168 



THE CANADIAN HORTICULTURIST. 



OUR OLD APPLE TREE. 



What ails this weary heart o' mine 

 What brings tlie tear drips to my 'ee ? 

 'Tis the memnry o' Auld lang syne 

 And my bairnies bonny apple tree. 



I had but one in our kail yard 

 The queen o' all her kind was she, 

 Planted by Glen-Gowair's Laird 

 Lang e'er the birth o' John or me. 



It had nae braw newfangled name 

 As "Bietigheiiner " or sic like, 

 But was a tree o' guidly fame 

 An proudly nodded o'er the dyke. 



(The diel ne'r seowed a finer apple 

 To gar our ra<ither fa' frae graoe. 

 An leave its mark on Adam'a thrapjile 

 And a' the Sons o' Adam's race). 



Oft do the tears come welling o'er 

 My furrowed chenks, while in my sleep 

 I see my bairnies, as of yore 

 Happy darlings on that seat. 



Under the dear auld apple tree, 

 Whi're my guid man, on Sabbath days 

 Forgetlier'd wi the weans dii'me. 

 To tell o' wisdom's i)Ieasant ways. 



" Now they are women grown, an' men." 

 Some gae'd east, some wander'd west. 

 An' some below the mools were lain 

 Wi my guid man in peaceful rest. 



The years o' Pilgrimage ga'en me 

 Is dawning on three score an' ten, 

 Still 'neath that honnie apple tree 

 I see my bairnies young again ! 



Grandma. 



THE SHAMROCKS. 



"Here gran'ma here's a present, it has come a distance, 

 too, 



'Tis a Utile pot of shamrocks and it comes addressed 

 to you ; 



Yes, all tlie way from Ireland, and the cud here men- 

 tions more — 



They were gathered at your birthplace on "he banks of 

 Avoiimore." 



"From Ireland! do you tell me? O, darling, is it 



true? 

 Acushla, let me feel tliem — and you say 'twas there 



they grew? 

 Why, I can scarce believe it ; is it really what you say? 

 From my birthjilace in old Ireland! poor old Ireland 



far away. 



"I'm old and stiff and feeble, and in darkness, God be 



lir.ii.scd, 

 Yet, Katie, how it starts me, how my jioor old heart 



is rai.ned. 

 To feel it here so near ine, the soil that gave me birth. 

 The very day of Ireland ; let me kiss the holy earth. 



"These blessed little shamrocks! I can't sec them, 



yet I know 

 They bring me back the eyesight of the hajypy long 



ago ! 

 And gleaming through the darkness comes the vision 



that I love. 

 The dark green fields of Ireland and the sunny sky 



above. 



•' I see, as I once saw them, when a girl like you I 

 stood 



Amid the furze and heather ; there's the chapel, hill 

 and wood ; 



There's the abbey clad with ivy, and the river's wind- 

 ing shore, 



And the boys and girls a41 playing on the banks of 

 Avonmore. 



" God bless the little shamrocks then, for bringing 



back the scene, 

 The beauty of the sunshine, the brightness of the 



green ; 

 Thro' long, long years to see it, and see it all so plain. 

 Ah, cViild, I'm sure you're smiling, but I'm feeling 



young again. 



" And then I'm truly thankful for the blessings that 

 God's hand 



Has brought around me, Katie, in this great and happy 

 , land. 



I can't forget the old home, 'midst the comforts of the 

 new. 



My heart is three parts buried where those little sham- 

 rocks grew." 



Butter-milk and Water as an Insec- 

 ticide. — To get rid of the cabbage-worm 

 I have successfully used butter milk and 

 water the last two years — about one-third 

 of the former to two-thirds of the latter. 

 My cabbages were also badly infested with 

 lice, but two applications freed them com- 

 pletely, The brown and yellow striped 

 bug, the great pest to cucumber and water- 

 melon vine3, will do no damage if the 

 vines are occasional]}' sprinkled with the 

 mixture ; but I think they require sprink- 

 ling oftener and with a stronger solution 

 of butter-milk than the cabbage. — W. C. 

 C. Rural New Yorker. 



The Pea-Bug. — Mr. T. Coryell, of 

 Whitby, Ont. , grows six hundred acres of 

 peas, which he chiefly sells to American 

 seedsmen. For the pea-bug coal oil is the 

 specific, a gallon and a half for sixty 

 bu.shels. The seed to be purged of bugs 

 is spread in the bottom of a bin to the depth 

 of a few inches. Then with a fine water- 

 ing can, the spout of which is flattened 

 and perforated on the under side with fine 

 holes, the oil is applied. Very little does 

 for a dejith of three inches ; tlie rake soon 

 covers all the peas with a coating of oil. 

 Then a seccmd layer is put on and simil- 

 arly treated. Mr. C. says that his exjieri- 

 luents show that not a bug survives the 

 sixth day, and the vitality c>f the peas is 

 not the least impaired by the oil. 



I'RINTEU AT rllK STKAM PIlBSS ESTABL1.SHMEST OF COI'P, CI.ARK 4 CO. COLtOBNK .STREET TORONTO. 



