MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



promise from good treatment. There was, I 

 remember, a long weakly row of the Madeleine, 

 shrouded in lichens, and with their lank frail 

 limbs all tipped with dead wood. It is an en- 

 ticing fruit, by reason of its early ripening, 

 and its pleasant sprightly flavor; but its per- 

 sistent inclination to rot at the core, in most 

 soils, makes it a very unprofitable one, I 

 forthwith cut away their dying, straggling 

 tops, and by repeated diggings about the roots, 

 stimulated a growth of new wood, upon which 

 luxuriant grafts are now (six years after com- 

 mencement of operations) bearing full crops 

 of more approved varieties. The Jargonelles 

 were almost past cure. Long struggle with 

 neglect had nearly paralyzed their vegetative 

 power; but by setting a few scions of such 

 rank growers as the Buffum upon the most 

 promising of the purple shoots, I have met 

 with fair success. The Jargonelle itself, I may 

 remark in passing, seems to me not fitly appre- 

 ciated in the race after new French varieties. 

 It has a juiciness, a crispness, and a vinous 

 flavor, which however scorned by the later 

 pomologists, are exceedingly grateful on a 

 hot August day. 



There was a great rank of Virgouleuse 

 (white Doyenne) — pinched in their foliage, 



164 



