a good Kansas breeze of apples. 

 I do not despair. "They also serve 

 who only stand and wait," says my 

 special friend, Milton. This being so, 

 I am a high-grade servant of the 

 apple crop. I stand and wait. 

 This fall I went through the 

 orchard, and (say it with 

 no haste, nor yet "trip- 

 pingly on the 

 tongue, "but with 



ruddy; 

 luscious 

 scions 

 of the 

 house of apple. 

 What a day that 

 was ! I can not for- 

 get it; and, to be plain 

 I have not tried to. 

 That was my day of 

 vindication. I was like 

 Job when his trouble 

 was over I felt good. I felt 

 very good. "Apples! apples! " 

 I cried, instead of calling out 

 that ancient word (so archaic), 

 "Eureka!" That same day I picked 

 pears (not from the apple-trees), and 

 some late peaches (hard as biscuits new 

 wives bake). But providence has vindi- 

 cated me. Those who thought me mad (and 

 what is worse, told me and others what they 

 thought) are now humiliated, and I, to use the 

 psalmist's phrase, may stand by and say, "Aha! 



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