The Apple Tree

A unique street is this endless highway of New York City, which was once but an insignificant Indian trail tipping the rocky ridge that constituted the backbone of Manhattan Island, and was used by the Manahatas when making their peregrinations to and from the sea.

A romantic history has this old thoroughfare from its aboriginal days down to these, its most civilized and cosmopolitan period, and proud is the city of this ancient cradle of new york for broadway antedates even the days of henry hudson the time from which almost everything pertaining to the metropolis is reckoned indeed broadway antedates european highways for while europe boasts of her old roads made centuries back when civilization commenced to emerge from the dark ages new york can go the old world one better broadway always was skipping history, passing the days when Manhattan Island was sold for $24, passing the days of Dutch and British rule, of the period when colonial society centered on lower Broadway, when Lord Cornwallis, Lord Howe, and Sir Henry Clinton, Talleyrand, General Gates, Benedict Arnold, and other celebrities lived there, when President Washington, during his short sojourn in the city, finding Cherry Hill, now the Manhattan terminus of the Brooklyn Bridge, too far out in the country to enable him to be in the social swim, moved down nearly opposite Wall Street, and passing scores of other interesting and important events in the street's national, municipal, commercial, and social history.

We take it as it is today.

What a place Broadway is, and what a vast amount of entertainment can be gained by a visit to it.

there

have

always been many for whom the contents of the unconscious possessed a greater reality than the things of the outer world the history of human thought

bears witness to both realities

Two hundred pages of stuff for the intelligence, very little for the heart, nothing for the soul.

Almost daunted, I began the next story, The Apple Tree, and very soon I became enchanted, lost in a real love story, a love story most beautifully told.

The atmosphere and surroundings perfectly rendered, a great landscape, the English country in spring magically represented.

Spring was a revelation to him this year.

Megan, he sighed out, and let her go.

In the utter silence a blackbird shouted.

Then the girl seized his hand, put it to her cheek, her heart, her lips, kissed it passionately, and fled away among the mossy trunks of the apple trees, till they hid her from him.

The dreadful tragedy of preferring a commonplace girl to a lyric love is brought out, it is true, but not realised so successfully.