120 



THE APPLE. 



town pipin, or the gentle but sharp-nosed gilliflower. 

 He goes to the great bin in the cellar and sinks his 

 shafts here and there in the garnered wealth of the 

 orchards, mining for his favorites, sometimes coming 

 plump upon them, sometimes catching a glimpse of 

 them to the right or left, or uncovering them as key- 

 stones in an arch made up of many varieties. 



In the dark he can usually tell them by the sense of 

 touch. There is not only the size and shape, but there 

 is the texture and polish. Some apples are coarse- 

 grained and some are fine ; some are thin skinned and 

 some are thick. One variety is quick and vigorous be- 

 neath the touch ; another gentle and yielding. What 

 apple is that with a fat curved stem that blends so 

 prettily with its own flesh, — the wine- apple ? Some 

 varieties impress me as masculine^ — weather-stained, 

 freckled, lasting and rugged \ others are indeed lady 

 apples, fair, delicate, shining, mild-flavored, white- 

 meated, like the wine-apple and lady-finger. The 

 practiced hand knows each kind by the touch. 



Do you remember the apple hole in the garden or 

 back of the house, Ben Bolt? In the fall after the 

 bins in the cellar had been well stocked, we excavated 

 a circular pit in the warm mellow earth and covering 

 the bottom with clean rye straw, emptied in basketful 

 after basketful of hardy choice varieties, till there was 

 a tent-shaped mound several feet high of shining varie- 

 gated fruit. Then wrapping it about with a thick 

 layer of long rye straw, and tucking it up snug and 



