138 



IN SPRING. 



ous apple-tree. It has more the appearance of 

 the trees in the forest than of those in an or- 

 chard, and if its fruit is not quite so small as that 

 of the wild crab, it is but one remove therefrom. 

 This tree rests its glory upon its blossoms, and 

 well it may ! Upon these go out all its strength, 

 offering, therefore, beauty to the eye, rather than 

 food for the body. It is a tree with a history, 

 perhaps, not worth relating. When set where it 

 n.ow stands, it appears to have been more ex- 

 posed to the wind than its companions and was 

 twice blown clown. When last put back, my 

 grandfather remarked, rather impatiently, " Now 

 stay, at least, if you never bear an apple ! " And 

 the tree stood, still stands. What of the fruit it 

 bears ? Tough, wrinkled as a toad, and sour ; 

 it is said that even the pigs refuse it, squealing 

 in disgust when, by mistake, they crunch it. 

 So, if my grandfather's muttered curse fell upon 

 the fruit, the tree revenged itself by adding 

 beauty to its blossoms, and to-day, though twice 

 hoar-frost has chilled the open buds, if judged 

 by the eye alone, it stands, among a goodly num- 

 ber, brightest of them all. 



