On Fruit-Critics. 213 



be sure; but lacking a certain " — well, something which belongs to the less- 

 known sorts. Nay, a very distinguished fruit-grower, into whose grounds 

 I chanced to stroll upon a delightful September day, thought it necessary 

 to excuse the appearance of a single Bartlett pear-tree in the midst of his 

 beautiful pyramids of other growth : " It was an inadvertence ; planted 

 by error : he should regraft it." 



The Concord holds nearly the same relative position among the newer 

 grapes, in which I would include the Diana, Hartford Prolific, Delaware, 

 lona, Rogers's Hybrids, Israella, and Adirondac. The Concord does not, 

 indeed, maintain the same kingship in the larger markets which belongs to 

 the Bartlett among pears ; yet it is the accepted type of a good grape, 

 and a profitable one for the million. 



The largest I'eason, perhaps, of this popular success, lies in the fact that 

 both the Bartlett pear and the Concord grape can be easily grown ; will 

 bear all exposures, harsh treatment ; and, without any thing more than the 

 hap-hazard attention which the majority of fruit-growers bestow, will bear 

 good crops, and come to full maturity. It would be idle to say that these 

 considerations should not and do not count largely in their favor. And 

 it is easily comprehensible how these same considerations should be made 

 of little account by those assiduous cultivators who make it a matter of 

 conscience to give extreme care and the nicest watchfulness to whatever 

 they take in hand, and who count it a sin to treat any vine or tree with 

 neglect. Ease of culture, however, and absolute hardiness, would not alto- 

 gether account for the popularity of the fruits we have named. The public 

 may be a buzzard, if you will, on the score of taste ; but even buzzards have 

 a taste. Pomologists must keep cool in their reckonings. 



Professional and popular judgment vaiy in the matter of books as much 

 as in the matter of fruits. Some author whose wares sell by thousands and 

 tens of thousands this year and next, is, perhaps, the very one whom the 

 astute critics of the recognized organs of literary taste pounce upon with a 

 fury. The man of large and nice culture has no appetite for those grosser 

 flavors, however new or however curiously composite, which may lie sweetly 

 under the tongue of the multitude. All the world reads Mr. Trollope and 

 Miss Braddon, though all the critics cry ''Cave f" So, however much these 

 latter gentlemen may praise the delicate touch and the artist-like achieve- 



