The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1902-10-18

the fruits that tormented poor Tantalus,
"the wind ever blowing the boughs away
from him. y
In the Prose Edda we read of Iduna.
who keeps apples in box, so that when
any of the gods feel old age approaching
he eats one, and becomes young again. It
was an apple that William Tell shot from
the head of his son.
1t was an apple that caused Newton to
think of Nature great law
A spray of apple blossoms was by the
ancients awarded to the best singer.
1t has been found that the apple was
part of the treasures of those strange Lake
Dwellers, older than Greece and Rome
Coming down to our own century, we
are reminded of the apple tree of Apo
mattox which shaded the two great generals
Grant and Lee when they concluded the
Civil War, aud ushered in the new dawn of
Peace
An enthusiastic writer tells of tree in
Connecticut that lived more than one hun
dred years, and on its one -hundreth birth
day bore one hundred bushels of apples.
The name of the Baldwin apple is
familiar to us, but how many know that its
admirers have erected monument on the
site of the original tree
The Bible mentions the apple in several
places, always in terms of love and praise.
AS the apple tree among the trees of the
wood so is my beloved among the sons of
men. "Stay me with fagons, and com
fort me with apples.
Apples of gold in pictures of silver
And we think of the apple when we read
OF the tree by the River of Life that bears
twelve manner of fruit, and of that tree
''the leaves whereof are for the healing of
nations
loo well do we remember the fatal apple
that tempted our common Mother in the
garden.
Thoreau tells about some quaint old Eng
lsh customs and sayings connected with the
apple. Son Christmas Eve the farmers
and their men take a large bowl of cider
with toast in it, and, carrying it in state
to the orchard, they salute the apple trees
with much ceremony in order to make
them bear well the next season. y This
salatatlen consists in throwing some of the
cider about the roots of the tree, placing
bits OF toast on the branches, and then
encircling one of the best bearing trees in
the orchard they drink the following toast.
three times over
Here's to thee, old apple tree
whence thou mayst bud and whence thou
Hats full, caps full
Bushel, bushe sacks fnllr'
And my pockets full, tool HurraP'
Also what was called 'sapple howling'
was New Year custom. A troop of
boys visited the different orchards. and
dancing round the trees shouted these
words
Stand fast, root! Bear well, topl
Pray God send us good howling cropi
Every twig apples big;
Every bow, apples enowr'
This was called 'wassailing che trees. !,
and was thought by some authorities to
be survival of the heather sacrifices to
Pomona.
Herrick says:
Wassail the trees and they will beare
You many plum and many a peare
For more or less fruits they will bring
AS You so give them wassailing."
Our American poets have been marvel
ously inspired by this common home fruit.
Bryant has immortaized it in his "Plant
ing of the Apple Tree Holland in
Bitter and Sweet tells of the great
stores of fruit in the cellar of the old farm
house. Whittier paints vivid picture
that we all remember:
And for the winter fireside meet
The mug of cider simmered slow
The apples sputtersd in row.
And Oh, what pathos in this old
sketch:
The old brown homes cad stood apart.
From the wayside dust aloof.
The orchard trees could almost east
Their fruitage on its roof.
The apple trees so near it grew
That, when asleep I've lain
In the lonesome night could hear their
As they tapped against the pane"
An unknown poet sings of
THE haunting dreams OF sweet summer. dead.
Echoes OF songs cannot hear today
Visions of orchards crowned with bridal bloom
Where apple-blossoms scent the air of May
Who can forget the pathetic story of
poor Marie Bashkirtsef, frail, decadent
child Of wild ancestry, how she longed to
paint an apple orchard in full bloom, to
leave behind as token that a genius had
been on earth. She tells how they car
ried her to the spot, and she worked with
all her might, but she was weak, and
easily tired, so that long before she could
copy them the apple blossoms faded away,
and there was nothing left but the unfn-
ished picture, sad type of her own soon
coming decay and death. But best and
brightest Of all apple memories is ''Or-
chard Lands of Long Ago by James
Whitcomb Riley:
ooh Memory, alight and sing
Where rosy-belied pippins cling.
And golden russets CLINT and CLEAN
As in the old Arabian dream
The fruit of that enchanted tree
That glad Aladdin robbed for me!
And drowsy winds awake, and fan
My heart as when IL overran.
A heart as ripe as the apples grow
In orchard lands of long ago.
An apple orchard in the winter season
is a lovely scene. The last echoes of
Harvest Home have died away and
left silence unbroken save by few soil
tary birds.
Not many weeks ago the orchard was
glorious picture of red and gold and
green; now sad brown shadow fingers in
the fallen leaves.
A few months of silence and loneliness
and decay, when 10, tranformation! The
buds swell and open, the flush of new
birth steals gently over the gray cheek of
winters death.
And then we see anew the mystery of
the Resurrection, the Easter of the apple
tree. Myriads of rosy blossoms cover
the limbs, until the whole orchard lies
hidden beneath veil of beauty Who
can ever forget the sight of an apple or
chard in full bloom Memories of child