No More Learning

Going up the side of a cliff about the first of November, I saw a
vigorous young apple tree, which, planted by birds or cows, had shot
up amid the rocks and open woods there, and had now much fruit on it,
uninjured by the frosts, when all cultivated apples were gathered. It
was a rank, wild growth, with many green leaves on it still, and made
an impression of thorniness. The fruit was hard and green, but looked
as if it would be palatable in the winter. Some was dangling on the
twigs, but more half buried in the wet leaves under the tree, or
rolled far down the hill amid the rocks. The owner knows nothing of
it. The day was not observed when it first blossomed, nor when it
first bore fruit, unless by the chickadee. There was no dancing on the
green beneath it in its honor, and now there is no hand to pluck its
fruit,--which is only gnawed by squirrels, as I perceive. It has done
double duty,--not only borne this crop, but each twig has grown a foot
into the air. And this is _such_ fruit! bigger than many berries, we
must admit, and carried home will be sound and palatable next spring.
What care I for Iduna's apples so long as I can get these?

When I go by this shrub thus late and hardy, and see its dangling
fruit, I respect the tree, and I am grateful for Nature's bounty, even
though I cannot eat it. Here on this rugged and woody hillside has
grown an apple tree, not planted by man, no relic of a former orchard,
but a natural growth, like the pines and oaks. Most fruits which we
prize and use depend entirely on our care. Corn and grain, potatoes,
peaches, melons, etc.
, depend altogether on our planting; but the
apple emulates man's independence and enterprise. It is not simply
carried, as I have said, but, like him, to some extent, it has
migrated to this New World, and is even, here and there, making its
way amid the aboriginal trees; just as the ox and dog and horse
sometimes run wild and maintain themselves.

[Illustration: _Wild Apple Tree_]

Even the sourest and crabbedest apple, growing in the most unfavorable
position, suggests such thoughts as these, it is so noble a fruit.


THE CRAB

Nevertheless, _our_ wild apple is wild only like myself, perchance,
who belong not to the aboriginal race here, but have strayed into the
woods from the cultivated stock. Wilder still, as I have said, there
grows elsewhere in this country a native and aboriginal crab-apple,
_Malus coronaria_, "whose nature has not yet been modified by
cultivation. " It is found from western New York to Minnesota, and
southward. Michaux says that its ordinary height "is fifteen or
eighteen feet, but it is sometimes found twenty-five or thirty feet
high," and that the large ones "exactly resemble the common apple
tree. " "The flowers are white mingled with rose color, and are
collected in corymbs. " They are remarkable for their delicious odor.
The fruit, according to him, is about an inch and a half in diameter,
and is intensely acid. Yet they make fine sweetmeats and also cider of
them. He concludes that "if, on being cultivated, it does not yield
new and palatable varieties, it will at least be celebrated for the
beauty of its flowers, and for the sweetness of its perfume. "

I never saw the crab-apple till May, 1861. I had heard of it through
Michaux, but more modern botanists, so far as I know, have not
treated it as of any peculiar importance. Thus it was a half-fabulous
tree to me. I contemplated a pilgrimage to the "Glades," a portion of
Pennsylvania where it was said to grow to perfection.