THE APPLE. 



Ijo! sweetened with the summer light, 

 The full-juiced apple, waxing o\er-inellow, 

 Drops in a silent autumn night. — Tennyson. 



'Not a little of the sunshine of our northern win* 

 ters is surely wrapped up in the apple. How could 

 we winter over without it ! How is life sweetened by 

 its mild acids! A cellar well filled with apples is 

 more valuable than a chamber filled with flax and 

 wool. So much sound ruddy life to draw upon, to 

 strike one's roots down into, as it were. 



Especially to those whose soil of life is inclined to 

 be a little clayey and heavy, is the apple a winter 

 necessity. It is the natural antidote of most of the 

 ills the flesh is heir to. Full of vegetable acids and 

 aromatics, qualities which act as refrigerants and an- 

 tiseptics, what an enemy it is to jaundice, indigestion 

 torpidity of liver, etc. It is a gentle spur and tonic 

 to the whole biliary system. Then I have read that 

 it has been found by analysis to contain more ph<w 

 phorus than any other vegetable. This makes it the 

 proper food of the scholar and the sedentary man ; it 

 feeds his brain and it stimulates his liver. Nor is 

 this all. Besides its hygienic properties, the apple 

 is fall of susrar and mucilage, which make it highh 

 nutritious. It is said, "The operators of Cornwall, 

 England, consider ripe apples nearly as nourishing as 

 bread, and far more so than potatoes. In the year 

 1801 — which was a year of much scarcity — apples, 



