{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_4066/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_4066","id":"gutenberg_4066","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4066","summary":null,"tags":["Apples","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Category: Philosophy & Ethics"],"text":"Wild Apples\n\nby Henry David Thoreau\n\n\nContents\n\n THE HISTORY OF THE APPLE-TREE\n THE WILD APPLE\n THE CRAB\n HOW THE WILD APPLE GROWS\n THE FRUIT, AND ITS FLAVOR\n THEIR BEAUTY\n THE NAMING OF THEM\n THE LAST GLEANING\n THE \u201cFROZEN-THAWED\u201d APPLE\n\n\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF THE APPLE-TREE\n\n\nIt is remarkable how closely the history of the Apple-tree is connected\nwith that of man. The geologist tells us that the order of the\n_Rosace\u00e6_, which includes the Apple, also the true Grasses, and the\n_Labiat\u00e6_, or Mints, were introduced only a short time previous to the\nappearance of man on the globe.\n\nIt appears that apples made a part of the food of that unknown\nprimitive people whose traces have lately been found at the bottom of\nthe Swiss lakes, supposed to be older than the foundation of Rome, so\nold that they had no metallic implements. An entire black and\nshrivelled Crab-Apple has been recovered from their stores.\n\nTacitus says of the ancient Germans that they satisfied their hunger\nwith wild apples, among other things.\n\nNiebuhr[1] observes that \u201cthe words for a house, a field, a plough,\nploughing, wine, oil, milk, sheep, apples, and others relating to\nagriculture and the gentler ways of life, agree in Latin and Greek,\nwhile the Latin words for all objects pertaining to war or the chase\nare utterly alien from the Greek.\u201d Thus the apple-tree may be\nconsidered a symbol of peace no less than the olive.\n\n [1] A German historical critic of ancient life.\n\n\nThe apple was early so important, and so generally distributed, that\nits name traced to its root in many languages signifies fruit in\ngeneral. \u039c\u1fc6\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd (M\u0113lon), in Greek, means an apple, also the fruit of\nother trees, also a sheep and any cattle, and finally riches in\ngeneral.\n\nThe apple-tree has been celebrated by the Hebrews, Greeks, Romans, and\nScandinavians. Some have thought that the first human pair were tempted\nby its fruit. Goddesses are fabled to have contended for it, dragons\nwere set to watch it, and heroes were employed to pluck it.[2]\n\n [2] The Greek myths especially referred to are The Choice of Paris and\n The Apples of the Hesperides.\n\n\nThe tree is mentioned in at least three places in the Old Testament,\nand its fruit in two or three more. Solomon sings, \u201cAs the apple-tree\namong the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons.\u201d And\nagain, \u201cStay me with flagons, comfort me with apples.\u201d The noblest part\nof man\u2019s noblest feature is named from this fruit, \u201cthe apple of the\neye.\u201d\n\nThe apple-tree is also mentioned by Homer and Herodotus. Ulysses saw in\nthe glorious garden of Alcinous \u201cpears and pomegranates and apple-trees\nbearing beautiful fruit.\u201d And according to Homer, apples were among the\nfruits which Tantalus could not pluck, the wind ever blowing their\nboughs away from him. Theophrastus knew and described the apple-tree as\na botanist.\n\nAccording to the prose Edda,[3] \u201cIduna keeps in a box the apples which\nthe gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of to\nbecome young again. It is in this manner that they will be kept in\nrenovated youth until Ragnar\u00f6k\u201d (or the destruction of the Gods).\n\n [3] The stories of the early Scandinavians.\n\n\nI learn from Loudon[4] that \u201cthe ancient Welsh bards were rewarded for\nexcelling in song by the token of the apple-spray;\u201d and \u201cin the\nHighlands of Scotland the apple-tree is the badge of the clan Lamont.\u201d\n\n [4] An English authority on the culture of orchards and gardens.\n\n\nThe apple-tree belongs chiefly to the northern temperate zone. Loudon\nsays, that \u201cit grows spontaneously in every part of Europe except the\nfrigid zone, and throughout Western Asia, China and Japan.\u201d We have\nalso two or three varieties of the apple indigenous in North America.\nThe cultivated apple-tree was first introduced into this country by the\nearliest settlers, and is thought to do as well or better here than\nanywhere else. Probably some of the varieties which are now cultivated\nwere first introduced into Britain by the Romans.\n\nPliny, adopting the distinction of Theophrastus, says, \u201cOf trees there\nare some which are altogether wild, some more civilized.\u201d Theophrastus\nincludes the apple among the last; and, indeed, it is in this sense the\nmost civilized of all trees. It is as harmless as a dove, as beautiful\nas a rose, and as valuable as flocks and herds. It has been longer\ncultivated than any other, and so is more humanized; and who knows but,\nlike the dog, it will at length be no longer traceable to its wild\noriginal? It migrates with man, like the dog and horse and cow; first,\nperchance, from Greece to Italy, thence to England, thence to America;\nand our Western emigrant is still marching steadily toward the setting\nsun with the seeds of the apple in his pocket, or perhaps a few young\ntrees strapped to his load. At least a million apple-trees are thus set\nfarther westward this year than any cultivated ones grew last year.\nConsider how the Blossom-Week, like the Sabbath, is thus annually\nspreading over the prairies; for when man migrates he carries with him\nnot only his birds, quadrupeds, insects, vegetables, and his very\nsward, but his orchard also.\n\nThe leaves and tender twigs are an agreeable food to many domestic\nanimals, as the cow, horse, sheep, and goat; and the fruit is sought\nafter by the first, as well as by the hog. Thus there appears to have\nexisted a natural alliance between these animals and this tree from the\nfirst. \u201cThe fruit of the Crab in the forests of France\u201d is said to be\n\u201ca great resource for the wild boar.\u201d\n\nNot only the Indian, but many indigenous insects, birds, and\nquadrupeds, welcomed the apple-tree to these shores. The\ntent-caterpillar saddled her eggs on the very first twig that was\nformed, and it has since shared her affections with the wild cherry;\nand the canker-worm also in a measure abandoned the elm to feed on it.