Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1856-04-12
miscellaneous
ABOUT PEAR-TREES

er pays
''What has that to do with pear-trees2"
Everything, Rowle y; everything-for that IS the
introduction. Now, see how ingeniouslY shall
spin from it.
Many people hold, that pear-trees are to be de-
sircd because they bear pears, aud that pears are
to be valued for the palate, because they arc rich,
Juicy, and deliclous-for so they certainly arc
Tha is the notion which has possessed some brains
and | cannot deny that it is plausible; yet it is
mainly q mistaken ono-a narrow and carnal
Yiaw.
"But," said my familiar, "whcn the Professor
brings Inc down ono Duchess and two FLEMISH
Beauties II I'm speaking Of pcars), and my lips
kiss their checks, and their juice flow along my
tongue, to gladden. the sense, then ] hold to that
view, and | bloss God"
Now wait, Rowley, wait, | said; for | was afraid
he would say 50 something foolish. So he sat in my
porch, and, with his cigar (which | condemn mild
lyO disputed the fragrance of the honey-suckles,
and listened to the wisdom Oh age.
Whoever, | continued, whoever prizes simply his
cxistencc-whoever thinks highly Of his presence,
values his department, and is content with being"
in other words, whoever believes life is an end
rather than a means, and, therefore, is content to
be, rather than to a0--ho may think himself hap
py; but he is mistaken. You shake your head,
Rowley, but it Is so.
SO it is with the pears-they, too, are a means,
not an end.
Whoever, having grown a fine pear, is elated,
and lays much stress upon the tempting fruit, is
in danger of sorrow and disappointment-he may
be laying up for himself a future grief. Yet
must allow, that, if the fruit had been nlpt by an
untinely boy, or arrested by q summer blight, be-
fore its juicy flesh had been ripencd to perfection,
my own sense of p~ropriety would have been shock
cd; for all things work towards completeness, and
thus minister to our satisfaction. Satisfaction, my
dear iriend-not happiness-is the end and aim
of a true existence. Consider what it is which
satisfies, when we look upon a daisy or violet
blooming in the shelter of n rugged rock; upon the
cedar, the oak, or the beach, spreading its broad
branches over the shadowy plain; upon the field
Of grain, waving in the light OF the golden SUM-;
upon the succulent asparagus. pushing through
the dark, damp earth--these all come to the full
ness of perfection; and we are satisfied with them,
for they are complete. 1t is SO with the wood
duck, diving and sporting in the still waters OF an
inland lake; with the robin, that sings out his soul
to his mate broOding on the sky-blue eggs; with
the slow and stalwart OK, who drags the pillow
along the fertile furrow; with the hound who cour-
ses the willy fox, and with the fox who outwits the
chasing hound-these nj, satisfy us, for they are
complete: they do UeU what they are made to do.
Is il not 50 with men, my friend? we ma no
fault with q man, or a woman, who does q thlng
well-but are satisfied; and he who makes a per-
feet pair of shoes. does as complete a tAing as he
who sits we'll on a kings throne, or decides justly
on a judges bench.
1t is the same in art: for the completeness OF
Menet's Rag-picker 1.-TWO inches high, or his Cat
sucking ner hlJtenS (uOne III clayJ, Is tquul III
perfection to the Dying Gladiator, or Angeles Mo-
ses. done in marble. In literature, also, we find
this so, and we are satisfied with Burns's verses to
q Mouse, with Leigh Hunts Abou-ben-Adhem,
with LowelPs-
"John P,
Robinson, he"-
because they are, in themselves, as perfect and
complete as is q Hamlet, or a House of Seven Ga
bles. 1t is, therefore, de sirable that men and wo
men should do that well which they can do, ant
fad out as soon as possible what they can do best
and not waste too much time in tears or complaint
because they cannot do something else. The ma
who raises good potatoes, is eminently worthy, q
is he who makes good verses, busts, or coaches
and either of them may be a complete man (an'
so great, and satisfactory to himself and to nj
fellow-men. 1t is not the thing done, but the spn
it of the man who does it, that God loves.
Now it will be clear. therefore, that, to the peal
tree, it is necessary to bear pears, for that Is 1t
vocation, its purpose. 1t was for that, that tn
brown seed was dropped into the earth; thas whe
the warm, bursting spring came, it sent down 1t
delicate root, and pushed up its tender top, an
unfolded its leaves, and stretched forth its branche
and, when the time came, elaborated its juices IL
to buds EMBEDDING blossoms-fragrant promises
future fruit.
1t is right, therefore, for the pear-tree to bef
pears.
But, for a man, his duty is to furnish the trc
WITH every pOSSlDle ldcilly anu convenience hS
essary for it to perfect its purpose; for the tree ca
not do this for itself. He is to see that there
good earth mot made over rich), and well dt
and broken, SO that the rays of the iructifying 81
can enter it, and the gentle dews sink into it; thu
he is to plant the tree in it. And let him do tn
well-for trees are grateful; they like not to ha
their roots crowded into q small hole dug in a hal
soil-no well-bred pear-tree will submit to such /
dignity, and many will die if so treated-but rat
err into the mellow earth, spread out the roots, an
press among them the genial mould, so that the
kiss one another; and plant not too deep, but so
to cover, with an inch of earth, the neck when,
the roots branch; then sustain the stem with
slender stake, and the first work is done. Whoe
er has done this, will value the warm April su
shine ana the soft April showers, and he will watt
in the last of the month, till he shall see the u
folding buds; and then the expanding leaves, al
the lusty shoots, wagging in the wind, will gi
him hope. In another year, he will wait for bic
SONS, and when they come, he will be thankful
lie will see to it that no marauding caterpllla
fatten there, that no curcullo whets his tooth
that first fruit; for he will walk in his garden
the fresh morning, in the ~shimmering noon-tid
and at the shady evening, and will feel that he b
something to live for. lie will be the %proyiden'
Of his pear-tree, and Il worthy man.
| shall always remember S. G. p, who at la
found peace among his pear-trees-a Salem an
repose. lie was early driven forth, lshmael-lik
into the wilderness, as other men are, and was
danger of perishing: for, was IL not necessary, i
dispensable, to have much wealth, to be a mercha
prince, and send forth ventures in ships? ]
other men, older men, it seemed so, and his rap
energies ~grappled with these weapons with whi'
to fight the world; for other men and mercha
princes were struggling to ges what all could n
have, and there were many obstacles to be owe
come, and much competition. For years he wor
ed like a lion. and knew no rest; he visited mar
lands and brayed many seas, and for what? Tn
he might secure, in his own hand, q larger sha
of the worlds wealth, and so be pointed at as ii
man who owned much gold. But ships were los
and fires ravaged; and agents were dishonest. tn
they, too, might have wealth; and the end saw
G.. p. a ruined man. When he was too old to r
form his life, so as to work and not waste his e.
ergies, he remembered his fathers garden and h
peartrees, and there he went with d small incom
to pass the evening of his days: and there he di
pass it, in com pany with his two good daughter
and in communion with his Louise BONES" an
''St. Michels."