallant to his wife, kinder to his children, friendlier to his neighbors, and more open-handed to every good cause.  Work will soon seem play, and play fun.  In brief, the truth of the ancient pun will be verified, that “the power to live a good life depends largely upon the liver.”  Out upon the nonsense of taking medicine and nostrums during the currant-season!  Let it be taught at theological seminaries that the currant is a “means of grace.”  It is a corrective; and that is what average humanity most needs.