And pears--fruit of the finest flavor and enormous size--" "Yes," said Pomona.

"I seen them in the book.

But they must grow on a ground-vine.

No tree couldn't hold such pears as them." Here Euphemia reproved Pomona's forwardness, and I invited the tree-agent to get down out of the tree.
"Thank you," said he; "but not while that dog is loose.

If you will kindly chain him up, I will get my book, and show you specimens of some of the finest small fruit in the world, all imported from the first nurseries of Europe--the Red-gold Amber Muscat grape,--the--" "Oh, please let him down!" said Euphemia, her eyes beginning to sparkle.
I slowly walked toward the tramp-tree, revolving various matters in my mind.