Pomeroy was a lover of nature, as I learned by many an interesting talk with him. He found time in his regular farming pursuits to study native trees and shrubs, and had forbidden his hired men to cut down any of the native nut trees on his 500 acre farm. But the nuts on the branch retrieved from darkness were specimens new to him and he could hardly wait for daylight to come to enable him to get acquainted with the tree which had invited his attention so rudely. Next morning Pomeroy learned that his new found arboreal friend was a Persian walnut. It was loaded and the wind storm of the night had covered the ground with shucked and unshucked nuts. By permission of the landlord, he gathered a peck of the Persian walnuts, wrapped O'Connor's and his own belongings in a newspaper and filled the carpet-bag with the nut treasures. Arriving home, the tourists stopped first at O'Connor's house. There they had to relate the experience of their great trip to an assemblage of the two families. The recounting of the Centennial wonders took until midnight. When Pomeroy picked up his carpet-bag to go home, it was empty! The children had made a discrete retirement after having consumed the entire peck of English walnuts, as the shells in the kitchen disclosed. Luckily for the youngsters, they were safe in bed and asleep.
The next day, according to the elder Pomeroy, little Albert who had not been at the O'Connor home the night before, heard the dolorous tale of the wonderful tree in Philadelphia, the gift of nuts and their weird disappearance. To confirm the sad story he picked up the carpet-bag, turned it inside out. Within a torn lining, he triumphantly extracted ten nuts. Child-like, he proceeded to sample them and had eaten three when his father rescued the remainder. Seven Philadelphia walnuts were planted in the yard, and, in due time there were seven slender, silver-grayish seedling trees. These were carefully staked, guarded and cultivated by Norman Pomeroy. Despite the caviling of the neighbors, who declared that a Persian walnut tree would not thrive and bear so far north, twelve years after planting the "lucky seven" reproduced their kind--from a dozen to two dozen large, handsome Persian or English walnuts. Today the seven Centennial trees are about two feet in diameter and about 60 feet high. And as to the value of the crop, one tree alone produced nuts which sold four years ago for $142.50.