A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



I do not know that excessive health destroys 

 temperament, but Gabe had not as much as a tree. 

 A tree is at least sensitive and transmutes carbon 

 and silex into something a little more sympathetic 

 than gas and atoms. There was a young poplar 

 visible from the door of our hut that had many 

 indications of juvenile vivacity and responsive 

 delicacy. I have watched it dancing and whisper 

 ing in delight and turning up the white palms of 

 its myriad leaves when there was not air enough 

 to move the flame with which I was lighting my 

 corn-cob pipe, and all the oaks and chestnuts 

 stood wrapped in petrified disdain, utterly una 

 ware that anything was passing. 



While I am writing this there comes back to 

 me like a fruity odour, the remembrance of an 

 apple tree that stood overshadowing the back 

 porch of my father s house. It was a gnarled 

 and stunted affair, but oh, what summer apples 

 it bore when it was in the mood. And that s the 

 point it had its moods, that no almanac or hor 

 ticulturist could get the hang of. I have never 

 tasted such apples since little red-streaked 

 affairs that burst into wine at the very sight of 

 your teeth, and bent the boughs low down with 

 their largesse. When the family of us grew up 

 and went our ways, we often wrote home from 

 different points of the compass for a basket of 

 the July apples, but although the &quot; old man &quot; 

 rolled them up in paper and packed them in cool 

 corn leaves, they always perished before we got 

 them, for they captivated with their odour every 



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