\nAs it grew apace, the bluebird, robin, cherry-bird, king-bird, and many\nmore, came with haste and built their nests and warbled in its boughs,\nand so became orchard-birds, and multiplied more than ever. It was an\nera in the history of their race. The downy woodpecker found such a\nsavory morsel under its bark, that he perforated it in a ring quite\nround the tree before he left it,\u2014a thing which he had never done\nbefore, to my knowledge. It did not take the partridge long to find out\nhow sweet its buds were, and every winter eve she flew, and still\nflies, from the wood, to pluck them, much to the farmer\u2019s sorrow. The\nrabbit, too, was not slow to learn the taste of its twigs and bark; and\nwhen the fruit was ripe, the squirrel half-rolled, half-carried it to\nhis hole; and even the musquash crept up the bank from the brook at\nevening, and greedily devoured it, until he had worn a path in the\ngrass there; and when it was frozen and thawed, the crow and the jay\nwere glad to taste it occasionally. The owl crept into the first\napple-tree that became hollow, and fairly hooted with delight, finding\nit just the place for him; so, settling down into it, he has remained\nthere ever since.\n\nMy theme being the Wild Apple, I will merely glance at some of the\nseasons in the annual growth of the cultivated apple, and pass on to my\nspecial province.\n\nThe flowers of the apple are perhaps the most beautiful of any tree, so\ncopious and so delicious to both sight and scent. The walker is\nfrequently tempted to turn and linger near some more than usually\nhandsome one, whose blossoms are two thirds expanded. How superior it\nis in these respects to the pear, whose blossoms are neither colored\nnor fragrant!\n\nBy the middle of July, green apples are so large as to remind us of\ncoddling, and of the autumn. The sward is commonly strewed with little\nones which fall still-born, as it were,\u2014Nature thus thinning them for\nus. The Roman writer Palladius said: \u201cIf apples are inclined to fall\nbefore their time, a stone placed in a split root will retain them.\u201d\nSome such notion, still surviving, may account for some of the stones\nwhich we see placed to be overgrown in the forks of trees. They have a\nsaying in Suffolk, England,\u2014\n\n\u201cAt Michaelmas time, or a little before,\nHalf an apple goes to the core.\u201d\n\n\nEarly apples begin to be ripe about the first of August; but I think\nthat none of them are so good to eat as some to smell. One is worth\nmore to scent your handkerchief with than any perfume which they sell\nin the shops. The fragrance of some fruits is not to be forgotten,\nalong with that of flowers. Some gnarly apple which I pick up in the\nroad reminds me by its fragrance of all the wealth of\nPomona,[5]\u2014carrying me forward to those days when they will be\ncollected in golden and ruddy heaps in the orchards and about the\ncider-mills.\n\n [5] The Roman goddess of fruit and fruit-trees.\n\n\nA week or two later, as you are going by orchards or gardens,\nespecially in the evenings, you pass through a little region possessed\nby the fragrance of ripe apples, and thus enjoy them without price, and\nwithout robbing anybody.\n\nThere is thus about all natural products a certain volatile and\nethereal quality which represents their highest value, and which cannot\nbe vulgarized, or bought and sold. No mortal has ever enjoyed the\nperfect flavor of any fruit, and only the godlike among men begin to\ntaste its ambrosial qualities. For nectar and ambrosia are only those\nfine flavors of every earthly fruit which our coarse palates fail to\nperceive,\u2014just as we occupy the heaven of the gods without knowing it.\nWhen I see a particularly mean man carrying a load of fair and fragrant\nearly apples to market, I seem to see a contest going on between him\nand his horse, on the one side, and the apples on the other, and, to my\nmind, the apples always gain it. Pliny says that apples are the\nheaviest of all things, and that the oxen begin to sweat at the mere\nsight of a load of them. Our driver begins to lose his load the moment\nhe tries to transport them to where they do not belong, that is, to any\nbut the most beautiful. Though he gets out from time to time, and feels\nof them, and thinks they are all there, I see the stream of their\nevanescent and celestial qualities going to heaven from his cart, while\nthe pulp and skin and core only are going to market. They are not\napples, but pomace. Are not these still Iduna\u2019s apples, the taste of\nwhich keeps the gods forever young? and think you that they will let\nLoki or Thjassi carry them off to J\u00f6tunheim,[6] while they grow\nwrinkled and gray? No, for Ragnar\u00f6k, or the destruction of the gods, is\nnot yet.\n\n [6] J\u00f6tunheim (_Ye_(r)_t\u2032-un-hime_) in Scandinavian mythology was the\n home of the Jotun or Giants. Loki was a descendant of the gods, and a\n companion of the Giants. Thjassi (_Tee-assy_) was a giant.\n\n\nThere is another thinning of the fruit, commonly near the end of August\nor in September, when the ground is strewn with windfalls; and this\nhappens especially when high winds occur after rain. In some orchards\nyou may see fully three quarters of the whole crop on the ground, lying\nin a circular form beneath the trees, yet hard and green,\u2014or, if it is\na hillside, rolled far down the hill. However, it is an ill wind that\nblows nobody any good. All the country over, people are busy picking up\nthe windfalls, and this will make them cheap for early apple-pies.\n\nIn October, the leaves falling, the apples are more distinct on the\ntrees. I saw one year in a neighboring town some trees fuller of fruit\nthan I remember to have ever seen before, small yellow apples hanging\nover the road. The branches were gracefully drooping with their weight,\nlike a barberry-bush, so that the whole tree acquired a new character.\nEven the topmost branches, instead of standing erect, spread and\ndrooped in all directions; and there were so many poles supporting the\nlower ones, that they looked like pictures of banian-trees. As an old\nEnglish manuscript says, \u201cThe mo appelen the tree bereth the more sche\nboweth to the folk.\u201d\n\nSurely the apple is the noblest of fruits. Let the most beautiful or\nthe swiftest have it. That should be the \u201cgoing\u201d price of apples.\n\nBetween the fifth and twentieth of October I see the barrels lie under\nthe trees. And perhaps I talk with one who is selecting some choice\nbarrels to fulfil an order. He turns a specked one over many times\nbefore he leaves it out. If I were to tell what is passing in my mind,\nI should say that every one was specked which he had handled; for he\nrubs off all the bloom, and those fugacious ethereal qualities leave\nit. Cool evenings prompt the farmers to make haste, and at length I see\nonly the ladders here and there left leaning against the trees.\n\nIt would be well if we accepted these gifts with more joy and\ngratitude, and did not think it enough simply to put a fresh load of\ncompost about the tree. Some old English customs are suggestive at\nleast. I find them described chiefly in Brand\u2019s \u201cPopular Antiquities.