330 An American Fruit-Farm 



grapevines. The fruit-grower may make a tree 

 fruitful and miss being fruitful himself. There 

 is a hint of serenity in an October tree, weighed 

 down with golden fruit ; there is a hint of troops of 

 friends in the apple tree in full bloom, the bees 

 humming among the branches. There is a hint 

 of wisdom in the fruit-farm well-placed, well-made, 

 well-tended, trees and vines shining in vigor. 



But every plant has its enemies: insects, fungi, 

 beating sleet, crushing winds; it is attacked in 

 earth and air, in bud and blossom, in leaf and fruit, 

 bark, twig, and root. The wonder is it survives. 

 Perhaps, could we see our own race as we see plants, 

 we would wonder that there is a himian being left 

 on the earth. That the race survives is the miracle 

 of life, — ^whether of plant or animal. 



Does the fruit-farmer care for himself as well as 

 he cares for his vines and trees? Here is the su- 

 preme question, and the answer is the man himself. 

 He too fades as a leaf, but next year the leaves burst 

 forth afresh. The tree too nms its cycle; it falls to 

 earth again to become part of the soil and food for 

 later generations of its kind. The question of ques- 

 tions is, ^*If a man die shall he live again?'* ''As the 

 tree falls, shall it lie so?'' The one we answer in 

 faith and hope; the other Nature answers before our 

 eyes and in our own experience. If there be any 

 difference between the tree and the man, it is think- 

 ing that makes it so. Of what then can the fruit- 

 farmer think? Of grapes, cherries, peaches, only? 

 or of himself? And not of himself solely but of 



