746 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Oct. 1. 



ON THE WHEEL, AMONG THE POTATO-GBOWERS. 



September 14 I opened my eyes in a pleasant 

 little room in the home of my cousin. D. E. 

 Fenn, of Tallmadge, O. The first thing was to 

 get my drink of hot water. Then my cousin 

 and I took a seat in his easy buggy (for he is 

 somewhat of an invalid too), and we rode 

 around his potato-field. Perhaps the soil in 

 the vicinity of Tallmadge. Summit Co., O., is 

 the ideal potato ground — a loam partly of clay, 

 with just enough sand and gravel to make it 

 just right after it has been supplied with 

 humus and tlie requisite fertility. The field in 

 question was, in the spring, a heavy growth of 

 clover; but, clover seed being scarce, the seed 

 sown was from some dislant point; and all at 

 once cousin Fenn became aware that a weed he 

 knew by reputation years ago, but had not 

 seen for some time, was coming up thick all 

 through his clover, and just getting ready 

 to blo-*som. The only way to rid the farm of it 

 entirely was to turn it all deep under ground — 

 clovor, weeds, and all. Even the clover was 

 just coming into bloom. His sturdy German 

 hired man did the job complete, plowing deep, 

 and then working the ground up till it was fine 

 and mellow. I think it was late in June when 

 the potatoes were planted— Monroe Seedlings 

 and four barrels of th(^ new Craig Seedling, the 

 latter furnished by your humble servant. The 

 potatoes were well cared for, and they were a 

 sight to behold, especially when contrasted 

 with the field of a neighbor over the fence who 

 "farmed it"' in the good old-fashioned way. 

 And, by the way, there would not have been 

 any bugs of any account on that field of about 

 20 acres had not this same neighbor kept sup- 

 plying a reinforcement from his own field. The 

 hired man had picked them ofT on the side of 

 the potato-patch as fast as they got over and 

 through the fence. While cousin Fenn's Craig 

 Seedlings are making a good show, they do not 

 compare with the two acres at the Home of the 

 Honey-bees. We got back just in time for my 

 beefsteak. You see, I manage to find it when 

 mealtime comes around, no matter where I am. 



After breakfast the wheel and I lighted out 

 for cousin Wilbur's, a son of D. E. Fenn. He 

 was milking the cows, so I talked with the 

 children till he had finished. By the way, be- 

 fore I reached the house I climbed over the 

 fence so as to walk through— no. I did not walk 

 through, because it would have been too much 

 work; but I rode my wheel alongside of the 

 handsomest-looking field of potatoes I think I 

 ever saw in my life. Now, hold on a bit. 

 There was not a longer and stronger growth than 

 on my own Craig Seedlings at home— no, not as 

 much; but the foliage was all young, thrifty, 

 and of that light, tender, dazzling green that 

 reminds one of springtime. You will remember 

 I told you that, on the 4th of July, I saw a 

 hundred bushels of Monroe Seedlings piled up 

 in his cellar, almost as hard and firm as they 

 were when dug. Well, on the 5th of Julv he 

 planted several acres of these potatoes. They 

 came right up; and, as if realizing that time 

 was precious, they just put in their best licks. 

 The flea-beetles had gone, and there was not 

 any neighbor near by who had potatoes the old- 

 fashioned way. so there were not any Colorado 

 bugs to bother them. Every leaf was clean 

 and perfect— no perforations, no mutilation by 

 insects of any sort. But the vines were knee- 



high, and just about covered the ground; in 

 fact, he had decided not to cultivate them any 

 more, as the horses did so much damage tramp- 

 ing the vines. 



'• Cousin Wilbur, have you ever planted pota- 

 toes by the acre as late as this before ? " 



"Only once. Then I planted them the Oth 

 of July in>tead of the .5th;* and I got them into 

 the cellar all right, without injury from frost, 

 other than that the tops were killed befon^ they 

 had done growing; but the potatoes kept over 

 winter all the better, and kept through until 

 July again all the better." 



He did not plant all of that 100 bushels, for 

 good eating potatoes were scarce and high dur- 

 ing the fore part of July, and he sold them for 

 table use rather than plant them. His Craigs 

 were planted much earlier, because they need a 

 long season in which to reach maturity. His 

 acre of Craigs looked about like his father's. 



I told the frit^nds I must hurry ott', as I ex- 

 pected to visit Terry, then Chamberlain, then 

 go to Cleveland, call on my doctor, and reach 

 home before night. My good friends thought 

 it seemed almost incredible that I, a sick man, 

 should undertake so much in a single day. 



Ten miles or more on the wheel, and I ran 

 right down into the lot where Terry himself was 

 digging his Freemans with the potato-digger. 

 Three men were picking them up; and his son 

 was kept rather busy looking after the empty 

 boxes, loading up the filled ones, and keeping 

 the whole work going on without any hitch. I 

 remembered my experience, given in the ABC 

 of Potato Culture, in bothering a man when he 

 is running a potato-digger, and a gang of men 

 who were getting them up and moving them 

 into the cellar at the same time. Terry's pota- 

 toes were ripe, and the vines dead. You see. he 

 works with a comparatively early potato like 

 the Freeman. New Queen, and others, that he 

 may get in wheat, „after the potatoes. There 

 has been some complaint about the Freemans 

 being small. They were not small on Terry's 

 ground, I can tell you, even though he has in 

 his locality suffered from the drouth almost as 

 badly as anybody. His potatoes were all of 

 nice shape— clean and handsome. It was time 

 for my hot water, and I begged to be allowed 

 to go into the kitchen. A steaming tea-kettle 

 stood right on the stove, and I was permitted 

 to help myself. Friend Terry explained to his 

 wife that I was on a hot-water " diet." 



" Why! But. Mr. Root, you don't live on hot 

 water and nothlnq else ?" 



"Oh, no! But I do live on hot water and 

 beefsteak." 



" Well, we have plenty of hot water; but. 

 dear me! where are we going to get beefsteak 

 for voiir dinner, o ut here in the country?" 



1 laughingly explained to them my program 

 for the day, and said that it was already time 

 for me to be off. I rather expected that I 

 should find them in the field, digging potatoes; 



*Ai«;er selling: out all our potatoes I looked over 

 our cellars and discovered a few odds and ends on the 

 12th day of July last. There was also about a peck 

 of Craig- Seedling-s kept for possible tardy custom- 

 ers. A piece of ground where early peas had been 

 taken off was selected, and potatoes planted on the 

 13th of July, and now the vines almost cover the 

 ground. There certainly will be a tolerably fair 

 crop. Years ago I used to try this late planting, 

 and fail every time. I can not understand why Wil- 

 bur and I succeed just now unless it is because of the 

 abundant fall rains and late warm weather we have 

 been having for the last two or three years; or pos- 

 sibly we are learning how, and have got our ground 

 in better shape for fall potatoes. But I tell you it 

 is fun to see them growing, and making great tu- 

 bers so rapidly during the cool pleasant days of the 

 latter part of September. 



