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1842.] AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS. 311

Saturday, August 27th. A peach-tree, which grows beside our house and brushes against the win- dow, is so burdened with fruit that I have had to prop it up. I never saw more splendid peaches in appear- ance,—great, round, crimson-checked beauties, clus- tering all over the tree. A pear-tree, likewise, is ma» turing a generous burden of small, sweet fruit, which will require to be eaten at about the same time as the peaches. There is something pleasantly annoying in this superfluous abundance; it is like standing under a tree of ripe apples, and giving it a shake, with the intention of bringing down a single one, when, behold, a dozen come thumping about our ears. But the idea of the infinite generosity and exhaustless bounty of our “other Nature is well worth attaining; and I never had it so vividly as now, when I find myself, with the few mouths which I am to feed, the sole in- heritor of the old clergyman’s wealth of fruits. His

. children, his friends in the village, and the clerical

guests who came to preach in his pulpit, were all wont to eat and be filled from these trees. Now, all these hearty old people have passed away, and in their stead is a solitary pair, whose appetites are more than satis- fied with the windfalls which the trees throw down at their feet. Howbeit, we shall have now and then a. guest to keep our peaches and pears from decaying. G. Bi, my old fellow-laborer at the community at Brook Farm, called on me last evening, and dined here to-day. He has been cultivating vegetables at Plymouth this summer, and selling them in the mar- ket. What a singular mode of life for a man of edu- cation and refinement, to spend his days in hard and earnest bodily toil, and then to convey the prod- ucts of his labor, in a wheelbarrow, to the public mar-