56 STATE POMOLOQICAL SOCIETY. 



leading fruit growers in the western part of the State, (the Hon. 

 Samuel F. Perley ), he said it was a point he never thought of before; 

 but upon reflection, and looking back upon our old orchards, he 

 thought that might be the case. It is a question that I am not 

 satisfied about, but the more I think of it the nearer I come to 

 being convinced that we should set our trees nearer together. 



Judge Gilbekt. I would like to say a word in regard to the 

 destruction of insects by swine. Gentlemen well understand that 

 the swine is a carnivorous animal, and he will search most indus- 

 triously for insects, destroying the larvas and the insects in a higher 

 state of development when he finds them. And there is no doubt 

 in my mind that the pasturing of swine is the most eifective method 

 of keeping orchards free from insects. 



The President. While this subject is inexhaustible, yet our 

 engagements will not allow of its further consideration at this time. 

 It will be proper, therefore, to lay it aside and give our attention 

 to the concluding subject in this evening's programme, which is 

 an essay 



On Floriculture and Ornamental Gardening, 



BT REV. J. A. VARNEY, OP NORTH TASSALBORO'. 



[Embracing the report of the special committee to award the 

 prize offered by Mr. S. L. Boardman, Editor of the Maine Farmer, 

 of "a silver vase to that woman who shall present to the Society 

 the best original plan for a town or village flower garden, with a 

 list of the plants to be grown in each bed, and accompanied by a 

 description of its management and general culture."] 



How the very spirit of a person of fine feeling and susceptibil- 

 ties loves the beautiful in nature. To him, the murmur of the 

 running brook, as it rolls through some lovely vale, is like 

 whispers from the spirit land, where the dear departed breathe a 

 life of eternal youth. Standing beneath the shade of some forest 

 grove — the long pendant branches form a bright green canopy 

 above him. The gentle breeze comes and touches them — they 

 murmur — and all is still again. There was something in that 

 sound which calmed, and yet amazed him. This is but another of 

 the voices with which nature speaks to the soul. Not as the 

 thunderbolt hurled from the clouds, or the roaring cannon and 

 clash of arms in battle's strife, but so low, and yet so distinct, so 

 sad, and yet so soothing. To the gross and sensual mind it is 

 meaningless, but to him it breathes the very soul of memory, 

 tenderness and love. 



