Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1891-10-21
THE OLD ORCHARD.
Well Beloved Spot in the Old Home.
stead of New England.

Well Beloved Spot in the Old Home.
stead of New England.
There are many things about4the old
farm. especially the old homestead of
New England and the middle states,
which made an indelible impression
upon those of us who first saw the
light there The house, with its quaint
gables and long front porch, the barn
and carriage shed, the old well with it's
long sweep and the oal1en bucket i'm
mortalized in song, the pasture
fields to which, in the sum-
mer mornings, we drove the COWS
through the lane and the grass
laden with dew, and the meadow where
we made hay, and the little ten-acro
corn-feid which we hoed ''by hand"
and the s:tater patch" and the spots
where rye and oats grew. These, each
and all, made an impression on our boy
ish minds which the years have not
been able 10 eieace. But the, one thing
of all others 'on the old farm we re-
member most. and even now like to
dwell upon, is the old orchard that stood
on the hillside facing south, at whose
feet flowed IA brook that nlurmured
July.
That old orchard, with its twisted
and gnarled, but fruitful trees, where
grew the toOthsome beauties that made
our eyes fairly dance with delight, and
tickled with exquisite touch our youth
full palates, is as real to us now as
when, years ago, we sat beneath it's
outspread and bending boughs, or hid
ourselves away in it's tree-tops, or lay
concealed in the grass munching the
green apples IN early summer
What d favorite resort it was, that
old orchard! How it's blossoms in May
or early june perfumed the whole
farm. What d sight it was on those
beautiful summer mornings as it fes-
TONED with pink and white blossoms
the long rows shat stood thus stately in
snow crowned .splendor! There was q
regality about the display which lam
guage can not describe. And with what
impatience we watched the forming,
growing fruit, as the days were on,
and the weeks slipped by, and July
made room for August, and September
stepped aside for October. And in the
autumn the old orchard stood in golden
beauty, the branches dipping with their
heavy burdens, and the ground Uttered
with the over-ripe apples that could
cling to stem no longer. What a time
it was! The gathering of fruit, the
sorting and packing away, some in the
cellar and some in the ground, and the
cider-malzing of those mot fit to keep"
What an eventful period of our lives
losing none Of its charm by regular
recurrence, but coming back with each
revolving year with interest ever new.
What story that old orchard could tell
if it had a tongue, the battles with
wind and storm. the struggles with
wintry blasts and summer heats, the
tales of youthful adventure, OF lovers
meetings and partings, of the scenes it
witnessed, the conversations it over
heard, the songs sung, the vows re-
corded, the secrets whispered within
it's Enclosure, the history Of those it's
branches shaded from the sun rays in
the mornings of long ago-if it had
tongue and were so disposed, what re-
cital that old orchard could make
enough to inspire poems and ballads
and prose sketches innumerable. But,
alas! the old orchard can not speak.
Like many who knew it in that blessed
yesterday, it is mute and voiceless and
it's only utterances are the chants it's
leafess branches sigh forth when the
winds of autumn and winter sweep
over it. But, speechless as it is, that old
orchard stands liked in memory with
some Of the tendereSt recOllectiOnS of
orr life-aS green and beautiful and
fragrant, and fruitful, and attractive as
in the days when care sat lightly on our
hearts.-Atchison CKas.) Champion.