ectricity, but I cannot get a satisfactory
explanation. No trains were passing, there was no wind, the rime was
not thawing or falling off, and apparently there was nothing to
agitate either poles or wires.

This orchard was not a lucky one; it was too low, having only one flat
meadow between it and the brook, and therefore very liable to spring
frosts. I have seen the trees well past the blossoming stage, with
young plums as large as peas, which after two nights' sharp frost
turned black and fell off to such an extent that there was scarcely a
plum left; but I had a few very good crops which gave employment to a
number of additional hands besides my regular people.

A season came when the plum-trees in my new orchard were badly
attacked by the caterpillars of the winter-moth, but the cuckoos soon
found them out, and I could see half a dozen at once enjoying a
bountiful feast. When better plums are abundant the Pershore falls to
very low prices; I have sold quantities at 1s. or 1s. 3d. per pot of
72 pounds, at which of course there was a loss; but it is needless to
say that at such times the consumer never gets the benefit, 2d. a
pound being about the lowest figure at which they are ever seen on
offer in the shops.

The Victoria is a very superior plum to the Pershore, and a local plum
called Jimmy Moore is also a favourite. I believe this plum is very
similar to, if not identical with, one sold as Emperor; both it and
the Victoria nearly always made good prices and bore well. The
Victoria, especially, was so prolific that in some seasons, if not
carefully propped, every branch would be broken off by, the weight of
fruit, and the tree left a wreck. Not discouraged, however, it would
shoot out again and in a few years bear as well as ever.

My best plum was the greengage, rather a shy bearer but always in
demand. Living in a land of Goshen, like the Vale of Evesham, one gets
quite hypercritical (or "picksome," as the local expression is), and
scarcely cares to taste a fruit from a tree in passing; but I used to
visit my greengages at times when the pickers had done with them, for
they have to be gathered somewhat unripe to ensure travelling
undamaged. I often found, on the south side of the tree, a few that
had been overlooked which were fully ripe, beautifully mottled, full
of sunshine, and perfect in melting texture and ambrosial flavour.

For restocking old worn-out apple orchards, in Worcestershire at any
rate,