860 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Nov. 15. 



say its feet were too damp, and that it did not 

 have air enough. In fact, he had packed it 

 tight together, leaving only one main alley 

 through the center, and it was rotting to some 

 extent. The tops were wilting at the same 

 time. It looked a little like blight. I do not 

 know but the frost was a little too severe for it 

 before it was put inside; but this is certainly 

 true— that White Plume celery has not the vi- 

 tality and constitution of the dark green and 

 the red celeries. Mr. Atwood thought, how- 

 ever, it would be all right the way he put it up 

 for storing, for the fall market; and he is now 

 going to send wagons around from house to 

 house through the great city of Akron, and 

 close it out. At both ends of the building were 

 the Giant Pascal celery, which was keeping 

 just beautifully, and seemed to actually enjoy 

 the dampness and lack of sunlight. Friend At- 

 wood declares he has always had better luck in 

 leaving celery out until quite late. The greater 

 part of his crop, of course, is fixed for winter 

 right in the muck where it grows. He moves 

 six or eight rows up close together, banks the 

 soft black earth up all around them, and, final- 

 ly, almost clear over them, and they stand un- 

 harmed right outdoors. This soft muck will 

 keep out frost, when it is light and fine, almost 

 as well as stable manure; and during even the 

 most severe winter weather there is no trouble 

 in taking it out of the trenches after you break 

 through the crust of frost that forms on the 

 outside. 



I found cousin Wilbur just where I wanted to 

 see him. He was out in that nine-acre field of 

 Monroe Seedling potatoes. Four horses were 

 moving the Hoover digger, one man driving, 

 with a boy following after to wait on the driver, 

 throw potatoes out of the way that might be 

 covered when they came back, and, if I recol- 

 lect, six men were picking the potatoes up. I 

 expected something of those potatoes that had 

 not seen a bug or a bit of blight; and as they 

 are on upland, and rather sandy soil, they had 

 kept right on growing almost into November. 

 The yield was about 200 bushels per acre, of the 

 finest looking potatoes I ever saw spread out in 

 the field. I was astonished to find almost all of 

 them of a nice table size — very few small ones, 

 and almost no prongy potatoes, or those with a 

 little potato growing out at one side. I sup- 

 pose the variety and his method of manage- 

 ment had much to do with it. The ground was 

 just loamy enough so the potatoes tumbled out 

 bright and clean and handsome. I fell in love 

 with them at once. Now. here is a point that I 

 want you to observe: When I came into the 

 field every thing was going on like clockwork, 

 and those potatoes were being deposited in his 

 nice cellar in almost a steady stream; but, of 

 course. I had to stop and ask questions. Pretty 

 soon the team stopped, and could not go on un- 

 less the " boss of the ranch " gave directions. 

 Perhaps I might as well tell you that I got to 

 bantering him for a carload of potatoes, and, of 

 course, he could not very well neglect a chance 

 to sell a carload, even before they were taken 

 into the cellar. But there were several details 

 to be arranged about shipping, furnishing box- 

 es to put them in, etc.; and in a very few min- 

 utes the whole gang of workmen came to a 

 standstill. The moral is. be careful how you 

 bother a man when he is bossing a job that 

 requires half a dozi'u or more expert helpers. I 

 told him it was too bad, and so I made my visit 

 quite a hurried one. 



One thing that threw him ont occasionally, 

 was, they did not have quite enough potato- 

 boxes. I told you six men were picking up 

 potatoes. As fast as they get a load the team 

 comes around and the potatoes are set on the 

 wagon, and taken directly to the cellar. You 



can do this with a crop of potatoes that are 

 just ready to dig by the first of November. 

 The air is cool then, the potatoes are cool, 

 and friend Fenn assures me that he piles them 

 right into the cellar, even four feet deep. Under 

 such circumstances he carries them through 

 until the following May, or even up into June, 

 with scarcely a sprout and not a particle of 

 wilting. I saw the 100 bushels that he planted 

 in this field the last day of May. 



Before I started for home we looked into the 

 cellar, and saw how he unloaded. An inclined 

 plane made of strips of wood runs from the 

 wagon clear down to the bottom of the cellar. 

 The bushel boxes are set on this inclined plane, 

 on a sort of carrier. The man wiih the wagon 

 lets this down with a rope. Another one in the 

 cellar bottom pours them on to the pile. The 

 boxes are pulled up with the same arrange- 

 ment, and, without any lifting or lugging, the 

 load is disposed of very quickly. 



Farming doesn't pay I Doesn't it, though? 

 Friend Fenn is getting more for the [potatoes 

 that grew on this land than the land itself 

 would sell for. What do you think of that — 

 paying for a farm with the proceeds from a 

 single season ? and a regular farm crop at that! 

 You mav ask about the expense of growing this 

 crop. Well, it was not very expensive. The 

 only manure was clover and timothy — that is, 

 if I am correct; and the cultivation was all 

 done by horse power, the driver riding on the 

 cultivator. The potatoes were also planted 

 and dug by horse power. I do not know what 

 he values his farm at; but I do know that, 

 within less than a mile of his home, there is 

 land that can be bought for $40.00 an acre- 

 may be less than that; and what he is doing is 

 on a farm that was called, only a few years 

 ago, a poor rundown farm, and not of very 

 much account. 



High-pressure Gardening. 



BY A. I. ROOT. 



EATING POISONOUS MUSHKOOMS. 



A HINT AND A CAUTION. 



Mr. Root:—Jn Oct. 1st Gleanings you say, 

 "I do not see how people can be poisoned un- 

 less they eat very freely of the poisonous kind." 

 Now, on principle I should not wish to interfere 

 with anybody's orthodoxy — especially yours; 

 but about luushrooms. that is different. I am 

 interested in them for two reasons: First, I like 

 them— that is. the wholesome ones; and. sec- 

 ond, I have been poisoned with their imitation 

 once, which was certainly once too often. Shall 

 I tell you how it was ? 



I was living at the time in a village suburb of 

 Chicago — a university town — perhaps three- 

 fourths of a mile from the postoffice. I was, at 

 the time, alone. One morning I wished, for 

 some reason, to reach the early post, and went 

 before breakfast. My way lay through Univer- 

 sity Campus, part of which was well shaded 

 with forest-trees; and as I returned I spied, as 

 I thought, a group of mushrooms, and said to 

 myself, " How good these would be with my 

 breakfast! " Suiting action to thought, I gath- 

 ered three or four. When my breakfast was 

 about ready I peeled two of my mushrooms, 

 placrd them on a hot pan. and put a trifle of 

 butter and pepper and salt into the cup of each, 

 and left them to cook, anticipating a dish fit 

 for the gods; but, alas! it proved a dish cer- 

 tainly fit for none but gods. Before I had tast- 

 ed breakfast, a neighbor came in, with whom I 



