incurving petals spreading and growing big, the stamens, about twenty, straightening up and lengthening their filaments that are attached on the flower-rim; the big light yellow anthers shedding pollen; the five green styles in the center. In some flowers the styles do not develop, and we have one reason why many flowers are sterile.

The flower-clusters differ much among themselves, in size of parts, number of flowers, color; on some trees the flowers appear in advance of most of the leafage, but usually they are coincident with the leaves. Sometimes the flower-stems or peduncles are branched, bearing two or three flowers, and in that case there may be a small green leaf or bract where the fork arises. The placing of the petals in the bud at the epoch of expansion may differ in two flowers on the same tree. One petal may stand guard outside the others and free from them, both edges uncovered, while the remaining petals are spiral with one edge under and one edge over; or there may be two guard petals, one on either side; or sometimes all the petals may be spiral, one margin out, one margin in; in some cases all the petals stand free as the flower is expanding, with no margin interlapping. Sometimes one petal is missing, and again the petals may be six.

This infinite variety within the bonds of so great regularity lends a subtle charm to natural objects, that is wholly absent in man's perfected machine-work. Man aims at uniformity, two and two alike; nature aims at endless difference, every object or even every member of an object having its own character. Much of man's energy is expended in trying to overcome the diverseness of nature.

Gradually and slowly the flower balloons enlarge and puff themselves up, the petals standing together at their tips; all the variety is united into a harmony of exuberance, color and form; then one day there is a shower of genial rain, a warm sun, birds in the air, bees released, grasses soft and lush, and behold! the apple-tree is in bloom,—a great heavenly mound of white and pink exhaling a faint delicious breath. Then the pulses stir, the dogs bark at the edges of the wood, the fields call, the scented winds lead on forever.

IV

THE WEEKS BETWEEN THE FLOWER AND THE FRUIT

The petals expand broadly, usually losing most of their pink. The blade is oblong and rounded at the end, at first cupped and then nearly flat, three-fourths of an inch long, narrowed at the base into a short stem-like part and usually hairy there, the edges perhaps wavy but entire. The expanse of the flower may be one and one-half to two inches. The brush of stamens, erect in the center, sheds its pollen and the anthers collapse.

Then the petals fall, like flakes of snow, borne often by the wind. There remain the stout woolly flower-stems an inch or more long and bearing minute dry bracts, with the young fruit at the summit topped by the five recurving woolly sepals and the pencil of stamens and styles. The bloom being gone, the flowering system of the apple is thenceforth little observed. Not until the fruit begins to color do we come back to the apple-tree to look at it closely; yet in these intervening weeks some of the most interesting transformations take place, and on the exact observance of them depends to a large extent one's success in the rearing and saving of a good crop of apples.

Here is the flower of the apple-tree (Fig. 3). It is a comely blossom, fragrant and pinky white, flatly spread to the sky, carrying the spirit of the cool of the spring. What concerns us now, however, is the cluster of stamens and pistils in the center, for these organs are directly concerned in the production of the fruit. The petals soon fall, but the remains of these interior organs persist, even unto the ripening of the fruit.

The anther is attached at the back of its base or middle to the top of the filament in the suture separating the two large cells. These anther-cells split along the outer margins, releasing the pollen-grains.

4. Longitudinal section of the flower.

In the center of the ring of stamens are the five style-branches, which are united at the base into a short hairy column; the column is borne on the ovary, which is sunken deep into the receptacle or stem (Fig. 4). It is down these style-branches that the pollen-tube passes on its way to the ovules or embryo seeds. The top of the style is expanded into a cupped stigma on which are many glutinous points. One can observe the browning and ripening of the stigma after pollen has been deposited by wind, bees or other agencies. When the ovules are fertilized, the forming fruit enlarges regularly unless it meets with misfortune or is crowded out for lack of room and nourishment.

If one cuts across the ovary or embryo fruit below the recurving sepals, one will see under a lens that it is neatly five-celled (Fig. 5). In each cell are two ovules; these, if all goes well, will ripen into ten seeds. These five cells comprise most of the diameter in the cross-section: but as the ovary enlarges and the young fruit grows, one may see that the inner part comprising the cells begins to have a character of its own and to be differentiated from the surrounding flesh.

5. Cross-section of the ovary.

The "blossom" falls. In reality only the petals fall. What is left is well shown in Fig. 6. Here remain the upstanding stamens with the empty anthers, and in the center one could see the five styles if the specimen were in hand. Here also are the calyx-lobes, widely spreading and even recurved. The photograph for Fig. 6 was taken May 3. On May 17 another cluster was photographed from the same tree (Fig. 7). Three of the flowers have produced sturdy young apples. The stems or pedicels have become stouter, and they begin to spread. Note that the calyx now is closed, the old stamens protruding, a circumstance that will have special significance when we become acquainted with the codlin-moth. Note also that one flower has failed, and remains as it was two weeks earlier; it will soon fall. The young apples begin to take shape. They show a glow of red on the cheek. They are fuzzy all over. One of them is already injured on one side, having been stung by a curculio or other insect: there are keen senses about the apple-tree.