The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1908-03-26

grandfather brought his bride home.
Before the wedding he had fenced off
the big south meadow that sloped to
the sun; 1t was the finest, most fer
tile field on the farm and the neigh
bors told young Abraham King that
he would raise many crop Of wheat
In that meadow. Abraham King
smiled, and, being a man Of few
words, said nothing, but In his mind
he had vision of the years to be,
and in that vision he saw, not ripping
acres of harvest gold, but great leafy
avenues OF wide-spreadlng trees,
laden with fruit to gladden. the eyes
Of children and grandchildren yet un-
born. 1t was a vision to develop
slowly into fulfillment. Grandfather
King was in no hurry. He did not
set his whole orchard out at once, for
he wished 1t to grow with his life and
history and be bound up with all of
good and Joy that came to the house
hold he had founded. So on the
morning after he Had brought his
young wife home they went together
to the south meadow and planted
their bridal trees. These two trees
were yet living when we of the third
generation were born, and every
spring bedecked themselves in bios
som as delicately tinted as Elizabeth
Kings face when she walked through
the old south meadow in the morn
Of her life and love.
That was the beginning of the fa-
nous King orchard. Wien son
was born to Abraham and Elizabeth
q tree was planted in the orchard for
him. They had ten children in all,
and each child had its birthtree. Ev-
cry family festival was commemorate
ed in like fashion, and every beloved
visitor who spent a night under their
roof was expected to plant a tree in
the orchard. So it came to pass that
every tree in 1t was fair green mon
ument to some love or delight of the
past years.
We, the grandchildren OF Abraham
and Elizabeth, were born into this
heritage. The orchard was old when
we came to know it, and, for us. was
one of the things that must have ex-
listed. forever, like the sky and the
river and the stars. We could not
think of a world without the old
south orchard. Each grandchild-and
there were many of us, both on the
homestead where father lived and
scattered abroad in far lands-had its
tree there, set out by grandfather
when the news of it's birth was an
nounced to him.
In our day there was high stone
wall around it instead of grandfath-
sr's split rail fence. Our uncles and
father had built the wall in their
10 be beautiful with moss, and green
things growing out of it's. crevices,
yiolets purpling at its base in early
spring days, and goldenrod and asters
making September glory in its cor
ners.
Grandmother, as long as she was
able, liked to go through the orchard
with us, down to the farther gate,
where she never omitted to kiss us
all goodbye, even If we were to be
gone for no more than an hour. She
would wait at the gate, her sweet face
all aglow, until we were out of sight;
then she would visit Uncle Stephens
avenue before going back to the
house.
Uncle Stephens avenue" as we
always called it, was double row of
apple trees running down the western
side of the orchard-a great green
bowery arcade 1t was. To walk
through 1t in blossom time was some
thing not to be forgotten. 1t realized
for us our most extravagant dreams
OF fairyland wherein we wandered
under the gorgeous arches of kings
palaces over pavements OF pearl and
emerald. Heaven, we thought, must
surely be an endless succession of
Uncle Stephens avenues in blossom
that never faded.
Uncle Stephen was that first-born
whose birthtree stood nearest to the
two gnarled old patriarchs In the CEN
IRE OF the orchard. Father, who was
one OF the youngest members of the
family. had but one remembrance of
nim-as a handsome youth of eigh-
teen home from long sea voyage,
with all the glamor of faraway lands
and southern seas about him. In
uncle Stephen the blood of seafar-
ing race claimed its own. He had
none of grandfather's abiding love of
woods and meadows and the kindly
ways of the warm red earth; to sea
ne must go, despite the fears and
pleadings Of the reluctant mother.
and 1t was from the sea he came to
Bet out his avenue in the south
orchard with trees brought from his
voyage.
Then he sailed away again, and the
snip was never heard of more. The
gray nrst came in grandmother
brown hair in those months of wait
ing' Then, for the first time in its
me- the old orchard heard the sound
Oh weeping and was consecrated by a
sorrow.
To us children Uncle Stephen was
only name, but a name to conjure
WIN We never wearied of speculat-
ng on his fate and narrowing our
small souls in fearful imaginations
concerning his last moments. He
played an important part in many OF
our games and make-believes; he was
always the good fairy who appeared
mysteriously in the nick of time and
.escuea US from all difficulties. He