The Rescue of an Old Place 



which, though not large, still serves to 

 purchase them a reprieve. 

 Methuselah One of the conspicuous ornaments of 

 the level space below the northern ter- 

 race of the house is an old Pear-tree we 

 call Methuselah, which was transplanted 

 in 1779, and, in spite of its great age, still 

 bears a profusion of hard, sweet pears, 

 which the housewives consider excellent 

 for coddling, or preserving with barberries. 

 This ancient and honorable old continen- 

 tal, which stands some fifty feet in its 

 stockings, girths ten feet and three inches 

 a foot from the ground, and has a coat so 

 beautifully wrinkled and seamed with age, 

 that our artist friend tells us a Japanese 

 would beg a bit of the bark for a curio, 

 and exhibit it as a precious and artistic 

 possession. In the spring its venerable 

 poll is snowy with blossoms, and though 

 its great trunk is quite hollow within, the 

 six huge branches into which it separates 

 near the base spread wide and strong, and 

 send out from their broken tops vigorous 

 young shoots, on which the fruit grows 

 profusely. 



We suppose this to be the original well 

 88 



