prevails.

All apples are good in November. Those which the farmer leaves out
as unsalable, and unpalatable to those who frequent the markets, are
choicest fruit to the walker. But it is remarkable that the wild
apple, which I praise as so spirited and racy when eaten in the
fields or woods, being brought into the house, has frequently a
harsh and crabbed taste. The Saunter-er's Apple not even the
saunterer can eat in the house. The palate rejects it there, as it
does haws and acorns, and demands a tamed one; for there you miss
the November air, which is the sauce it is to be eaten with.
Accordingly, when Tityrus, seeing the lengthening shadows, invites
Meliboeus to go home and pass the night with him, he promises him
mild apples and soft chestnuts. I frequently pluck wild apples of so
rich and spicy a flavor that I wonder all orchardists do not get a
scion from that tree, and I fail not to bring home my pockets full.
But perchance, when I take one out of my desk and taste it in my
chamber I find it unexpectedly crude,--sour enough to set a
squirrel's teeth on edge and make a jay scream.

These apples have hung in the wind and frost and rain till they have
absorbed the qualities of the weather or season, and thus are highly
seasoned, and they pierce and sting and permeate us with their
spirit. They must be eaten in season, accordingly,--that is, out-of-
doors.

To appreciate the wild and sharp flavors of these October fruits, it
is necessary that you be breathing the sharp October or November
air. The out-door air and exercise which the walker gets give a
different tone to his palate, and he craves a fruit which the