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Reservations connecting the National century certainly is this, how the Parks in the United States, so that tramps and convicts and ne'er-do-wells nomads could wander from one corner of the world have raised the health of of the United States to the opposite one the world so high in one generation by across the country, with scarcely a their children's camps, or what the day's travel outside the Reservations. community doctors of Edinburgh so And then the Himalayan ones, and then well call the Tree Nurseries. Who that the vast reservations of Scandinavia. ever saw — as I was taken in my childEverybody knows, for our histories all hood to see them — the little hamtell the tale, how fast the cities dwindled mocks swinging from the trees, will in population, how the inhabitants ever forget those sleeping faces? I saw spread out, first into breathing-room, one mother visiting her three delicate then into elbow-room, and lastly into children in the camp; I saw her kiss the comfortable spaciousness. All our his hand of Peter Whales. ... tories tell how the Canadian nomads What will the romance of the first, and then the Himalayan, took twenty-first century be, if not the fruit over the Forestry Departments of the - in some great spiritual advance, Governments, and organized their fire comparable only with the mighty social protection, and the designation of advances of our own century — of that lumbering tracts. Or if everyone revival of Nomad Prophecy which is does n't know or remember all this already arousing the wonder of the everyone at least knows the romantic listening people at the Sunday evening story of Peter Whales, the multi- choral feasts? We sent broken men and millionaire syndicator of cotton mills, women into the noble natural sanawho had been convicted of employing torium of the woods, and they came child labor: how he jumped the bail back with the live coal of prophecy on he was out on, pending a second trial, their lips. Will the lifetime of the and lost himself in the forests of north- children born in this decade, which ends ern Europe, and then from his un- our blessed century, behold a Prophet, known hiding-place, invited the tuber- or a race of Prophets, rising on the culous children of the world to come world as compellingly as the Hebrew into the woods and get well; and how he Prophets rose in their own circumwas internationally pardoned.5

scribed little nation in the ancient days? Yes! the romance of the twentieth If so, they will have come from the same 6 The first pardon issued by the International

source — from wandering in leisure and Pardoning Bureau, after the All-Nations Declara solitude where thoughts are long and tion of Interdependence in 1968.

brooding.

SOLACE OF APPLES

BY LUCY ELLIOT KEELER

‘Now just why, queried my father, That was his way. All I have to offer wandering here and there about my is my way of thinking about apples: the room, 'why this portrait of Voltaire?' sound of them, the scent of them, the

'That is easy,' I replied: ‘he loved look of them, the feel of them, the taste apples and good literature.

of them — the five senses sensed; also 'Enough! I am here for the same another, that of perception of distance. reason,' glancing at his photograph on All children get the distance between the table; 'but where then are John themselves and a visible apple, espeAdams and Francis Parkman and Rob- cially, in Yeats's parlance, 'that apple ert Browning?'.

on the bough most out of reach.' We ‘Coming, since you miss them, Apple youngsters had a core-tree at which of my Eye.' My voice trailed after him we nibbled like giraffes, not bothering as he moved out on the upper porch and to sever the apple from the parent stem, picked a Northern Spy from the more but clambering up, each child to its than century-old apple tree planted by individual apple. Cores were as scores Johnny Appleseed. He returned, peel- in less arboreal stunts. We anticipated ing his apple cleverly from bud to John Farrar who pitched his tent stem, and handed me back the peel.

beside a wall Without a word I twirled it three times

All apple trees within; around my head, dropped it on the

And if the apple did n't fall, floor, and we both bent over to read.

I should n't hesitate at all, 'Russet!' said he. 'Rambo!' said I,

I'd climb — and sin. to which duet we munched the apple. Non peccavi, though, since the core-tree

Yet I know families in which the ap- was our special property, as much ours ple plays no magic part, recalls no as the path and the little wicket at its glamorous childhood, stirs no epicurean end which Lord Baring formally gave palate, visualizes no fruity books, his five-year-old son Maurice, and our moves no remembering heart. I dis- only sin was decorative — brown cores agree with the second of the two sets of against a blue sky, which possibly irked people in the world — those who think our parents, although delighting us. the world is divided into two classes and Lord Melbourne felt and outflanked those who don't; for to me the world is distance by always taking two apples made up of apple-lovers and anti- at table, laying one in his lap while he apple-lovers. There is no middle ate the other. When Queen Victoria ground. Says the piece of sophistica- asked if he meant to eat it, he thought tion in South Wind, American women not, but he liked the full power of doing eat too many apples. Sour potatoes I so. Another wise one has summarized call them: makes them flat as boards. the test of the right size for an apple Apples ruin the figure, perhaps sour thus: ‘Can you put it in your pocket? the character.'