\u201d\nIt appears that \u201con Christmas eve the farmers and their men in\nDevonshire take a large bowl of cider, with a toast in it, and carrying\nit in state to the orchard, they salute the apple-trees with much\nceremony, in order to make them bear well the next season.\u201d This\nsalutation consists in \u201cthrowing some of the cider about the roots of\nthe tree, placing bits of the toast on the branches,\u201d and then,\n\u201cencircling one of the best bearing trees in the orchard, they drink\nthe following toast three several times:\u2014\n\n        \u201c\u2018Here\u2019s to thee, old apple-tree,\nWhence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow,\nAnd whence thou mayst bear apples enow!\n        Hats-full! caps-full!\n        Bushel, bushel, sacks-full!\n        And my pockets full, too! Hurra!\u2019\u201d\n\n\nAlso what was called \u201capple-howling\u201d used to be practised in various\ncounties of England on New-Year\u2019s eve. A troop of boys visited the\ndifferent orchards, and, encircling the apple-trees, repeated the\nfollowing words:\u2014\n\n\u201cStand fast, root! bear well, top!\nPray God send us a good howling crop:\nEvery twig, apples big;\nEvery bow, apples enow!\u201d\n\n\n\u201cThey then shout in chorus, one of the boys accompanying them on a\ncow\u2019s horn. During this ceremony they rap the trees with their sticks.\u201d\nThis is called \u201cwassailing\u201d the trees, and is thought by some to be \u201ca\nrelic of the heathen sacrifice to Pomona.\u201d\n\nHerrick sings,\u2014\n\n\u201cWassaile the trees that they may beare\nYou many a plum and many a peare;\nFor more or less fruits they will bring\nAs you so give them wassailing.\u201d\n\n\nOur poets have as yet a better right to sing of cider than of wine; but\nit behooves them to sing better than English Phillips did, else they\nwill do no credit to their Muse.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILD APPLE\n\n\nSo much for the more civilized apple-trees (_urbaniores_, as Pliny\ncalls them). I love better to go through the old orchards of ungrafted\napple-trees, at whatever season of the year,\u2014so irregularly planted:\nsometimes two trees standing close together; and the rows so devious\nthat you would think that they not only had grown while the owner was\nsleeping, but had been set out by him in a somnambulic state. The rows\nof grafted fruit will never tempt me to wander amid them like these.\nBut I now, alas, speak rather from memory than from any recent\nexperience, such ravages have been made!\n\nSome soils, like a rocky tract called the Easterbrooks Country in my\nneighborhood, are so suited to the apple, that it will grow faster in\nthem without any care, or if only the ground is broken up once a year,\nthan it will in many places with any amount of care. The owners of this\ntract allow that the soil is excellent for fruit, but they say that it\nis so rocky that they have not patience to plough it, and that,\ntogether with the distance, is the reason why it is not cultivated.\nThere are, or were recently, extensive orchards there standing without\norder. Nay, they spring up wild and bear well there in the midst of\npines, birches, maples, and oaks. I am often surprised to see rising\namid these trees the rounded tops of apple-trees glowing with red or\nyellow fruit, in harmony with the autumnal tints of the forest.\n\nGoing up the side of a cliff about the first of November, I saw a\nvigorous young apple-tree, which, planted by birds or cows, had shot up\namid the rocks and open woods there, and had now much fruit on it,\nuninjured by the frosts, when all cultivated apples were gathered. It\nwas a rank wild growth, with many green leaves on it still, and made an\nimpression of thorniness. The fruit was hard and green, but looked as\nif it would be palatable in the winter. Some was dangling on the twigs,\nbut more half-buried in the wet leaves under the tree, or rolled far\ndown the hill amid the rocks. The owner knows nothing of it. The day\nwas not observed when it first blossomed, nor when it first bore fruit,\nunless by the chickadee. There was no dancing on the green beneath it\nin its honor, and now there is no hand to pluck its fruit,\u2014which is\nonly gnawed by squirrels, as I perceive. It has done double duty,\u2014not\nonly borne this crop, but each twig has grown a foot into the air. And\nthis is _such_ fruit! bigger than many berries, we must admit, and\ncarried home will be sound and palatable next spring. What care I for\nIduna\u2019s apples so long as I can get these?\n\nWhen I go by this shrub thus late and hardy, and see its dangling\nfruit, I respect the tree, and I am grateful for Nature\u2019s bounty, even\nthough I cannot eat it. Here on this rugged and woody hillside has\ngrown an apple-tree, not planted by man, no relic of a former orchard,\nbut a natural growth, like the pines and oaks. Most fruits which we\nprize and use depend entirely on our care. Corn and grain, potatoes,\npeaches, melons, etc., depend altogether on our planting; but the apple\nemulates man\u2019s independence and enterprise. It is not simply carried,\nas I have said, but, like him, to some extent, it has migrated to this\nNew World, and is even, here and there, making its way amid the\naboriginal trees; just as the ox and dog and horse sometimes run wild\nand maintain themselves.\n\nEven the sourest and crabbedest apple, growing in the most unfavorable\nposition, suggests such thoughts as these, it is so noble a fruit.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRAB\n\n\nNevertheless, _our_ wild apple is wild only like myself, perchance, who\nbelong not to the aboriginal race here, but have strayed into the woods\nfrom the cultivated stock. Wilder still, as I have said, there grows\nelsewhere in this country a native and aboriginal Crab-Apple, \u201cwhose\nnature has not yet been modified by cultivation.\u201d It is found from\nWestern New York to Minnesota and southward. Michaux[7] says that its\nordinary height \u201cis fifteen or eighteen feet, but it is sometimes found\ntwenty-five or thirty feet high,\u201d and that the large ones \u201cexactly\nresemble the common apple-tree.\u201d \u201cThe flowers are white mingled with\nrose-color, and are collected in corymbs.\u201d They are remarkable for\ntheir delicious odor. The fruit, according to him, is about an inch and\na half in diameter, and is intensely acid. Yet they make fine\nsweet-meats, and also cider of them. He concludes, that \u201cif, on being\ncultivated, it does not yield new and palatable varieties, it will at\nleast be celebrated for the beauty of its flowers, and for the\nsweetness of its perfume.\u201d\n\n [7] Pronounced _mee-sh\u014d;_ a French botanist and traveller.