X11E FLORAL WOULD AXD GA11DEN GUIDE. 



223 



potatoes are brought on the ground, 

 the line is stretched, and the master 

 and man fire away to "dib 'em in." 

 Take up a few and look at them — did 

 you ever see such muck? "Muck, 

 sir, what d'ye mean — that's as good a 

 hit o' seed as I ever seed in my life." 

 Very likely, hut to me it appears that 

 " this ere seed" has been stowed away 

 anyhow all the winter, and at last the 



pretty good size and plenty of them, 

 but they have not been stored away 

 a month, before they begin to smell, 

 and, indeed, they are diseased and 

 no mistake ! Oh, yes ! one half at least 

 have turned black, and are oozing 

 with rank moisture, and every one 

 touched with it soon goes black also, 

 so they are sorted over, the sound 

 ones got rid of quickly, and there ends 



whole lot has sprouted. They have, j the potatoe season. Would you think 

 moreover, sprouted in the dark, and it, my friend will go to work in just 



the sprouts are long white delicat 

 things, like miniature asparagus, or 

 rather like patients just turned out of 

 a hospital — very pale, and not strong 

 enough to stand upright. Seed, indeed ! 

 seed of corruption ! 



Well, with this same seed of corrup- 

 tion, master and man fire away at 

 dibbing, and very regularly they do 

 the work, too ; they hit the distances 

 as nicely as Captain Knox hits wood- 

 cocks ; but, observe, when Captain Knox 

 hits a woodcock, down it comes; he 

 doesn't merely break a leg or a wing, 

 and then leave it to perish ; but the fel- 

 lows can't keep their seed together, and 

 as they drop them into the holes, the 

 thin waxen spray, which they call 

 " shoots from the /ties," gets snapped 

 off, and, of course, when the tubers 

 begin to grow, they must make fresh 

 shoots, though the poor things are 

 already as soft as puddings, and as fit 

 to sprout again as any one of those 

 hospital patients would be to run a 

 match of hurdle jumping. Well, in they 

 go, and by and by, they appear above 

 ground, are carefully moulded up, and 

 the master says, "What d'ye think of 

 them taters now sir ; look well don't 

 'em." "Yes," says I, "they look green, 

 — almost as green as you are." (aside.') 

 Time speeds, the tops get brown, then 

 black ; autumn rains fall, and some 

 time towards the end of September, 

 the master says, "The arm'sdead, taters 

 must be nice and ripe now — take 'em 

 up next week." Well, all that week 

 it rains a soaker; next week more rain, 

 and the haulm really does look dead ; 

 it is, in fact, mouldy ; but in goes the 

 fork and out come the potatoes, on 



the same way the next spring, and, 

 maybe, not expect a similar result? 

 Why, there is not one single operation 

 in the whole of his course of culture 

 that is right, and 1 should not have 

 thought to describe it, did I not see, 

 every season, such a course almost 

 every where adopted ; and, perhaps, you 

 my friend and reader, may be one of 

 those who practice it. If so, turn not 

 aside from reproof, but read on. 



Now, then, how shall we grow 

 potatoes ? We must have the ground 

 ready first, and the piece to be planted 

 with them is a nice crumbly fresh 

 loam ; it lies a little higher and drier 

 than the rest, and it has not been once 

 swamped all the winter ; indeed, it 

 can't be on account of its good position 

 and drainage. That is the reason why 

 we put out cabbage on it last autumn, 

 and as we manured heavily then, the 

 ground is now just as rich as we 

 require it, and not a scrap of manure 

 will be laid on. The cabbage was all 

 cleared off by the first of February, 

 for the sharp frost made them valuable 

 at market ; so we killed two birds with 

 one stone — sold the cabbage well, 

 and got the land double digged, and 

 ridged up just in time for a second 

 frost to go through it. Indeed, a good 

 deal of it was ridged up by the middle 

 of January, when we began to re- 

 move the cabbages. About the fifteenth 

 of February we shall plant, but not 

 with a dibber, oh no ! we don't squash 

 our potatoes into holes for the wet to 

 lodge round them, we knock down 

 the ridges, and dig the land over one 

 good spade deep, and trench in the 

 seed as we go, dropping them into the 

 the very first fine day that happens, trenches at regular distances, and 



and splendid they look upon my word, 

 except that "there's one here and 

 there diseased." Oh, yes ! they are of 



covering lightly with the loose pow- 

 dery stuff, that has had the frost clean 

 through its bones. We leave all smooth 



