approaches,
the buried treasures in the garden are remembered. With spade and axe
we go out and penetrate through the snow and frozen earth till the inner
dressing of straw is laid bare. It is not quite as clear and bright as
when we placed it there last fall, but the fruit beneath, which the
hand soon exposes, is just as bright and far more luscious. Then, as day
after day you resort to the hole, and, removing the straw and earth from
the opening, thrust your arm into the fragrant pit, you have a better
chance than ever before to become acquainted with your favorites by the
sense of touch. How you feel for them, reaching to the right and left!
Now you have got a Tolman sweet; you imagine you can feel that single
meridian line that divides it into two hemispheres. Now a greening fills
your hand, you feel its fine quality beneath its rough coat. Now you
have hooked a swaar, you recognize its full face; now a Vandevere or a
King rolls down from the apex above, and you bag it at once. When you
were a school-boy you stowed these away in your pockets and ate them
along the road and at recess, and again at noon time; and they, in
a measure, corrected the effects of the cake and pie with which your
indulgent mother filled your lunch-basket.

The boy is indeed the true apple-eater, and is not to be questioned how
he came by the fruit with which his pockets are filled. It belongs to
him...His own juicy flesh craves the juicy flesh of the apple. Sap draws
sap. His fruit-eating has little reference to the state of his appetite.
Whether he be full of meat or empty of meat he wants the apple just
the same. Before meal or after meal it never comes amiss. The farm-boy
munches apples all day long. He has nests of them in the hay-mow,
mellowing, to which he makes frequent visits. Sometimes old Brindle,
having access through the open door, smells them out and makes short
work of them.

In some countries the custom remains of placing a rosy apple in the hand
of the dead that they may find it when they enter paradise. In northern
mythology the giants eat apples to keep off old age.

The apple is indeed the fruit of youth. As we grow old we crave apples
less. It is an ominous sign. When you are ashamed to be seen eating them
on the street; when you can carry them in your pocket and your hand not
constantly find its way to them; when your neighbor has apples and you
have none, and you make no nocturnal visits to his orchard; when your
lu