\n\n\nI never saw the Crab-Apple till May, 1861. I had heard of it through\nMichaux, but more modern botanists, so far as I know, have not treated\nit as of any peculiar importance. Thus it was a half-fabulous tree to\nme. I contemplated a pilgrimage to the \u201cGlades,\u201d a portion of\nPennsylvania, where it was said to grow to perfection. I thought of\nsending to a nursery for it, but doubted if they had it, or would\ndistinguish it from European varieties. At last I had occasion to go to\nMinnesota, and on entering Michigan I began to notice from the cars a\ntree with handsome rose-colored flowers. At first I thought it some\nvariety of thorn; but it was not long before the truth flashed on me,\nthat this was my long-sought Crab-Apple. It was the prevailing\nflowering shrub or tree to be seen from the cars at that season of the\nyear,\u2014about the middle of May. But the cars never stopped before one,\nand so I was launched on the bosom of the Mississippi without having\ntouched one, experiencing the fate of Tantalus. On arriving at St.\nAnthony\u2019s Falls, I was sorry to be told that I was too far north for\nthe Crab-Apple. Nevertheless I succeeded in finding it about eight\nmiles west of the Falls; touched it and smelled it, and secured a\nlingering corymb of flowers for my herbarium. This must have been near\nits northern limit.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE WILD APPLE GROWS\n\n\nBut though these are indigenous, like the Indians, I doubt whether they\nare any hardier than those back-woodsmen among the apple-trees, which,\nthough descended from cultivated stocks, plant themselves in distant\nfields and forests, where the soil is favorable to them. I know of no\ntrees which have more difficulties to contend with, and which more\nsturdily resist their foes. These are the ones whose story we have to\ntell. It oftentimes reads thus:\u2014\n\nNear the beginning of May, we notice little thickets of apple-trees\njust springing up in the pastures where cattle have been,\u2014as the rocky\nones of our Easter-brooks Country, or the top of Nobscot Hill in\nSudbury. One or two of these perhaps survive the drought and other\naccidents,\u2014their very birthplace defending them against the encroaching\ngrass and some other dangers, at first.\n\nIn two years\u2019 time \u2019t had thus\n    Reached the level of the rocks,\nAdmired the stretching world,\n    Nor feared the wandering flocks.\n\nBut at this tender age\n    Its sufferings began:\nThere came a browsing ox\n    And cut it down a span.\n\n\nThis time, perhaps, the ox does not notice it amid the grass; but the\nnext year, when it has grown more stout, he recognizes it for a\nfellow-emigrant from the old country, the flavor of whose leaves and\ntwigs he well knows; and though at first he pauses to welcome it, and\nexpress his surprise, and gets for answer, \u201cThe same cause that brought\nyou here brought me,\u201d he nevertheless browses it again, reflecting, it\nmay be, that he has some title to it.\n\nThus cut down annually, it does not despair; but, putting forth two\nshort twigs for every one cut off, it spreads out low along the ground\nin the hollows or between the rocks, growing more stout and scrubby,\nuntil it forms, not a tree as yet, but a little pyramidal, stiff,\ntwiggy mass, almost as solid and impenetrable as a rock. Some of the\ndensest and most impenetrable clumps of bushes that I have ever seen,\nas well, on account of the closeness and stubbornness of their branches\nas of their thorns, have been these wild-apple scrubs. They are more\nlike the scrubby fir and black spruce on which you stand, and sometimes\nwalk, on the tops of mountains, where cold is the demon they contend\nwith, than anything else. No wonder they are prompted to grow thorns at\nlast, to defend themselves against such foes. In their thorniness,\nhowever, there is no malice, only some malic acid.\n\nThe rocky pastures of the tract I have referred to\u2014for they maintain\ntheir ground best in a rocky field\u2014are thickly sprinkled with these\nlittle tufts, reminding you often of some rigid gray mosses or lichens,\nand you see thousands of little trees just springing up between them,\nwith the seed still attached to them.\n\nBeing regularly clipped all around each year by the cows, as a hedge\nwith shears, they are often of a perfect conical or pyramidal form,\nfrom one to four feet high, and more or less sharp, as if trimmed by\nthe gardener\u2019s art. In the pastures on Nobscot Hill and its spurs they\nmake fine dark shadows when the sun is low. They are also an excellent\ncovert from hawks for many small birds that roost and build in them.\nWhole flocks perch in them at night, and I have seen three robins\u2019\nnests in one which was six feet in diameter.\n\nNo doubt many of these are already old trees, if you reckon from the\nday they were planted, but infants still when you consider their\ndevelopment and the long life before them. I counted the annual rings\nof some which were just one foot high, and as wide as high, and found\nthat they were about twelve years old, but quite sound and thrifty!\nThey were so low that they were unnoticed by the walker, while many of\ntheir contemporaries from the nurseries were already bearing\nconsiderable crops. But what you gain in time is perhaps in this case,\ntoo, lost in power,\u2014that is, in the vigor of the tree. This is their\npyramidal state.\n\nThe cows continue to browse them thus for twenty years or more, keeping\nthem down and compelling them to spread, until at last they are so\nbroad that they become their own fence, when some interior shoot, which\ntheir foes cannot reach, darts upward with joy: for it has not\nforgotten its high calling, and bears its own peculiar fruit in\ntriumph.\n\nSuch are the tactics by which it finally defeats its bovine foes. Now,\nif you have watched the progress of a particular shrub, you will see\nthat it is no longer a simple pyramid or cone, but out of its apex\nthere rises a sprig or two, growing more lustily perchance than an\norchard-tree, since the plant now devotes the whole of its repressed\nenergy to these upright parts. In a short time these become a small\ntree, an inverted pyramid resting on the apex of the other, so that the\nwhole has now the form of a vast hour-glass. The spreading bottom,\nhaving served its purpose, finally disappears, and the generous tree\npermits the now harmless cows to come in and stand in its shade, and\nrub against and redden its trunk, which has grown in spite of them, and\neven to taste a part of its fruit, and so disperse the seed.\n\nThus the cows create their own shade and food; and the tree, its\nhour-glass being inverted, lives a second life, as it were.\n\nIt is an important question with some nowadays, whether you should trim\nyoung apple-trees as high as your nose or as high as your eyes. The ox\ntrims them up as high as he can reach, and that is about the right\nheight, I think.