In January we had usually beheaded
some trees that we considered not worth leaving as they were: these
would be trees producing inferior and nondescript cider apples, or
perry pears. And we had already cut, and laid in a shady place, half
covered with soil, the young shoots of profitable sorts to furnish the
grafts for converting the beheaded trees into valuable producers.
The old man's function was to prepare the grafts, and unite them in
deftly-cut notches with their new parents. His was a rosy-cheeked and
many-wrinkled face, reminding one of an apple stored all the winter,
and, in his brown velveteen coat, with immense pockets, he made a
notable figure. He loved a chat and was always happy and
communicative, and his arrival seemed as much a herald of spring as
that of the welcome cuckoo. He was paid "by the piece,"
"three-halfpence a graft and cider," quantity not specified, but an
important part of the bargain because of a superstition that grafts
"unwetted" would not thrive! Some of these large trees would have ten
or more limbs requiring separate grafting, and therefore they earned
him a considerable sum, but it is surprising how soon they make a new
head, come into bearing, and repay with interest the cost of the work.
He was a thoughtful old man and a moralist. I can see him now,
standing with his snuff-box open ready in his hand, and saying very
solemnly, "I often thinks as an apple-tree is very similar to a child,
for you know, sir, we're told to train up a child in the way he shall
go, and when he is old he will not depart therefrom.
Pages:
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208