IN CALIFORNIA 231 



of the Orient that Calif ornians might well adopt. I 

 like the apricot, but I never really knew the taste of 

 a fresh one till I came to the Coast. The article you 

 buy in the East for a California apricot is picked 

 unmatured in order to carry across the continent, 

 and is not in the same class as the luscious, blush- 

 ing little fruits that drop into your hand when you 

 jar them fully ripe from their native stems. ' ' 



So gossiping, we top the hill and descend into a 

 quiet valley where, though January is still not quite 

 run out, an orchard is enveloped in a dainty cloud of 

 pink and white bloom resting lightly upon leafless 

 branches. There is no doubt about these trees 

 they are the almond frequently mentioned in the 

 Old Testament, of whose wood Aaron's rod that 

 blossomed was made, and whose inflorescence and 

 nuts were wrought by Moses into the gold work of 

 the candlestick of the tabernacle. It is the earliest 

 of fruit trees to flower, and because of its haste the 

 young nuts are apt to be nipped by late frosts. 

 Passing this way in summer, we shall see the green- 

 jacketed almonds amid the leaves, in shape and look 

 not unlike unripe peaches. They are indeed cousins 

 to the peach, but the pulpy part instead of growing 

 fatter and juicier with age, becomes thin and dry, and 

 at maturity splits open, releasing the nuts. 



4 'And speaking of the Bible," the Professor goes 