can you bite it? will it lie clasped in the VOL. 134 - NO. 2

225

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palm of your hand?' Sense was not ing. Dr. Johnson declared every orhand-sense, however, with the little chard should have apples rotting on the Esquimau boy who declared that his ground under it. John Inglesant, first apple had too many fish-scales in it. searching his enemy in Rome during the

As for the sound of an apple, audit plague, carried ‘a pomander of silver in the bagsful rumbling into the old cellar. the shape of an apple, stuffed with bins, the crunch of a half-ripe apple be- spices, which sent out a curious faint tween your strong young teeth, the perfume through small holes'; while the strike of an apple on tin roof, rolling ladies of Cranford cherished cloverhythmically, hesitating a moment at apples as sachets. One such apple, the eaves, and then a muffled thud on solidly embedded with cloves, and half the lawn. ‘Engaged!' my brother and I a century old, I used to handle with the used to shout from our beds; and to the respect an astronomer shows for a star. one who called first, the best windfall Shakespeare opined that there was was sacred property next morning. Un- small choice in rotten apples; but less some earlier roamer retrieved it Robert Frost shamelessly prefers them first.

Frost-bitten. Imagine my wrath in recent years No less a person than a president of when a certain canny workman, going the United States told me that of two to or from a factory night-shift, used to apples equally good he always took the climb and shake and, with a wicked red one; and to judge, he ate them little laugh at my helpless outcry from both. I sometimes visualize the twinkle the window, gather up the apples that in the eyes of the judging committee had played their coda on my outraged of the local agricultural society who lawn. One such prowler passed from called upon Mr. Emerson 'to examine culprit to criminal by ferreting out a the soil which grows such poor specilong pole hidden under a porch and mens of such fine varieties of apples'as working it at dawn exactly where I he had sent to the fair. Assuredly he could, from my bed, watch it jiggling was no judge of apple quality, which among the finest apples in the very top enhanced his intuition in choosing apof the tree. Nor was he the Irishman ples when Day, passing his pleached against whose maraudings A. E.'s ap- orchard, offered kingdoms, stars and ples were better guarded by the ghost sky; and I resented her subsequent of a dog than by a real dog. Finally, scorn. Pan did not scorn the little scrip apple-sound that resolves into music which merely smelled of apples, offered wafts from the very nomenclature: by the boy Daphnis. Poets ever work Stayman's Winesap, Hubbardson with the simplest materials; and when Nonesuch, Wealthy, Delicious, Red Emerson threw over the wall an apple, Astrakhan, Maiden's Blush, Rome a bootjack, a crown, or a volume of Beauty, Gilliflower, Northern Spy, verse, they not only hit the mark but Blenheim Orange, Pippin, King Falle- showed, as John Jay Chapman points water!

out, exactly where the thrower stood. When Azrael holds to my nostrils My ancient kinsman Elyot pro(pardon Omar!) an apple from the claimed in his Castle of Health that Tree of Life, the subtle scent registers ‘rough-tasted apples are wholesome,' so delight; but Montaigne'had seen those I infer that he too baited time and a who have run from the smell of an ap- book with an apple. His wonderful ple'; while Schiller required the odor of Holbein portrait hangs above Voltaire's decaying apples for inspiration in writ- on my appleside wall, and I frequently

every nomeno, music which Pand

salute them by tossing up an apple be- exquisite painting of Youth in Autumn fore them. They discriminated, as — the lad on horseback eyeing the apcould not one of my friends who, ples in his mother's straw hat, and on entering unannounced and seeing a the bough behind her; and Robinson heaped-up plate of green-apple rem- who nants, exclaimed in horror, 'Have you eaten all those?' (A negative method

lay dreaming of what things I would,

Calm and incorrigibly satisfied of judging many human enterprises.)

With apples and romance and ignorance. When the apple is unblemished, I yield to none in neatness and thoroughness The lesson in apple-scraping antedated of consumption. Naught but the stem my fourth year, as I know by changes and the shucks of the seeds remain. in the house that the apple-smashing Seedwise speaking, I pale before the episodes did. In these I was only an idea of the countless orchards I have entranced on-looker: the boys it was myself devoured. With an apple of who made the delectable, juice-charged medium size nothing compares to eat bruises on their apples by throwing ing it out of hand, burying the teeth in them hard against the dining-room its texture — native teeth. .

