foreword 



A Little Parable About Pruning 



P Figs do not grow upon thistles: neither good fruits upon the " 

 I unpruned tree. He that would have fine flowers, such as are set 

 I before kings, let him apply his shears diligently, sparing not the 

 I old branches, neither the young growth, nor any part that should 

 L be taken away. 



THE long-legged son of farmer Grimes let down the 

 bars, and drove the cattle toward home. 



It was a mellow, belated autumn afternoon, and 

 the green-brown world, flooded with a golden mist of 

 light from the leisurely westerning sun, was good to 

 look upon, and full of dreams. Out of his ragged pocket 

 the boy drew a choice apple which he had been saving 

 for this opportunity to enjoy it uninterruptedly. As he 

 munched he dreamed, as every farmer's boy in a 

 story should, that he would some day go to the city, and 

 live to see famous the name he bore. The apple he 

 devoured was so exceptionally good that instead of 

 lasting him to the barn, as was usually the case, at the 

 end of the lane it was all gone but the core, and that, 

 with a sigh, he tossed over the rail fence. 



Of the five seeds which fell with the core, the imper- 

 tinent little chipmunk who lived in that corner found 

 three. Dead leaves covered the other two ; and the snow 

 drifted over them through the winter; and in the spring 

 they put forth leaves and twigs, and fought for existence 

 with the wild choke-cherries and goldenrod which had 

 taken possession of that spot. 



In good time it came to pass that farmer Grimes, who 

 was a careful husbandman, got around with his axe and 

 bush hook, for he liked it not that brush should grow 

 in his fence corners. 



The first of the little apple trees he cut; and it fell 

 across his boot. Being one who worked with his eyes 