\n\nIn spite of wandering kine and other adverse circumstance, that\ndespised shrub, valued only by small birds as a covert and shelter from\nhawks, has its blossom-week at last, and in course of time its harvest,\nsincere, though small.\n\nBy the end of some October, when its leaves have fallen, I frequently\nsee such a central sprig, whose progress I have watched, when I thought\nit had forgotten its destiny, as I had, bearing its first crop of small\ngreen or yellow or rosy fruit, which the cows cannot get at over the\nbushy and thorny hedge which surrounds it; and I make haste to taste\nthe new and undescribed variety. We have all heard of the numerous\nvarieties of fruit invented by Van Mons[8] and Knight.[9] This is the\nsystem of Van Cow, and she has invented far more and more memorable\nvarieties than both of them.\n\n [8] A Belgian chemist and horticulturist.\n\n\n [9] An English vegetable physiologist.\n\n\nThrough what hardships it may attain to bear a sweet fruit! Though\nsomewhat small, it may prove equal, if not superior, in flavor to that\nwhich has grown in a garden,\u2014will perchance be all the sweeter and more\npalatable for the very difficulties it has had to contend with. Who\nknows but this chance wild fruit, planted by a cow or a bird on some\nremote and rocky hillside, where it is as yet unobserved by man, may be\nthe choicest of all its kind, and foreign potentates shall hear of it,\nand royal societies seek to propagate it, though the virtues of the\nperhaps truly crabbed owner of the soil may never be heard of,\u2014at\nleast, beyond the limits of his village? It was thus the Porter and the\nBaldwin grew.\n\nEvery wild-apple shrub excites our expectation thus, somewhat as every\nwild child. It is, perhaps, a prince in disguise. What a lesson to man!\nSo are human beings, referred to the highest standard, the celestial\nfruit which they suggest and aspire to bear, browsed on by fate; and\nonly the most persistent and strongest genius defends itself and\nprevails, sends a tender scion upward at last, and drops its perfect\nfruit on the ungrateful earth. Poets and philosophers and statesmen\nthus spring up in the country pastures, and outlast the hosts of\nunoriginal men.\n\nSuch is always the pursuit of knowledge. The celestial fruits, the\ngolden apples of the Hesperides, are ever guarded by a hundred-headed\ndragon which never sleeps, so that it is an herculean labor to pluck\nthem.\n\nThis is one and the most remarkable way in which the wild apple is\npropagated; but commonly it springs up at wide intervals in woods and\nswamps, and by the sides of roads, as the soil may suit it, and grows\nwith comparative rapidity. Those which grow in dense woods are very\ntall and slender. I frequently pluck from these trees a perfectly mild\nand tamed fruit. As Palladius says, \u201cAnd the ground is strewn with the\nfruit of an unbidden apple-tree.\u201d\n\nIt is an old notion, that, if these wild trees do not bear a valuable\nfruit of their own, they are the best stocks by which to transmit to\nposterity the most highly prized qualities of others. However, I am not\nin search of stocks, but the wild fruit itself, whose fierce gust has\nsuffered no \u201cinteneration.\u201d It is not my\n\n    \u201chighest plot\nTo plant the Bergamot.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE FRUIT, AND ITS FLAVOR\n\n\nThe time for wild apples is the last of October and the first of\nNovember. They then get to be palatable, for they ripen late, and they\nare still, perhaps, as beautiful as ever. I make a great account of\nthese fruits, which the farmers do not think it worth the while to\ngather,\u2014wild flavors of the Muse, vivacious and inspiriting. The farmer\nthinks that he has better in his barrels; but he is mistaken, unless he\nhas a walker\u2019s appetite and imagination, neither of which can he have.\n\nSuch as grow quite wild, and are left out till the first of November, I\npresume that the owner does not mean to gather. They belong to children\nas wild as themselves,\u2014to certain active boys that I know,\u2014to the\nwild-eyed woman of the fields, to whom nothing comes amiss, who gleans\nafter all the world,\u2014and, moreover, to us walkers. We have met with\nthem, and they are ours. These rights, long enough insisted upon, have\ncome to be an institution in some old countries, where they have\nlearned how to live. I hear that \u201cthe custom of grippling, which may be\ncalled apple-gleaning, is, or was formerly, practised in Herefordshire.\nIt consists in leaving a few apples, which are called the gripples, on\nevery tree, after the general gathering, for the boys, who go with\nclimbing-poles and bags to collect them.\u201d\n\nAs for those I speak of, I pluck them as a wild fruit, native to this\nquarter of the earth,\u2014fruit of old trees that have been dying ever\nsince I was a boy and are not yet dead, frequented only by the\nwood-pecker and the squirrel, deserted now by the owner, who has not\nfaith enough to look under their boughs. From the appearance of the\ntree-top, at a little distance, you would expect nothing but lichens to\ndrop from it, but your faith is rewarded by finding the ground strewn\nwith spirited fruit,\u2014some of it, perhaps, collected at squirrel-holes,\nwith the marks of their teeth by which they carried them,\u2014some\ncontaining a cricket or two silently feeding within, and some,\nespecially in damp days, a shelless snail. The very sticks and stones\nlodged in the tree-top might have convinced you of the savoriness of\nthe fruit which has been so eagerly sought after in past years.\n\nI have seen no account of these among the \u201cFruits and Fruit-Trees of\nAmerica,\u201d though they are more memorable to my taste than the grafted\nkinds; more racy and wild American flavors do they possess, when\nOctober and November, when December and January, and perhaps February\nand March even, have assuaged them somewhat. An old farmer in my\nneighborhood, who always selects the right word, says that \u201cthey have a\nkind of bow-arrow tang.\u201d\n\nApples for grafting appear to have been selected commonly, not so much\nfor their spirited flavor, as for their mildness, their size, and\nbearing qualities,\u2014not so much for their beauty, as for their fairness\nand soundness. Indeed, I have no faith in the selected lists of\npomological gentlemen. Their \u201cFavorites\u201d and \u201cNon-suches\u201d and\n\u201cSeek-no-farthers,\u201d when I have fruited them, commonly turn out very\ntame and forgetable. They are eaten with comparatively little zest, and\nhave no real _tang_ nor _smack_ to them.\n\nWhat if some of these wildings are acrid and puckery, genuine\n_verjuice_, do they not still belong to the _Pomace\u00e6_, which are\nuniformly innocent and kind to our race? I still begrudge them to the\ncider-mill. Perhaps they are not fairly ripe yet.