An Old-fashioned Orchard. 185 



from the floor to the rafters of the roof, and tliat 

 roof in its pitch, the craft of the woodwork, the (kill 

 polish of the old oak, has an interest far surpassing 

 the dead staring level of flat lath and plaster. Noble 

 workmanship in wood may be found, too, in some of 

 the ancient barns ; sometimes the beams are of black 

 oak, in others of chestnut. 



In these modern days men have lost the pleasures 

 of the orchard ; yet an old-fashioned orchard is the 

 most delicious of places wherein to idle away the 

 afternoon of a hazy autumn da}-, when the sun 

 seems to shine with a soft slumberous warmth with- 

 out glare, as if the rays came through an aerial 

 spider's web spun across the sk}-, letting all the 

 beauty, but not the heat, slip through its invisible 

 meshes. There is a shadowy coolness in the recesses 

 under the trees. On the damson trunks are 3-ellowish 

 cr^'stalline knobs of gum which has exuded from the 

 bark. Now and then a leaf rustles to the ground, 

 and at longer intervals an apple falls with a decided 

 thump. It is silent save for the gentle twittering 

 of the swallows on the topmost branches — they are 

 talking of their coming journey — and perhaps oc- 

 casionally the distant echo of a shot where the lead 

 has gone whistling among a cove}'. It is a place to 

 dream in, bringing with 3^ou a chair to sit on — for 

 it will be freer from insects than the garden seat — 

 and a book. Put away all thought of time : often in 

 striving to get the most value from our time it slips 

 from us as the reality did from the dog that greedily 

 grasped at the shadow : simply dream of what you 

 will, with apples and plums, nuts and filberts within 

 reach. 



