394 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



during- the raid-afternoon, for this is a clear August day, and the sun 

 is working faithfully at his contract to ripen the wonderfully fine 

 corn growing in the valley. Besides, "Tom" isn't used to umbrellas 

 and won't let us carry them high enough to give him a peep at 

 them over the blinders. 



A timely arrival at West Salem gave opportunity to drive about 

 this very pretty and evidently prosperous typical village of a thous- 

 and souls — another guess. Their lives and those of the dwellers in 

 the rich valleys hereabouts have fallen, verily, in pleasant places. 



Late afternoon found us beyond La Crosse, and over the river 

 speeding northward along this waterside way to our night's des- 

 tination, the home of Pres. Underwood, at Lake City. I should 

 delight to picture that twilight ride in and out along the great 

 river, the wonderful lights upon the water ever changing and 

 shifting as our train changes direction in its rapid flight, 

 and the shadows deepening and widening, until only the sum- 

 mits of the eastern bluffs catch the g-low of the declining sun 

 and the reflection on sky and water repeated back and forth 

 in varying shade alone remains. At length the veil of night settles 

 about us, and we are glad to alight at the home of our host, verily 

 satiated with the pleasures of the day. 



Six-thirty the next morning, and we are rolling along up the 

 valley behind Lake City and longing for the coming- climb up the 

 bluffs just ahead, that we may get out of the chilly fog which hangs 

 around the early morning near the river. Our party of three is in- 

 creased to four by the addition of J. Cole Doughty, who, you will re- 

 member, told us last winter "How to run a Nursery." By perusing- 

 that article, which you will find in an earlier number of our maga- 

 zine, you will see that he has some curious ideas on the subject, but 

 he knows more about the business than he saw fit to tell, judging- 

 from the nursery he has something to do with running. We are 

 riding fast today, as Mr. Underwood has the lines, and these are his 

 "reliables." The bluffs are soon surmounted, and mile after mile 

 slips rapidly by as we cover this high but rich farming country. 

 No wild land here, every foot is in use, and judging- by the 

 "improvements" in sight the results are eminently satisfactory. 

 Up hill and down, a steady pull brings us at early noon to Ham- 

 mond, a way station on the narrow gauge in the narrower valley 

 of the Zumbro, where the bluffs come so close and wobble so badly 

 there is not room for a track of more imposing dimensions. We in- 

 tend here to inquire the whereabouts of Sidney Corp, when lo, he 

 appears riding a load of apples from the very orchard we have come 

 so many miles to see. 



A mile and a half west of Hammond and one hundred and fifty 

 feet above it (more guessing) lies the homestead of Mr. Corp. Com- 

 ing here in an early day when neighbors were scarce and land was 

 plenty, this pioneer couple made their home in this favored spot 

 and by industry and careful management have gained themselves 

 a competence. In this respect, however,he is not unlike many other 

 worthy Minnesotans in his neighborhood, but in the fact that at an 

 early day he planted and reared successfully an apple orchard, he 



