AN OCTOBER DIARY. 289 



position of the nail in the chimney, and, when wearied 

 of its flight, turned to it directly, and, folding its wings 

 about it, seized the nail with a tighter grip, and hung, 

 head down, as it had previously done. In two hours I 

 went to it again, and found it as indifferent to handling 

 as before. 



October 6. — Although the thermometer reached 80° 

 Fahr. in the shade, I took an upland walk this morning, 

 to see if the " old-barn " apples were ripe. They should 

 be, according to the ancient rule ; but my grandfather 

 never could tell why these apples were never ready be- 

 fore the sixth of the month. 



"Tenth month, sixth; or clear or dull, 

 Of old-barn apples, pick a barrel full ; 

 But leave it longer, ere you gather them. 

 And they are rotten, core and stem." 



To be sure, now that the old barn is gone, these apples 

 do not seem quite the same. It really needed the shade 

 of the old building; the moaning of the wind through 

 its loose weather-boards, and the smell of the hay within, 

 to bring out the full flavor of the fruit ; which, after all, 

 was nothing to the stranger. It is just ten years since 

 the barn was removed, and the tree has been dying 

 slowly ever since. The traditional barrelful measured 

 scarcely a peck, and these were sorry specimens of the 

 old-time fruit; nor were they ripe, mj'- grandfather's 

 rhymed rule notwithstanding. They need at least one 

 stinging white frost to finish the ripening process, and 

 that is yet to come. 

 While I sat on the top rail of the bars, at the corner 

 13 



