178 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
POMQLOGICAL DEEAM. 
“ I had a dream that was not all a dream.”—B yron. 
A few weeks ago, I had the honor to be ap¬ 
pointed one of the judges of Fruit at a local 
Horticultural Exhibition. Now, as it happened, 
there were nearly two hundred varieties of 
pears, many, or most of which, had to be tested, 
and as America “ expects every man to do his 
duty,” I endeavored to do mine. I tasted and 
ate, and ate and tasted, until I could scarcely 
perceive any difference of flavor between a 
Seckle and a Pound pear. Here let me respect¬ 
fully suggest to the worshipful managers of such 
exhibitions, that they ought to supply the 
judges gratis with olives, or something piquent, 
to sharpen and renovate the palate whenever it 
is required, as after the first dozen or so are 
tasted, the rest may all be classed as ditto, ditto, 
for any sense of taste left in the taster’s mouth. 
After our decision had been duly signed and de¬ 
livered to the proper officer, I returned, “solitary 
and alone to my hotel, and retired to rest about 
ten o’clock, with both head and stomach full of 
pears, and occasional slight symptoms of dys¬ 
pepsia and cholera morbus. After many inef¬ 
fectual efforts to rush “ into the arms of Mor¬ 
pheus,” sundry combats with blood-thirsty 
musquitoes, and abusing old father Noah for not 
putting his finger and thumb on the first pair 
when he had them safely in the ark, I gradually 
fell into a kind of doze, and dreamt not “ that 
I dwelt in marble halls,” but in a large circular 
tent, with a prodigious array of pears piled up 
on plates around me. Pears of all sizes, sexes, 
shapes and colors, were in little and large heaps, 
some shrivelled up like Egyptian mummies, 
some emulating prize pigs in obesity, several 
rather rotton and emitting noxious odors, and 
only a very select few, in a pretty good state of 
preservation. Having had enough of pears for 
one day at least, I thought that I ought to be 
allowed to rest at night, and I endeavored to 
close my eyes to shut out the hateful sight; 
but no ! I could not move an ejmlid—my anx¬ 
ious gaze was actually rivetted upon the detest¬ 
ed fruits. Presently one of the pears appeared 
to move, then another, and yet another. Soon 
(like some of Ovid’s changing forms,) the stems 
began to elongate—to divide, and to form legs. 
The upper part slowly assumed a resemblance 
to the human face, two protuberances, like the 
forelegs of a tadpole, gradually developing them¬ 
selves, and formed arms; in short, in a few mo¬ 
ments every pear had assumed a grotesque 
similitude to the human form divine, and was 
quietly squatted, tailor-fashion, on the plate upon 
which it had been deposited. After carefully 
tying their labels round their necks, somewhat 
after the manner of the bands on the neck of a 
fashionable Episcopal clergyman, they all hopped 
out upon the floor, and formed a circle round a 
diminutive and diseased specimen of a “ Corn- 
stocked” cauliflower, which had been purposely 
thrown on the ground as unfit for use. Order 
having been restored, a rather greenish, small, 
and old-looking pear mounted the cauliflower, 
whilst the rest of the multitude either stood 
around with an easy, nonchalant air, like 
the loungers on the Astor House steps, or 
seated themselves upon some small rotten 
potatoes which had rolled out of a sack. The 
President, for such I took him to be, rapped for 
silence, opened his calyx and commenced, 
“Ladies and Gentlemen, as the oldest pear 
known, I claim this chair, (gracefully pointing 
to the cauliflower,) by virtue of seniority. My 
name, as most of you here present well know, 
(for I recognize many of my own children 
among this motly crowd,) my name, I say 
with pride, is, Autumn Bergamot, my origin is 
said to be Turkish, and my family name derived 
from Beg, Prince Armoud Pear; therefore, as 
the prince pear, I hope none here will object to 
my ocupying this seat of honor. Ladies and 
Gentlemen, it is not often that we are thus 
collected together. This meeting has been 
called for the purpose of having a little pomolo- 
gical gossip, about ourselves and neighbors, 
and as we have not much time to lose, for I see 
several here, (pointing to the French Jargonelle 
and others,) are going very fast, therefore let 
us at once proceed to business. Van Mons. 
Leon lc Clerc, a large and showy, yellowish, 
russety pear, having been appointed secretary, 
a stout foreign pear, in a greenish russet coat, 
with the long name of Beurre gris d’Hiver 
nouveau, attached to his neck, rose and wished 
to know, if the President intended to influence 
their minds against Russia, by his long harangue 
about his Turkish origin and name, “ which 
name, he said, would never do in this repub¬ 
lican country. He also wished to know, 
whether all the Ladies and Gentlemen present 
understood English, for his part he was a 
Frenchman, and scarcely yet much known in 
America, but he had been told that the Duchess 
d’Angouleme d’Orleans, and other foreigners 
of distinction were present, and he very much 
doubted whether they would understand 
English,” (cries of oui, si, ya, yais and yes, from 
several pears.) Here he was interrupted by the 
Fulton, a small and excellent native pear, clad 
in rich russet, who remarked that, “Foreigners 
were now gaining a fearful preponderance in 
this country. The influx of foreign paupers 
and worthless foreign pears at the present time, 
was absolutely alarming. For his part, he did 
not see any use in such long names, and fine 
airs, as were put on by foreigners, when sent 
out of their native country, perhaps,” he added 
with a slight sneer, ‘ for their country’s good,’ 
‘ Beurre gris d’Hiver nouveau,’ as he was pleased 
to call himself, ‘ was nothing more or less than 
Mr. New Gray Winter Buttery, in plain English! 
