206 
Old Time Gardens 
“ Pippin ! Pippin ! Paradise ! 
Tell me where my true love lies ! ” 
The seed that remained longest in place indicated 
the favored and favoring lover. 
With the neglect in this country of Saints’ Days 
and the Puritanical frowning down of all folk cus- 
toms connected with them, we lost the delightful was- 
sailing of the Apple trees. This, like many another 
religious observance, was a relic of heathen sacri- 
fice, in this case to Pomona. It was celebrated 
with slight variations in various parts of England ; 
and was called an Apple howling, a wassailing, a 
youling, and other terms. The farmer and his 
workmen carried to the orchard great jugs of cider 
or milk pans filled with cider and roasted apples. 
Encircling in turn the best bearing trees, they drank 
from “clayen-cups,” and poured part of the contents 
on the ground under the trees. And while they 
wassailed the trees they sang: — 
“ Here’s to thee, old Apple tree ! 
Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow. 
And whence thou mayst bear Apples enow! 
Hats full! caps full. 
Bushel — Bushel — sacks full. 
And my pockets full too.” 
Another Devonshire rhyme ran : — 
« 
“ Health to thee, good Apple tree ! 
Well to bear pocket-fulls, hat-fulls, 
Peck-fulls, bushel bag-fulls.” 
The wassailing of the trees gave place in America 
to a jovial autumnal gathering known as an Apple 
