A DAY IN AN OLD ORCHARD. 129 
with a trunk measuring nearly ten feet in circumfer- 
ence and branches of corresponding dimensions; and to 
another near the well that usually yields thirty bushels 
of apples annually. The first of these has an immense 
iron rod holding together its two main branches; the 
other shows here and there a dead limb, notwithstand- 
ing its wonderful yield of fruit. Two other trees, stand- 
ing side by side, so nearly resemble each other in form 
and height as to remind one of that wonderful pair of 
trees representing Baucis and Philemon. They are 
more than fifty feet in height, and lean slightly towards 
each other, and although the whole orchard is of natural 
fruit, that of these two trees is exactly alike in color, 
form and taste. About the middle of May I received 
this message from the proprietor : 
“Come on Friday’and you can then stay over until 
Monday; the trees will be in full bloom, the singing 
birds are thick as bees, and your favorite cat-bird is here 
again this spring. He seems to live by singing just as 
my neighbor’s boy does by whistling. What makes 
lazy boys always whistle their way through the world ? 
There is a nest of young muskrats under the stone 
bridge in the road opposite the house, and the little 
fellows show themselves every morning. A little bird 
resembling the chipping bird in size and color sings in 
the trees in the pasture the most curious quavering 
songs; he is a new-comer, I think, in these parts, but 
you will likely know him. Nearly every night and 
morning a wood thrush sings in one of the large elms 
east of the orchard. We have pure milk, sweet grass 
butter, fresh eggs, and two casks of cider yet untapped 
in the cellar, and I give you the word of an old captain 
that no such cider was ever found in the city. 
“Yours, T. J. K.” 
