83 STATE POMOLOQICAL SOCIETY. 



is in looking at a tliriving tree laden with fruit. It reminds one 

 of the story of Pomona, the goddess of the apple orchard. She 

 cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated country, 

 and trees that bore delicious apples. Her right hand bore not a 

 javelin, but a pruning knife. Armed with this, she busied herself 

 at one time to repress the too luxuriant growth, and curtail the 

 branches that struggled out of place ; at another, to split the twig 

 and insert therein a graft, making it adopt a nursling not its own. 

 She took care, too, that her favorites should not suffer from 

 drought, and led streams of water by them that the thirsty roots 

 might drink. This occupation was her pursuit, her passion. The 

 divinities of the field desired to win her, but Vertumnus loved her 

 best of all. Often in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring to her 

 corn in a basket, and looked the very image of a reaper. With a 

 hay band tied around him, one would think he had just come from 

 turning over the grass. Now he bore a pruning hook and per- 

 sonated a vine-dresser ; and again with a ladder on his shoulder, 

 he seemed as if he was going to gather apples. In this way he 

 gained admission to her presence. One day he came in the guise 

 of an old woman. The old lady entered the garden and admired 

 the fruit. She advised Pomona to leave all her other admirers and 

 accept Vertumnus, for he is young and handsome, and can make 

 himself just what you command him. lie loves the same things 

 that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your apples with 

 admiration. But now he cares nothing for fruit, nor flowers, nor 

 anything else, but only yourself. 



When Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of 

 an old woman and stood before Pomona in his proper person, as a 

 comely youth. It appeared to her like the bursting of sunlight 

 through a cloud. The sight of his true form prevailed, and she 

 accepted him as her own. 



Happy is the man who loves a beautiful apple tree, which his 

 own hand has cherished 1 His name is Vertumnus, and his tree is 

 Pomona. 



The President. Doubtless it would have been agreeable to all 

 present if the speaker who has so closely held your attention this 

 afternoon could have continued until the hour of adjournment, 

 yet perhaps he has done as much this afternoon as we could well 

 ask of him at one time, and we may have an opportunity to hear 

 from him still further before the close of the exercises. 



