as running over with interesting things. Two
gates opened into it, one from near each corner of the yard. Between
these there was quite a wide level space, where mother fed the big
chickens and kept the hens in coops with little ones. She had to have
them close enough that the big hawks were afraid to come to earth, or
they would take more chickens than they could pay for, by cleaning
rabbits, snakes, and mice from the fields. Then came a double row of
prize peach trees; rare fruit that mother canned to take to county
fairs. One bore big, white freestones, and around the seed they were
pink as a rose. One was a white cling, and one was yellow. There was
a yellow freestone as big as a young sun, and as golden, and the
queerest of all was a cling purple as a beet.

Sometimes father read about the hairs of the head being numbered,
because we were so precious in the sight of the Almighty. Mother was
just as particular with her purple tree; every peach on it was counted,
and if we found one on the ground, we had to carry it to her, because
it MIGHT be sound enough to can or spice for a fair, or she had
promised the seed to some one halfway across the state. At each end of
the peach row was an enormous big pear tree; not far from one the
chicken house stood on the path to the barn, and beside the other the
smoke house with the dog kennel a yard away. Father said there was a
distinct relationship between a smoke house and a dog kennel, and
bulldogs were best. Just at present we were out of bulldogs, but
Jones, Jenkins and Co. could make as much noise as any dog you ever
heard. On the left grew the plum trees all the way to the south fence,
and I think there was one of every kind in the fruit catalogues.
Father spent hours pruning, grafting, and fertilizing them. He said
they required twice as much work as peaches.

Around the other sides of the orchard were two rows of peach trees of
every variety; but one cling on the north was just a little the best of
any, and we might eat all we wanted from any tree we liked, after
father tested them and said: "Peaches are ripe!" In the middle were
the apple; selected trees, planted, trimmed, and cultivated like human
beings. The apples were so big and fine they were picked by hand,
wrapped in paper, packed in barrels, and all we could not use at home
went to J. B. White in Fort Wayne for the biggest fruit house in the
state. My! but father was proud! He always packed esp