Come out in the orchard this September day, under the low-bowed peach-
trees, where great downy-cheeked peaches almost drop into our hands. Sit
on the grassy bank with me, and I will show you the peach-tree's
treasure-box.
What does the peach-tree regard as most precious? If it could speak in
words, it would tell you its seed is the one thing for which it cares
most; for which it has worked ever since spring, storing food, and
drinking in sunshine. And it is so dear and valued, because, when the
peach-tree itself dies, this seed, its child, may still live on, growing
into a beautiful and fruitful tree; therefore, the mother tree cherishes
her seed as her greatest treasure, and has made for it a casket more
beautiful than Mrs. Williams's sandal-wood jewel-box.
See the great crack where this peach broke from the bough. We will pull
it open; this is opening the cover of the outside casket. See how rich
was its outside color, but how wonderfully beautiful the deep crimson
fibres which cling about the hard shell inside. For this seed cannot be
trusted in a single covering; moreover, the inner box is locked
securely, and, I am sorry to say, we haven't the key: so, if I would
show you the inside, we must break the pretty box, with its strong,
ribbed walls, and then at last we shall see what the peach-tree's
treasure-box holds.
Here, too, are the apples, lying on the grass at our feet; we will cut
one, for it too holds the apple-tree's treasure.
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