the fullness of life of those remaining, while I 
grieve over the wanton destruction of so many 
in our country. 
The old apple trees growing beyond Lancaster 
street, between the boulevard and Allen street, 
are at all seasons of the year most interesting. 
No tree is as picturesque as an old apple tree. 
Its gnarled trunk and twisted branches are the 
very poetry of tree life. Most trees have a 
special beauty all their own at one season of the 
year; but the apple tree is beautiful at all seasons. 
The poet would say never more beautiful than 
in winter. Birds are partial to it. The wood- 
pecker, the nuthatch and the chickadee climb 
through and over it from early fall to summer; 
and the bluebird, the robin, and even the song- 
sparrow, naturally a field bird, hie to the poetic 
tree on their first coming, no matter how early 
it may be, so 
“Here’s to the old apple tree, 
Whence thou mayest blow, 
Whence thou mayest blow, 
And whence thou mayest bear apples enow.” 
February 29, 1908. 
16 