\n\nNo wonder that these small and high-colored apples are thought to make\nthe best cider. Loudon quotes from the Herefordshire Report that\n\u201capples of a small size are always, if equal in quality, to be\npreferred to those of a larger size, in order that the rind and kernel\nmay bear the greatest proportion to the pulp, which affords the weakest\nand most watery juice.\u201d And he says, that, \u201cto prove this, Dr. Symonds\nof Hereford, about the year 1800, made one hogshead of cider entirely\nfrom the rinds and cores of apples, and another from the pulp only,\nwhen the first was found of extraordinary strength and flavor, while\nthe latter was sweet and insipid.\u201d\n\nEvelyn[10] says that the \u201cRed-strake\u201d was the favorite cider-apple in\nhis day; and he quotes one Dr. Newburg as saying, \u201cIn Jersey \u2019t is a\ngeneral observation, as I hear, that the more of red any apple has in\nits rind, the more proper it is for this use. Pale-faced apples they\nexclude as much as may be from their cider-vat.\u201d This opinion still\nprevails.\n\n [10] An English writer of the seventeenth century.\n\n\nAll apples are good in November. Those which the farmer leaves out as\nunsalable, and unpalatable to those who frequent the markets, are\nchoicest fruit to the walker. But it is remarkable that the wild apple,\nwhich I praise as so spirited and racy when eaten in the fields or\nwoods, being brought into the house, has frequently a harsh and crabbed\ntaste. The Saunter-er\u2019s Apple not even the saunterer can eat in the\nhouse. The palate rejects it there, as it does haws and acorns, and\ndemands a tamed one; for there you miss the November air, which is the\nsauce it is to be eaten with. Accordingly, when Tityrus, seeing the\nlengthening shadows, invites Melib\u0153us to go home and pass the night\nwith him, he promises him _mild_ apples and soft chestnuts. I\nfrequently pluck wild apples of so rich and spicy a flavor that I\nwonder all orchardists do not get a scion from that tree, and I fail\nnot to bring home my pockets full. But perchance, when I take one out\nof my desk and taste it in my chamber I find it unexpectedly\ncrude,\u2014sour enough to set a squirrel\u2019s teeth on edge and make a jay\nscream.\n\nThese apples have hung in the wind and frost and rain till they have\nabsorbed the qualities of the weather or season, and thus are highly\n_seasoned_, and they _pierce_ and _sting_ and _permeate_ us with their\nspirit. They must be eaten in _season_, accordingly,\u2014that is,\nout-of-doors.\n\nTo appreciate the wild and sharp flavors of these October fruits, it is\nnecessary that you be breathing the sharp October or November air. The\nout-door air and exercise which the walker gets give a different tone\nto his palate, and he craves a fruit which the sedentary would call\nharsh and crabbed. They must be eaten in the fields, when your system\nis all aglow with exercise, when the frosty weather nips your fingers,\nthe wind rattles the bare boughs or rustles the few remaining leaves,\nand the jay is heard screaming around. What is sour in the house a\nbracing walk makes sweet. Some of these apples might be labelled, \u201cTo\nbe eaten in the wind.\u201d\n\nOf course no flavors are thrown away; they are intended for the taste\nthat is up to them. Some apples have two distinct flavors, and perhaps\none-half of them must be eaten in the house, the other out-doors. One\nPeter Whitney wrote from Northborough in 1782, for the Proceedings of\nthe Boston Academy, describing an apple-tree in that town \u201cproducing\nfruit of opposite qualities, part of the same apple being frequently\nsour and the other sweet;\u201d also some all sour, and others all sweet,\nand this diversity on all parts of the tree.\n\nThere is a wild apple on Nawshawtuck Hill in my town which has to me a\npeculiarly pleasant bitter tang, not perceived till it is\nthree-quarters tasted. It remains on the tongue. As you eat it, it\nsmells exactly like a squash-bug. It is a sort of triumph to eat and\nrelish it.\n\nI hear that the fruit of a kind of plum-tree in Provence is \u201ccalled\n_Prunes sibarelles_, because it is impossible to whistle after having\neaten them, from their sourness.\u201d But perhaps they were only eaten in\nthe house and in summer, and if tried out-of-doors in a stinging\natmosphere, who knows but you could whistle an octave higher and\nclearer?\n\nIn the fields only are the sours and bitters of Nature appreciated;\njust as the wood-chopper eats his meal in a sunny glade, in the middle\nof a winter day, with content, basks in a sunny ray there, and dreams\nof summer in a degree of cold which, experienced in a chamber, would\nmake a student miserable. They who are at work abroad are not cold, but\nrather it is they who sit shivering in houses. As with temperatures, so\nwith flavors; as with cold and heat, so with sour and sweet. This\nnatural raciness, the sours and bitters which the diseased palate\nrefuses, are the true condiments.\n\nLet your condiments be in the condition of your senses. To appreciate\nthe flavor of these wild apples requires vigorous and healthy senses,\n_papill\u00e6_[11] firm and erect on the tongue and palate, not easily\nflattened and tamed.\n\n [11] A Latin word, accent on the second syllable, meaning here the\n rough surface of the tongue and palate.\n\n\nFrom my experience with wild apples, I can understand that there may be\nreason for a savage\u2019s preferring many kinds of food which the civilized\nman rejects. The former has the palate of an outdoor man. It takes a\nsavage or wild taste to appreciate a wild fruit.\n\nWhat a healthy out-of-door appetite it takes to relish the apple of\nlife, the apple of the world, then!\n\n\u201cNor is it every apple I desire,\n    Nor that which pleases every palate best;\n\u2019T is not the lasting Deuxan I require,\n    Nor yet the red-cheeked Greening I request,\nNor that which first beshrewed the name of wife,\nNor that whose beauty caused the golden strife:\nNo, no! bring me an apple from the tree of life.\u201d\n\n\nSo there is one _thought_ for the field, another for the house. I would\nhave my thoughts, like wild apples, to be food for walkers, and will\nnot warrant them to be palatable, if tasted in the house.\n\n\n\n\nTHEIR BEAUTY\n\n\nAlmost all wild apples are handsome. They cannot be too gnarly and\ncrabbed and rusty to look at. The gnarliest will have some redeeming\ntraits even to the eye. You will discover some evening redness dashed\nor sprinkled on some protuberance or in some cavity. It is rare that\nthe summer lets an apple go without streaking or spotting it on some\npart of its sphere. It will have some red stains, commemorating the\nmornings and evenings it has witnessed; some dark and rusty blotches,\nin memory of the clouds and foggy, mildewy days that have passed over\nit; and a spacious field of green reflecting the general face of\nNature,\u2014green even as the fields; or a yellow ground, which implies a\nmilder flavor,\u2014yellow as the harvest, or russet as the hills.