EDITORIAL MISCELLANY 



UR table' — of stout black walnut, four by 

 six — has, during the past month, been a dis- 

 play that would have tempted Adam of old, 

 without the luring of that beguiled female. 

 Mother Eve. 



Monstrous pippins, with waxen exterior, 

 glistened out, half-hidden from view by lus- 

 cious grapes. Pears have melted on our 

 tongue, which in turn have been washed 

 away by wine from native grapes, as 

 fruity in flavor as the choicest Amontillado, as re- 

 freshing as the vintage of favored France, and as 

 grateful as that sherbet which gives sparkle to a Maho- 

 medan's eye. Good friends, that's quite praise enough, 

 albeit the wine was good, and deserving of much enco- 

 mium, but, like all things material, the wine was speed- 

 ily non est — and we'll tell you a truth, when the last gurgle faintly 

 expired on our delected palate, we felt that an entire year must 

 run its course of twelve calender months before the ruby bibula- 

 tion could be renewed. 



Messrs. Norris & Douglass, of Geneva, New York, will please 

 accept our thanks. The wine they sent us we unhesitatingly pro- 

 nounce good. It was manufactured from the Clinton Grape. Un- 

 like Catawba wine, it was heavy, more nearly resembling old 

 port, and equally high flavored. These gentlemen also sent us 

 twenty-two varieties of pears, and four of apples — all good speci- 

 mens of their respective sorts, and give evidence of having re- 

 ceived special cultivation. One variety of pear, labelled the 

 " Adele De St. Denis," proved to be the Beurre Bosc. This is the 



