Good-night!
CHAPTER VII
When you live in the city, or various cities, as I have done, you have
various things that distract your attention from the miracle that is
spreading all over the earth when the spring comes. Do such things
happen every spring, or is it just something that has unblinded my
eyes? Maybe I have really caught that rosy hue habit from Roxanne; but
the apple-trees this week have been almost too much for me. There are
great, gnarly, old apple-trees in every spare corner of Byrdsville,
where you wouldn't even expect a tree to be; and ever since I have
been in this town I have been finding a new one stretching out its
crooked old arms to me as if to welcome me or bar my path. There is
one that grows half in and half out of Judge Luttrell's yard, so the
fence has to consider it a kind of post and stop at it to begin again
on the other side, while three of them are trying to completely close
up the door of the court-house on the Public Square. All the streets
are bordered with them, set along at ragged intervals with the tall
old maples, and all the gardens and yards have regiments of them
camped about the doors and walks.
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