The Orchard 



gathering sticks half-way up the hill, or a tramp 

 will go slouching by, or, if you have any luck, you 

 may see a lovely lady riding through the trees on 

 a white horse attended by a handsome cavalier. 

 The cavalier is probably the lady's groom : or her 

 grandfather : but no matter : all who pass seem 

 to move from nowhere into nothing, or from the 

 pages of " Grimm's Fairy Tales " into the covers 

 of Perrault, or gentle Madame d'Aulnoy. . . . 

 One thing is certain : you will not be bored. That 

 in any orchard is impossible : in my orchard it 

 were a crime, a crime so horrible as to make the 

 leaves of the trees stand on end and set the birds 

 moulting out of season. 



It were hard to tell whether the orchard is more 

 beautiful in spring or autumn. When the blossoms 

 come, eyes tuned to winter dullness drink their 

 beauty ecstatically, and it is almost well that 

 their life is short and they are soon scattered : but 

 there is rich comfort in watching the ripening ruddy 

 fruit, and, though it is almost the last glory of 

 the pageant of the seasons, all that has gone before 

 has so ripened appreciation that perhaps the 

 greatest joy of all is the joy of harvest : it is the 

 fulfilment of promise, a reality more beautiful than 

 the dream : fulfilment ; contentment, peace. — And 

 the tinge of melancholy in the autumn gives a new 



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