ceiling, the softer apples sticking there One of my friends tells me a family and requiring the urgency of other (Appleton, by the way) tradition, about apples, skillfully aimed, to bring them the Reverend Francis Parkman visit- down. With the new ceiling that aid to ing in the house, and being observed mastication was taboo. About this before a long mirror, swearing repeat period I discovered in the bound voledly. His shocked hostess asked what umes of the Agriculturist full-size apple he was doing. 'I am trying to pro- outlines which I humanized with pencil. nounce the name of my Redeemer All were furnished with teeth. An apwithout whistling!' He had recently ple without teeth is unthinkable! installed false teeth. One of my kin though that it should be actively as lately confided to me that he could well as passively toothsome was possinever see what was funny about Dog- bly an invention of my own. berry’s ‘I have my losses,' till, in one The squirrels hoarding nuts in the fell swoop, he lost his teeth. Then en hollows of our core-tree, – one butterlightenment. He too had something to nut so started now towers far above its talk about, losses to boast of, quite as sponsors, — and the bluejays hammerif he had been through the war! The ing kernels of corn into our flower-beds, toothless and the artificially furnished were no more winter-provident than we. may, of course, scrape their apples. I Some little natural hollows near a wildrecall one day during a trifling ailment apple tree were used as a cache for the my mother bringing me half an apple small bitter fruit, blanketed with with a short-bladed knife, and teaching leaves, to wait a February thaw when me to scrape and eat. A half-hour's we should mine and eat the trove. thrill and medicine. After which the How many petty incidents like this shell, to the neatly undermined core of arouse precious memories! You can alwhich a meat-skewer mast and paper ways romance about the apple trees sail had been attached, accompanied in your old orchard — trees you have me to the bathtub.

climbed and under which you have ‘let Although apples are autumnal, they the old cat die’; in the big crotches of are par excellence the fruit of child, which you read Munchausen, munchhood, as Karl Anderson shows in that ing apples meanwhile; the low hori

bite to a gra family got daily passandly

zontal bough under which you led the This tree bears buds and blossoms old nag, bearing some guileless guest and ripe apples, red and yellow and who needed 'taking down' and got it! striped and freckled and water-core; What tales the apples that went to and it never needs to be sprayed school with us could have told. They against scale or maggot, codlin, tusserved to propitiate teacher, to bribe sock, or mildew. And a ring of windour mathematical betters, for recupera- falls lies in the grass. One of the treastion at recess, for inspiration behind ures of the museum is the rosy apple our geographies. In the essay on Christ still bearing the slight dent where it hit Hospital, Lamb writes of his friend Le Newton's head, and caused the law of Grice, who was in the habit of eating gravitation to sprout; and another apples in school, for which he was often holds aloft William Tell's arrow. rebuked. One day, having pleased the Everything that mentions the apple master, who was himself eating apples, or has been inspired by its decorative the latter called out, 'Le Grice, here is worth — woven fabrics, sculpture, an apple for you.' Le Grice, who felt paintings, carvings; such by-products his dignity hurt, replied tranquilly, as the crab-apple cane which Franklin 'Sir, I never eat apples'; which en- bequeathed to Washington; and dumpraptured the boys.

lings after the recipe of Charles Lamb My apple-tree-shaded garden lies en — has place in my brain museum. route to a grade school, and my butcher Yes, even one of the 'worlds' of my Izzy's large family got the habit of childhood — a great Pound Sweeting, dropping in, on the four daily passages. inked out with equator and arctic One year of scarcity I protested, mildly circles and rough shapes of continents, inquiring if they had no apples at home. with cities marked by pins. I recall my ‘Oh, yes, we have a bushel,' returned mother soliloquizing over the inhabitone, “but we are saving those.

ants of one of these worlds, hung by a Our public library is located in a bit of string from its ancestral bough, high, wooded park in the very heart of thus: ‘All the atoms running round, the city, with entrances at all corners. paying their rent, ordering butter for On summer days, when I pass through, over Sunday, and the thirty-two teeth I seldom fail to see children prone on of them all having to be filled! the grass or the wide wall, sitting on the That swinging, spinning sphere of steps or the benches, engrossed in mine, my little world, endowed with books; and more than once I have the sights and smells and sounds and carried along a basket of apples to stories of appledom; its fables and distribute there, to complete the young folklore and fantasy; its gods and readers' cup of enchantment. For in heroes and devotees; its poets and my childhood a book was a book and an painters and philosophers; its history apple an apple, but neither prize quite and its fiction; its romance and utility perfect without the other.

— of Thee I sing! Yet thou hangest In one of my back-head convolutions, only from mine own tree. From milprobably no bigger than a hazel-nut, I lions of other boughs hangs fruit as keep a museum of apple treasures. In appetizing, as personal, as richly enthe middle of it stands a wonderful tree dowed, as memorable. Friend, to your with a little swing, in which from time own harvest! Review, rehandle, reto time sit Joan and Jermaine and taste, recall. I know of no more apJoselyn, while Martin Pippin shakes a petizing sport than to anthologize your hail of sweet apples about their heads. Applealia!

ants of one orguizing over the call my

s located in a

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