128 



THE APPLE. 



times fell. This stimulated her to rub a little harder, 

 when more apples fell. She then took the hint and 

 rubbed her shoulder with such vigor that the farmer 

 had to check her and keep an eye on her to save his 

 fruit. 



But the cow is the friend of the apple. How many 

 trees she has planted about the farm, in the edge of 

 the woods, and in remote fields and pastures. The 

 wild apples, celebrated by Thoreau, are mostly of her 

 planting. She browses them down to be sure, but they 

 are hers, and why should she not ? # 



What an individuality the apple-tree has, each va- 

 riety being nearly as marked by its form as by its fruit. 

 What a vigorous grower, for instance, is the Colvert. 

 Wide branching like the oak, and its large ridgy fruit, 

 in late fall or early winter, is one of my favorites. Or 

 the thick and more pendent top of the bellefiower, 

 with its equally rich, sprightly, uncloying fruit. 



Sweet apples are perhaps the most nutritious, and 

 when baked are a feast of themselves. With a tree of 



e Jersey sweet or of Tolman's sweeting in bearing, 

 no man's table need be devoid of luxuries and one of 

 the most wholesome of all desserts. Or the red as- 

 trachan, an August apple, what a gap may be filled in 

 the culinary department of a household at this season, 

 by a single tree of this fruit ! And what a feast is its 

 shining crimson coat to the eye before its snow-white 

 flesh has reached the tongue. But the apple of apples 

 for the household is the spitzenberg. In this casket 



