Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1890-06-26
THE OLD ORCHARD.
Grandfather's Story of the Worthless Fruit
Trees,

Never shall l forget how Grandfather
Carver looked the afternoon l went to
obtain his permission to cut down the
old orchard on the hillside. The trees
were, perhaps, half a century old, utter
ly worthless, and James and l were
tired of caring for them; but we could
never muster courage necessary to plead
their downfall with grandfather, who
was so particular about having them
well looked after.
We often wondered at this strange So
licitude for their worthless fruit, and
when he insisted upon eatingit himself,
he became childish object of our pity.
That day we were discussing their
worthlessness, and 1 expressed a deter
mination to chop the last tree of
them down, whether grandfather was
willing or not. James protested and ar
gued that perhaps some family secret
might be connected with them, and that
we had better obtain his permission.
"Well we can ask him, but | am sure
of REFUSAL" answered, and started
for his seat under the naples, where he
was accustomed to spend his afternoons
My heart almost failed me, but l was in
an i'll mood, and did not give myself
time to falter, but stated my errand with
as little ceremony as possible.
"William," said he, gravely, laying
aside his newspaper and lifting his spec
tacles to his forehead, "those trees have
history, and must stand till 1 am laid
in my grave. They are of my own
grating and must die with me-" AS he
spoke looked at the white head and
bent form, and thought | heard in his
deep measured tones the prophecy of
death. Slowly, however, he continued:
"YOu have not many more years to
wait till you have my permission to lay
them low. The blight is whitening
their useless branches even as death
creeps over my tOttering frame. My
boys, you are the last of my race. Your
parents are sleeping in yonder church
yard, and to you must tell the story of
my apple trees"
James and forgot our desire to de-
stroy the orchard, and seated ourselves
to hear from grandfather's own lips the
secret which we had long suspected
was locked up in the aged trunks. He
hesitated a moment, as if to call in the
aid of departed spirits, then slowly pro-
ceeded: /
"My father came here with a compa-
ny of immigrants from New England,
when the Muskingum Valley was quite
wilderness, and settled in yonder cove.
Another of the company, Stewart An
derson by name, entered his tract of
land and built his cabin few rods from
where we are now sitting. That rank
grass near the fence marks the exact
spot where it stood.
"Neighbor Anderson was kind old
man, greatly beloved by all who knew
him, and a particular friend of my
fathers. He often crossed over to spend
a few hours in conversation with him.
1t was upon this feeble old man that
your grandfather and his brother Jacob
attempted to play mean trick.
"My father was one of the first of the
company to plant an orchard, and in it
grew many grades and kinds of fruit.
Some of it was early, some late, some
mellow and sweet, and some sour and
worthless. The early settlers used to
come to him for CRAFTS when they were
planting trees.
"One frosty morning in March, old
neighbor Anderson came over to get
CRAFTS for his trees, and while he warm
ed at the fire, father sent Jacob and to
get grating sprouts from the best trees
in our orchard. AS we went, proposed
to fool the old man by giving him some
bastard sprouts from worthless tree
that grew over in the pasture.
"'The old man will think his trees
have been bewitched when he comes to
gather his apples added Jacob, pleased
with the idea. Wen put an evil spirit
in every sprout.'
at was easier done than either of us
imagined. We put the ghost of False
hood in every graft, and all my life has |
it haunted me. We tied them in bun |
dies, and labeled them with the names |
of good fruit, that we might better con-
ceal the demon within them. We car |
ried them to the house, where father and |
neighbor Anderson still sat, enjoying |
the cheerful fire that burned brightly |
upon the hearth.
"When we delivered our CRAFTS, the
face of the old man lighted up with
hope. He saw not the curse put upon
them, but fancied that, through the
years, he saw rosy checked apples wait
ing for the gatherer's basket He lifted |
his eyes in thanks, as he uttered his
God bless you, boys, you shall share
with me the fruit of my trees
ave did not tarry long, but stole out
side and laughed heartily at the old
mans promise to share the apples with
us. Wen be much obliged to him,
said Jacob, but I'm afraid they'll be
too tough for me-
"But l soon felt repentant, and as he
went trudging home, carefully carrying
his worthless CRAFTS, l could not help
pitying him. 1t seemed too late, how
ever, to undo our thoughtless deed, and
/ tried to quiet my troubled conscience.
| looked at his tottering form, and said
to myself: 1T makes no difference what
we gave him, he will not live to eat fruit