POMORUM PATRONA 205 



uses. Try the yellow sort hanging yonder Us call 

 'em 'lemons' a sweet apple, I assure J e." 



Thus she spoke, and I walked beside the guardian 

 of the trees, and liked her well for the care she 

 showed towards them. Each was very good to her ; 

 in each she found something to praise, some virtue 

 to waken her gratitude. 



" Wonnerful fruit wonnerful fruit every wheer. 

 They pay for tending wi' liberal thanks, as your 

 eyes may tell 'e, wi'out word of mine. Eat ! Eat ! 

 They'll not harm 'e. They was sent for man to eat, 

 I reckon." 



So spoke in all sincerity the Mother of the Apples. 

 Truth seemed to live in her bright eyes. Sent for 

 man warmed into glowing colours for man kissed 

 into sweetness for him ! What a far-reaching creed 

 hid there ; what a comforting creed could one take 

 it and believe it so. 



We conversed together, and before I went my 

 way there came a gleam of real joy to the eyes of 

 Pomorum Patrona, for I reminded her of a past, now 

 vanished beyond recall, of quaint rites and customs 

 long grown as obsolete as the pagan ceremonials from 

 which they dawned. She remembered how, on the 

 eves of old Christmas days, the lads and lasses, and 

 the aged men, with their bell-mouthed blunderbusses, 

 were wont to christen the orchards, to sing venerable 

 songs, to burn powder under the stars, to wassail 

 each wrinkled patriarch with cider born from his own 

 branches. Slowly and more slowly she moved, and, 



