Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1890-05-31

bundles, and labeled them with the
names Of good fruit that we might bet
ter conceal the demon within them.
We carried them to the house, where
father and neighbor Anderson still sat,
brightly upon the hearth.
when we delivered our gratis, the
face Of the old man lighted up with hope
He saw not the curse put upon them,
| but fancied that through tho years, he
saw rosy-cheeked apples waiting 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
1--WE 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 Pm afraid they'll be too
tough for me-
"But 1 soon felt repentant, and as he
went .trudging homo. carefully carrying
| his worthless gratis, Icould not help pity.
ing him. 1t seemed too late, however,
| to undo our thoughtless deed, and
tried to quiet my troubled c conscience.
looked at his lettering form, and said
| to myself: 1t makes no difference what
| we gave him, he will not live to eat
| fruit from his trees Do you believe IL,
| boys, even as 1 stood ashamed of my
own act, those migrated sprouts bore
fruit, and 1t tasted OF the demon en-
barked in them.
''For two years neighbor Anderson
cared for his orchard, and seemed to
| take much pleasure in seeing his trees
grow firm and strong. When he died,
both Jacob and l followed his funeral
train, and as we took our last look at
the corpse we fancied we saw on his
| cold lips the same hopeful smile they
wore when he promised us fruit from
his apple trees. The hopeful dream Of
| the future that had filled his breast
during life seemed not to have departed,
but nodded itself into an image in the
form of lifeless clay.
"When they came to settle up his es
tate they found heavy mortgage upon
the farm, and when the place was sold
my father purchased it, and in his will
left it to me. Thus lived to own the
orchard, and eat fruit from the gratis
had imposed upon harmless old man.
Now, my boys, l have told you the
story Of my apple trees, and when am
laid in the grave wish you to destroy
them all, and plant in their stead the
best trees that money can buy. You
must be patient with them a few years
longer, for have use for them while !
live. When selfishness or malice tempts
me to wrong another, the ghosts hidden
in the trees rustic about among the
leaves, and warn me to think anew
When seek to avoid doing neighborly
deeds voice from the orchard on the
| hillside breathes into my ear the GER
tainty Of my eating the fruits Of my
own charity. No, boys, 1 can not let
you cut down ono tree"
When grandfather had finished his
story James and stole away to our
work, leaving him to rcst his silver
gray head upon his cane, and muse I'M
| interrupted over those early memories
that lend the scar days Of age the gay
| colors Of youth.
Grandfather Carver has long since
| gone home to meet ''neighbor" Ander-
son, and share with him such fruits as
| never grew on earthly trees. The axe
has laid low the old orchard, and in its
stead are planted trees that bear such
| apples as fancy pictured to neighbor
| Anderson long years ago.
| materialized into living trees with root
and branch and fruit waiting the gath
erer's basket; but after all. they do not
satisfy; there is something about them
that is wanting. In bearing their loads
of fruit they seem to dwarf themselves,
and become commonplace.
1t may be an idle within, but memory
will have none of them. She still pict-
ures frail old man going about among
the great trunks Of aged trees, moralizing
oyer the graver problems Of human life,
and gathering fruit far more sweet than
that now ripening in the sunshine Men
| may sorrow over what seem to be the
errors Of the past, but God lets nothing
grow In vain. What we scoff at and
call useless, and clear away. makes US
better, and he sees in all some purpose,
| and molds out of it truths that can
| never pass away.-Milan Still. in Yankee
Blade.