The Fruit-Farm and Old Age 331 



himself in htiman relations — those relations which 

 Shakespeare tells us mark green old age, *'love, 

 honor, obedience, troops of friends.'* We come 

 then by way of orchard and vine to the man him- 

 self, having long since passed the cherry tree. 

 That is hanging full of scarlet balls amidst the 

 green, fine product of Nature's craft. Is he also 

 fruitful, a spirit abounding in the humanities? 

 Is he symbolized in his cherry tree? 



A very mean man may raise very fine cherries, — 

 sweet cherries, not English Morellos, — and a very 

 good man may have no cherries on his trees, not 

 even Morellos. There lived, long years ago, in 

 the Valley a valiant pioneer named James Smed- 

 ley, a Yale man of the old type, a medical son of 

 Eli. He was always eloquent of temperance. 

 "But, Doctor," said Halsey Taylor to him one 

 day, the hot sun streaming down upon them in the 

 barley field, "how is it that you, who are so strong 

 a temperance man, raise so much barley?*' 



"Why, young man, reason enough! Reason 

 enough! I raise barley for seed!" 



In the search for old age one is not compelled 

 to travel by way of a fruit-farm; he may reach 

 it by any route, anywhere; indeed, give him time, 

 and he cannot miss it. There are routes and routes. 

 Were he to choose, which would he take? Did 

 fruit-growing lead to perpetual youth, all the world 

 would be fruit-growers. It is accident, promise, 

 volition, profit, each and all which lead him over 

 the route. When we consider the perils he will 