—he approved of things being called by their 
right names, whatever they were, and that too 
in good English, so that everybody might know 
what to expect, and not compel free-born Ame¬ 
ricans to twist up their mouths with such jaw¬ 
breaking words as Bur-ray Gree, Dee-vair, 
No-vo, (here he mimicked the foreign accent,) 
every time they wanted to speak of his foreign 
friend. Mr. Jalousie de Fontenay Vendee w'as 
also one of the same sort, and many others he 
could mention if he had time.” “A rose by 
any other name would smell as sweet,” he 
added, “but talk to a young city grocer of the 
beautiful green calyx, and dazzling white petal, 
of the Datura Stramonium, and most probably 
he would purchase one, if possible, to present 
to his lady love.” He sat down amidst 
thunders of applause from theDix, Seckle, Lodge, 
and many others of the native American party. 
The Duchess d’Angouleme, a portly old lady, 
in a yellow hoop petticoat, and supported by a 
stick made ol the wood of a quince, now rose 
from her potato, and after giving three taps 
upon the floor to attract attention, asked the 
President if this meeting approved of woman’s 
rights? For her part she considered every 
woman had a right at least to defend herseif 
with her tongue, when and wherever she was 
attacked, for that was her natural weapon. 
Now, she had been grossly insulted, by Mr. St. 
Michaels, alias, Yirgalieu, alias, twenty other 
names, who had been taunting her with the old 
adage of, ‘let every tub stand on its own 
bottom.’ He had said ‘that she was not able to 
do this, but was worthless, if she had not a 
quince stick or stock to support her.’ She des¬ 
pised such insinuations, from an individual who 
had as many aliases, as there w r ere days in a 
month, and who was not known in any two 
cities of the union by the same name. Besides, 
if she could not stand upon her own bottom, he 
was said to be not much better off—every one 
knew he was cracked, and moreover, was always 
liable to be badly cracked when he visited the 
sea coast.” 
Having said this, amidst shouts of approbation 
from the foreigners, she sat down majestically 
on a potato, which was politely handed to her by 
Messire Jean, a small, yellow and russety look¬ 
ing French emigrant. St. Michaels a handsome, 
yellow, medium-sized fellow, clad in a beautiful 
yellow vest, on which some ruby wine had 
been spilled, but with some very unsightly 
scars seaming his otherwise fair face, now rose 
and said that “he had been attacked in his 
tenderest part, and that by a lady. It was 
really too bad! for she had absolutely told him 
to his face, that he was cracked, and he was 
ashamed to have to acknowledge the fact in 
some measure, but,” he added, “ do w r e ever 
expect a cow to give milk without grass or hay, 
and yet, most of the people who complain of 
me, expect that I should yield fruit without a 
particle of food to nourish my famished spon- 
gioles, (here several pears cried hear! hear! how 
can we ever bear fruit without the proper nutri¬ 
ment?) He, (St. Michaels,) could merely 
compare himself again to the cow, when tethered 
by a rope, all the grass within the limited circle 
being eaten, the cow, if not removed, or 
food brought to her, must necessarily starve. 
In like manner, when his roots had consumed 
all the proper food within his limited circle, all 
he could do, was merely to exist, and if proper 
nutriment were not furnished, he must certainly 
die.” (Cries of yes! true! from both foreigners 
and natives.) 
At this stage of the proceedings several 
foreigners, the Duchess d’Angouleme, d’Anjou, 
d’Orleans, Louise bonne de Jersey, and many 
others (it must be confessed, that most of them 
were propped up on quince walking-sticks) with 
several natives, such as the Dix, Lawrence, &e., 
now rose in a body and returned a vote of thanks 
to the inhabitants of Boston, and the vicinity, 
for the invariable kindness and hospitality, with 
which they were always treated when in that 
neighborhood, and it was unanimously resolved, 
that Boston was the paradise (as far as eating, 
drinking and lodging went,) for the pear tribe. 
M. Seckle, a little native quaker pear, in a 
russet coat, with a rich russet crimson cheek, 
sporting a broad-brimmed hat, and bearing an 
undoubted good character, here rose, and said, 
“although he was no enemy to good living, yet 
he approved only of such pears as practised 
abstemiousness, and could live in a farmer’s field 
without much cultivation—for farmers generally 
liked to furnish all their food to the field crops, 
and very high livers would stand but a poor 
chance, where corn and potatoes had to be raised 
—although .now and then they might steal a 
little.” Here, a very large and long green pear 
