THE APPLE. 139 



and you bag it at once. When you were a school- 

 boy you stowed these away in your pockets and ate 

 them along the road and at recess, and again at noon- 

 time ; and they, in a measure, corrected the effects 

 of the cake and pie with which your indulgent mother 

 filled your lunch-basket. 



The boy is indeed the true apple-eater, and is not 

 to be questioned how he came by the fruit with which 

 his pockets are filled. It belongs to him and he may 

 steal it if it cannot be had in any other way. His 

 own juicy flesh craves the juicy flesh of the apple. 

 Sap draws sap. His fruit eating has little reference 

 to the state of his appetite. Whether he be full of 

 meat or empty of meat he wants the apple just the 

 same. Before meal or after meal it never comes 

 amiss. The farm-boy munches apples all day long. 

 He has nests of them in the hay-mow, mellowing, to 

 which he makes frequent visits. Sometimes old 

 Brindle, having access through the open door, smells 

 them out and makes short work of them. 



In some countries the custom remains of placing a 

 i Dsy apple in the hand of the dead that they may 

 find it when they enter paradise. In northern my- 

 thology the giants eat apples to keep off old age. 



The apple is indeed the fruit of youth. As we 

 grow old we crave apples less. It is an ominous 

 sign. When you are ashamed to be seen eating them 

 on the street ; when you can carry them in your 

 pocket and your hand not constantly find its way to 

 them ; when your neighbor has apples and you have 



