THE FRUITS AND FRUIT TREES OF MOROCCO. 



179 



ophy, if I were not " a son of the Prophet." 



The fruit of the pear docs not grow to a 

 large size, but it is often of a fine, juicy quality. 

 The drawing I send, is from a pear taken from 

 the large tree in my garden, just alluded to. In 

 its fine flavor, and juicy sweetness, it somewhat 

 resembles our Seckel. It ripens early in June. 



The Apricot. — The tree grows luxuriant- 

 ly, but the fruit is usually small, and of infe- 

 rior quality. If first rate kinds were intro- 

 duced here, I doubt not they would succeed 

 well. They ripen in May. That drawn, is 

 from Gibraltar, and was probably raised in 

 the south of Spain. 



Nectarines are seldom to be met with 

 here. Strawberries and Blackberries 

 grow here, but not of so fine a quality as in 

 the States. We have ripe strawberries here 

 as early as February, and until July. Rasp- 

 berries are rarely seen. The Strawberry 

 Tree, growing wild upon the mountains, pro- 

 duces great quantities of fine fruit, as large as 

 a medium-sized apricot, and very palatable, as 

 well as exceedingly beautiful, with its rosy 

 cheek, and luscious, strawberry-like appear- 

 ance. I call them the '■'•Mountain Strawber- 

 ry ^ for want of a more appropriate name. 



Of Apples, Peaches, Plums, Cherries, 

 and Quinces, there are a plenty of full-grown 

 trees, but the fruit is not fit to eat. But 

 whether it is the fault of the climate, or the 

 people in not introducing the choice varieties 

 of these fruits, I am unable to state from ac- 

 tual demonstration. I procured from Western 

 New York, in the winter of 1849, a choice 

 collection of these fruit trees, and planted 

 them in my garden, in the spring of that year. 

 They were packed at Rochester in the late au- 

 tumn, but were detained in New York await- 

 ing the sailing of a vessel so long that they 

 did not reach me until about the first of June. 

 On unpacking them, I found that the peaches, 

 apricots, and nectarines, were all dead and 

 dried up, while some of the other kinds were 



bursting their buds and beginning to grow. I 

 suppose the former were killed by the frost, 

 while in New York, or before reaching there. 

 Those that survived, I planted immediately in 

 my garden — and nearly all have lived, and 

 they grew finely the first summer, (some of the 

 apples blossoming,) and the following winter 

 and spring. Among those now growing thrift- 

 ily, are the Belle de Choisey and the May 

 Duke cherry ; one or two kinds of quinces 

 and plums ; and of apples, the R. I. Green- 

 ing, the Newtown Pippin, the Holland Pip- 

 pin, the Red, White and Yellow Juneating, 

 the Belleflower, Spitzenburg, and the North- 

 ern Spy — this last, (and a favorite of mine it 

 is,) out-strips all the others in its thrifty and 

 rapid growth. Whether these trees will pro- 

 duce their fruit in all the luxurious perfection 

 of their own native soil and clime, or whether 

 their delicious qualities will become deteriora- 

 ted by being transplanted into this land of 

 burning suns and snowless winters and perpet- 

 ual verdue, remains for time to determine. A 

 few years will solve the problem. 



I never knew how to prize the delicious 

 fruits of my own dear country, until since I 

 have been deprived of them, by a two years' 

 residence in this " Land of the Moor." And 

 many is the time that I would have given a 

 dozen of our best oranges for one of your fine 

 Pippins or Northern Spys, or for a single lus- 

 cious peach, or a handful of the delicious cher- 

 ries of Western New York. And but for the 

 luscious fresh figs and delicious grapes of this 

 country, I fear that my hankering after the 

 "fruit pots" of my native country, would 

 have been unappeasable. 



But I have spun out my communication to 

 a tedious length, I fear, and I will therefore 

 close. Hoping to meet you in September, at 

 the State Fair in Albany, over a dish of your 

 finest Pippins or Seek-no-furthers, I remain. 

 Very truly yours, T. H. Hyatt. 



Tangier. Jidtj 4, 1850. 