\n\nApples, these I mean, unspeakably fair,\u2014apples not of Discord, but\nConcord! Yet not so rare but that the homeliest may have a share.\nPainted by the frosts, some a uniform clear bright yellow, or red, or\ncrimson, as if their spheres had regularly revolved, and enjoyed the\ninfluence of the sun on all sides alike,\u2014some with the faintest pink\nblush imaginable,\u2014some brindled with deep red streaks like a cow, or\nwith hundreds of fine blood-red rays running regularly from the\nstem-dimple to the blossom-end, like meridional lines, on a\nstraw-colored ground,\u2014some touched with a greenish rust, like a fine\nlichen, here and there, with crimson blotches or eyes more or less\nconfluent and fiery when wet,\u2014and others gnarly, and freckled or\npeppered all over on the stem side with fine crimson spots on a white\nground, as if accidentally sprinkled from the brush of Him who paints\nthe autumn leaves. Others, again, are sometimes red inside, perfused\nwith a beautiful blush, fairy food, too beautiful to eat,\u2014apple of the\nHesperides, apple of the evening sky! But like shells and pebbles on\nthe sea-shore, they must be seen as they sparkle amid the withering\nleaves in some dell in the woods, in the autumnal air, or as they lie\nin the wet grass, and not when they have wilted and faded in the house.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAMING OF THEM\n\n\nIt would be a pleasant pastime to find suitable names for the hundred\nvarieties which go to a single heap at the cider-mill. Would it not tax\na man\u2019s invention,\u2014no one to be named after a man, and all in the\n_lingua vernacula?_[12] Who shall stand god-father at the christening\nof the wild apples? It would exhaust the Latin and Greek languages, if\nthey were used, and make the _lingua vernacula_ flag. We should have to\ncall in the sunrise and the sunset, the rainbow and the autumn woods\nand the wild flowers, and the woodpecker and the purple finch, and the\nsquirrel and the jay and the butterfly, the November traveller and the\ntruant boy, to our aid.\n\n [12] _Lingua vernacula_, common speech.\n\n\nIn 1836 there were in the garden of the London Horticultural Society\nmore than fourteen hundred distinct sorts. But here are species which\nthey have not in their catalogue, not to mention the varieties which\nour Crab might yield to cultivation. Let us enumerate a few of these. I\nfind myself compelled, after all, to give the Latin names of some for\nthe benefit of those who live where English is not spoken,\u2014for they are\nlikely to have a world-wide reputation.\n\nThere is, first of all, the Wood-Apple (_Malus sylvatica_); the\nBlue-Jay Apple; the Apple which grows in Dells in the Woods\n(_sylvestrivallis_), also in Hollows in Pastures (_campestrivallis_);\nthe Apple that grows in an old Cellar-Hole (_Malus cellaris_); the\nMeadow-Apple; the Partridge-Apple; the Truant\u2019s Apple (_Cessatoris_),\nwhich no boy will ever go by without knocking off some, however _late_\nit may be; the Saunterer\u2019s Apple,\u2014you must lose yourself before you can\nfind the way to that; the Beauty of the Air (_Decus A\u00ebris_);\nDecember-Eating; the Frozen-Thawed (_gelato-soluta_), good only in that\nstate; the Concord Apple, possibly the same with the\n_Musketa-quidensis;_ the Assabet Apple; the Brindled Apple; Wine of New\nEngland; the Chickaree Apple; the Green Apple (_Malus viridis_);\u2014this\nhas many synonyms; in an imperfect state, it is the _Cholera morbifera\naut dysenterifera, puerulis dilectissima;_[13]\u2014the Apple which Atalanta\nstopped to pick up; the Hedge-Apple (_Malus Sepium_); the Slug-Apple\n(_limacea_); the Railroad-Apple, which perhaps came from a core thrown\nout of the cars; the Apple whose Fruit we tasted in our Youth; our\nParticular Apple, not to be found in any catalogue,\u2014_Pedestrium\nSolatium;_[14] also the Apple where hangs the Forgotten Scythe; Iduna\u2019s\nApples, and the Apples which Loki found in the Wood; and a great many\nmore I have on my list, too numerous to mention,\u2014all of them good. As\nBod\u00e6us exclaims, referring to the culti-vated kinds, and adapting\nVirgil to his case, so I, adapting Bod\u00e6us,\u2014\n\n\u201cNot if I had a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths,\nAn iron voice, could I describe all the forms\nAnd reckon up all the names of these _wild apples_.\u201d\n\n\n [13] The apple that brings the disease of cholera and of dysentery,\n the fruit that small boys like best.\n\n\n [14] The tramp\u2019s comfort.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST GLEANING\n\n\nBy the middle of November the wild apples have lost some of their\nbrilliancy, and have chiefly fallen. A great part are decayed on the\nground, and the sound ones are more palatable than before. The note of\nthe chickadee sounds now more distinct, as you wander amid the old\ntrees, and the autumnal dandelion is half-closed and tearful. But\nstill, if you are a skilful gleaner, you may get many a pocket-full\neven of grafted fruit, long after apples are supposed to be gone\nout-of-doors. I know a Blue-Pearmain tree, growing within the edge of a\nswamp, almost as good as wild. You would not suppose that there was any\nfruit left there, on the first survey, but you must look according to\nsystem. Those which lie exposed are quite brown and rotten now, or\nperchance a few still show one blooming cheek here and there amid the\nwet leaves. Nevertheless, with experienced eyes, I explore amid the\nbare alders and the huckleberry-bushes and the withered sedge, and in\nthe crevices of the rocks, which are full of leaves, and pry under the\nfallen and decaying ferns, which, with apple and alder leaves, thickly\nstrew the ground. For I know that they lie concealed, fallen into\nhollows long since and covered up by the leaves of the tree itself,\u2014a\nproper kind of packing. From these lurking-places, anywhere within the\ncircumference of the tree, I draw forth the fruit, all wet and glossy,\nmaybe nibbled by rabbits and hollowed out by crickets and perhaps with\na leaf or two cemented to it (as Curzon[15] an old manuscript from a\nmonastery\u2019s mouldy cellar), but still with a rich bloom on it, and at\nleast as ripe and well kept, if not better than those in barrels, more\ncrisp and lively than they. If these resources fail to yield anything,\nI have learned to look between the bases of the suckers which spring\nthickly from some horizontal limb, for now and then one lodges there,\nor in the very midst of an alder-clump, where they are covered by\nleaves, safe from cows which may have smelled them out. If I am\nsharp-set, for I do not refuse the Blue-Pearmain, I fill my pockets on\neach side; and as I retrace my steps in the frosty eve, being perhaps\nfour or five miles from home, I eat one first from this side, and then\nfrom that, to keep my balance.