mind to have because he knows it was good in his old
home a thousand miles away. But the peddler, not having this variety,
and knowing that if he did have it it would prove worthless, substitutes
a Ben Davis or some other approved variety, and it goes into the ground
and in due time produces an abundance of excellent fruit. In this case
the peddler does a really good thing. If nursery-men will stop
propagating everything but varieties adapted to the country and the
markets, and many of them are doing this, the tree peddler will be
powerless for mischief--will in fact become a great public benefactor.
But so long as nursery-men will continue to grow and sell worthless
varieties, and so long as the people will remain in ignorance regarding
adaptability, so long will the dishonest peddler remain an unmitigated
nuisance and fraud. In brief these three things are wanted: Intelligent
and honest nurserymen; orchard planters who either know what varieties
are best for them to have, or who are willing to trust the selection to
the afore-mentioned intelligent and honest nursery-men; and third,
first-class talkers, intelligent as to varieties and methods of culture,
who buy only of the intelligent and honest nursery-men, to go through
the country and sell trees. It is unfortunate that it takes so many
words to express what I wanted to say, but I am done at last.

* * * * *

I have got it! Yes, all the ice I want is now white for the harvest in
our "artificial" pond. It is the only thing that reconciles me to this
fierce visit of polar weather. As soon as a trifle milder wave gets
along our way we shall carefully store away sufficient for the year's
use. By the way, where are the poor deluded woodchucks, muskrats, and
Old Settlers, who told us we were to bask in mild etherialness all
winter long? I am disgusted this morning, with the mercury at 30 degrees
below zero, and still going down, at the whole batch of them, and with
Vennor and Hazen, and all professionally weatherwise men and things. I
have heard of little real suffering in my neighborhood from the cold,
among either humans or brutes. Doubtless, when the weather moderates
and people get out to tell each other all about the cold spell, there
will be many true tales of intense suffering and more than the usual
romancing about the terrible week. And then the Oldest Inhabitant will
thaw out, and with all the self-satisfaction that superior age an