Some are ripe at twenty, like human Jargonelles, and must be made the most of, for their day is soon over.

Some come into their perfect condition late, like the autumn kinds, and they last better than the summer fruit.

And some, that, like the Winter-Nelis, have been hard and uninviting until all the rest have had their season, get their glow and perfume long after the frost and snow have done their worst with the orchards.

Beware of rash criticisms; the rough and stringent fruit you condemn may be an autumn or a winter pear, and that which you picked up beneath the same bough in August may have been only its worm-eaten windfalls.

Milton was a Saint-Germain with a graft of the roseate Early-Catherine.