You might call one _Malus oculata_; another _M. Iridis_; _M. cum parvuli dæmonis oculis_, or Imp-eyed; Blue-Jay Apple, or _M. corvi cristati_; Wood-Dell Apple (_M. silvestri-vallis_); Field-Dell Apple (_M. campestri-vallis_); Meadow Apple (_M. pratensis_); Rock Meadow Apple (_saxopratensis_); Partridge or Grouse Apple or bud [_sic_]; Apple of the Hesperides (_Malus Hesperidum_); Woodside Apple; Wood Apple (_M. silvatica_); the Truant’s Apple (_M. cessatoris_); Saunterer’s Apple (_M. erronis vel vagabundi_); the Wayside Apple (_M. trivialis_); Beauty of the Air (_decus aëris_); December-eating; Frozen-thawed (_gelato-soluta_ or _gelata regelata_); the Concord Apple (_M. Concordiensis_); the Brindled Apple; Wine of New England (_M. vinosa_); the Chickaree Apple; the Green Apple (_M. viridis_); the Dysentery or Cholera-morbus Apple.[178] Distinctly related things are strangely near in _fact_, brush one another with their jackets. Perchance this window-seat in which we sit discoursing Transcendentalism, with only Germany and Greece stretching behind our minds, was made so deep because this was a few years ago a garrison-house, with thick log walls, bullet-proof, behind which men sat to escape the wild red man’s bullet and the arrow and the tomahawk, and bullets fired by Indians are now buried in its walls. Pythagoras seems near compared with them. _May 24. Saturday._ Our most glorious experiences are a kind of regret. Our regret is so sublime that we may mistake it for triumph. It is the painful, plaintively sad surprise of our Genius remembering our past lives and contemplating what is possible. It is remarkable that men commonly never refer to, never hint at, any crowning experiences when the common laws of their being were unsettled and the divine and eternal laws prevailed in them. Their lives are not revolutionary; they never recognize any other than the local and temporal authorities. It is a regret so divine and inspiring, so genuine, based on so true and distinct a contrast, that it surpasses our proudest boasts and the fairest expectations. My most sacred and memorable life is commonly on awaking in the morning. I frequently awake with an atmosphere about me as if my unremembered dreams had been divine, as if my spirit had journeyed to its native place, and, in the act of reëntering its native body, had diffused an elysian fragrance around. The Genius says: “Ah! That is what you were! That is what you may yet be!” It is glorious for us to be able to regret even such an existence. A sane and growing man revolutionizes every day. What institutions of man can survive a morning experience? A single night’s sleep, if we have indeed slumbered and forgotten anything and grown in our sleep, puts them behind us like the river Lethe. It is no unusual thing for him to see the kingdoms of this world pass away.[179] * * * * *