"
"I should like to pick them up when they are ripe," said Clara, and
Malcolm expressed a desire to hire himself out by the day to Mr. Grove
when that time arrived.
"An apple-orchard in autumn," continued their governess, "is often a
merry scene. Ladders are put against the trees, and the finest apples
are carefully picked off, but such as are to be used for cider-making
are shaken to the ground. Men and boys are at work, and even women and
children are there with baskets and aprons spread out to catch the
fruit; and they run back and forth wherever the apples fall thickest,
with much laughter at the unexpected showers that come down upon their
heads and necks. Large baskets filled with these apples are carried to
the mill, where, after being laid in heaps a while to mellow, they are
crushed and pressed till their juice is extracted; and this, being
fermented, becomes cider. From this cider, by a second fermentation, the
best vinegar is made."
[Illustration: THE APPLE-HARVEST.]
"Miss Harson," asked Edith, as the talk seemed to have come to an end,
"isn't there any more about apple trees? I like 'em."
"Yes, dear," was the reply; "there is more. I was just looking over, in
this little book, some queer superstitions about apple trees in England,
and here is a strange performance which is said to take place in some
very retired parts of the country:
"'Scarcely have the merry bells ushered in the morning of Christmas than
a troop of people may be seen entering the apple-orchard, often when the
trees are powdered with hoarfrost and snow lies deep upon the ground.
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