THE APPLE. 31 



As winter set in, another coating of earth was put 

 upon it, with perhaps an overcoat of coarse dry stable 

 manure, and the precious pile was left in silence and 

 darkness till spring. No marmot hibernating under 

 ground in his nest of leaves and dry grass, more cosy 

 and warm. No frost, no wet, but fragrant privacy 

 and quiet. Then how the earth tempers and flavors 

 the apples ! It draws out all the acrid unripe quali- 

 ties, and infuses into them a subtle refreshing taste 

 of the soil. Some varieties perish ; but the ranker, 

 hardier kinds, like the northern spy, the greening, or 

 the black apple, or the russet, or the pinnock, how 

 they ripen and grow in grace, how the green becomes 

 gold, and the bitter becomes sweet ! 



As the supply in the bins and barrels gets low and 

 spring approaches, the buried treasures in the garden 

 are remembered. With spade and axe we go out and 

 penetrate through the snow and frozen earth till the 

 inner dressing of straw is laid bare. It is not quite 

 as clear and bright as when we placed it there last 

 fall, but the fruit beneath, which the hand soon ex- 

 poses, is just as bright and far more luscious. Then, 

 as day after day you resort to the hole, and, removing 

 the straw and earth from the opening, thrust your 

 arm into the fragrant pit, you have a better chance 

 than ever before to become acquainted with your 

 favorites by the sense of touch. How you feel fop 

 them, reaching to the i-ight and left ! Now you have 

 got a Tolman sweet ; you imagine you can feel that 

 single meridian line that divides it into two hemi- 

 spheres. Now a greening fills your hand, you feel its 

 fine quality beneath its rough coat. Now you have 

 hooked a swaar, you recognize its full face ; now a 

 V'andevere or a King rolls down from the apex above, 