\n\n [15] Robert Curzon was a traveller who searched for old manuscripts in\n the monasteries of the Levant. See his book, Ancient Monasteries of\n the East.\n\n\nI learn from Topsell\u2019s Gesner, whose authority appears to be Albertus,\nthat the following is the way in which the hedgehog collects and\ncarries home his apples. He says: \u201cHis meat is apples, worms, or\ngrapes: when he findeth apples or grapes on the earth, he rolleth\nhimself upon them, until he have filled all his prickles, and then\ncarrieth them home to his den, never bearing above one in his mouth;\nand if it fortune that one of them fall off by the way, he likewise\nshaketh off all the residue, and walloweth upon them afresh, until they\nbe all settled upon his back again. So, forth he goeth, making a noise\nlike a cart-wheel; and if he have any young ones in his nest, they pull\noff his load wherewithal he is loaded, eating thereof what they please,\nand laying up the residue for the time to come.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE \u201cFROZEN-THAWED\u201d APPLE\n\n\nToward the end of November, though some of the sound ones are yet more\nmellow and perhaps more edible, they have generally, like the leaves,\nlost their beauty, and are beginning to freeze. It is finger-cold, and\nprudent farmers get in their barrelled apples, and bring you the apples\nand cider which they have engaged; for it is time to put them into the\ncellar. Perhaps a few on the ground show their red cheeks above the\nearly snow, and occasionally some even preserve their color and\nsoundness under the snow throughout the winter. But generally at the\nbeginning of the winter they freeze hard, and soon, though undecayed,\nacquire the color of a baked apple.\n\nBefore the end of December, generally, they experience their first\nthawing. Those which a month ago were sour, crabbed, and quite\nunpalatable to the civilized taste, such at least as were frozen while\nsound, let a warmer sun come to thaw them, for they are extremely\nsensitive to its rays, are found to be filled with a rich, sweet cider,\nbetter than any bottled cider that I know of, and with which I am\nbetter acquainted than with wine. All apples are good in this state,\nand your jaws are the cider-press. Others, which have more substance,\nare a sweet and luscious food,\u2014in my opinion of more worth than the\npine-apples which are imported from the West Indies. Those which lately\neven I tasted only to repent of it,\u2014for I am semi-civilized,\u2014which the\nfarmer willingly left on the tree, I am now glad to find have the\nproperty of hanging on like the leaves of the young oaks. It is a way\nto keep cider sweet without boiling. Let the frost come to freeze them\nfirst, solid as stones, and then the rain or a warm winter day to thaw\nthem, and they will seem to have borrowed a flavor from heaven through\nthe medium of the air in which they hang. Or perchance you find, when\nyou get home, that those which rattled in your pocket have thawed, and\nthe ice is turned to cider. But after the third or fourth freezing and\nthawing they will not be found so good.\n\nWhat are the imported half-ripe fruits of the torrid South to this\nfruit matured by the cold of the frigid North? These are those crabbed\napples with which I cheated my companion, and kept a smooth face that I\nmight tempt him to eat. Now we both greedily fill our pockets with\nthem,\u2014bending to drink the cup and save our lappets from the\noverflowing juice,\u2014and grow more social with their wine. Was there one\nthat hung so high and sheltered by the tangled branches that our sticks\ncould not dislodge it?\n\nIt is a fruit never carried to market, that I am aware of,\u2014quite\ndistinct from the apple of the markets, as from dried apple and\ncider,\u2014and it is not every winter that produces it in perfection.\n\nThe era of the Wild Apple will soon be past. It is a fruit which will\nprobably become extinct in New England. You may still wander through\nold orchards of native fruit of great extent, which for the most part\nwent to the cider-mill, now all gone to decay. I have heard of an\norchard in a distant town, on the side of a hill, where the apples\nrolled down and lay four feet deep against a wall on the lower side,\nand this the owner cut down for fear they should be made into cider.\nSince the temperance reform and the general introduction of grafted\nfruit, no native apple-trees, such as I see everywhere in deserted\npastures, and where the woods have grown up around them, are set out. I\nfear that he who walks over these fields a century hence will not know\nthe pleasure of knocking off wild apples. Ah, poor man, there are many\npleasures which he will not know! Notwithstanding the prevalence of the\nBaldwin and the Porter, I doubt if so extensive orchards are set out\nto-day in my town as there were a century ago, wrhen those vast\nstraggling cider-orchards were planted, when men both ate and drank\napples, when the pomace-heap was the only nursery, and trees cost\nnothing but the trouble of setting them out. Men could afford then to\nstick a tree by every wall-side and let it take its chance. I see\nnobody planting trees to-day in such out-of-the-way places, along the\nlonely roads and lanes, and at the bottom of dells in the wood. Now\nthat they have grafted trees, and pay a priee for them, they collect\nthem into a plat by their houses, and fence them in,\u2014and the end of it\nall will be that we shall be compelled to look for our apples in a\nbarrel.\n\nThis is \u201cThe word of the Lord that came to Joel the son of Pethuel.\n\n\u201cHear this, ye old men, and give ear, all ye inhabitants of the land!\nHath this been in your days, or even in the days of your fathers?...\n\n\u201cThat which the palmer-worm hath left hath the locust eaten; and that\nwhich the locust hath left hath the canker-worm eaten; and that which\nthe canker-worm hath left hath the caterpillar eaten.\n\n\u201cAwake, ye drunkards, and weep! and howl, all ye drinkers of wine,\nbecause of the new wine! for it is cut off from your mouth.\n\n\u201cFor a nation is come up upon my land, strong, and without number,\nwhose teeth are the teeth of a lion, and he hath the cheek-teeth of a\ngreat lion.\n\n\u201cHe hath laid my vine waste, and barked my fig-tree; he hath made it\nclean bare, and cast it away; the branches thereof are made white....\n\n\u201cBe ye ashamed, O ye husbandmen! howl, O ye vine-dressers!...\n\n\u201cThe vine is dried up, and the fig-tree languisheth; the\npomegranate-tree, the palm tree also, and the apple-tree, even all the\ntrees of the field, are withered: because joy is withered away from the\nsons of men.\u201d[16]\n\n [16] JOEL, chapter i., verses 1\u201312.","title":"Wild Apples","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":9336}