690 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Sept. 15. 



thing, made them look exactly like cherries. 

 The shape of the fruit, and the brilliant scarlet 

 also, said that they were cherries; but the 

 owner declared they were plums. He says they 

 were propagated from suckers, so they are nat- 

 ural fruit — no grafting nor budding He says 

 the variety has been callid s-1 o-w; but he 

 ti'inks th:it is not the way it is spelled. He 

 says he thinks the varicLv has been catalogued, 

 but he has not heard much about them of late. 

 Now, if any of our readers can tt 11 me more 

 about this plum I shall be very greatly obliged. 

 They are very late— coming after all other 

 plums are gone, or pretty much so. We found 

 a few that were prematurely ripe, and the 

 flavor seemed to be almost exactly that of some 

 of the choicest wild plums that are sometimes 

 found in the woods. The doctor is going to 

 bring me some of them when they are fully 

 ripe; and I would give more for a row of these 

 plum-trees than for almost any other plum I 

 ever saw. They may be "slow " in name, but 

 they would not be slow a bit if I had them grow- 

 ing on my place. 



As I expected, friend Terry and his son Robert 

 were digging the potatoes. Both Thorough- 

 breds and Freen^aiis were doing grandly — that 

 is, considering the icriible washouts on the side 

 hill they had < xperienced. His potatoes this 

 year are on rolling ground. A good deal of the 

 soil was washed away from the potatoes on the 

 hillsides, and quite a good many at the bottom 

 of the hills were covered with mud until they 

 were killed out entirely. In order to get the 

 most potatoes from a small amount of seed from 

 Thoroughbreds, they were planted 40 inches 

 apart each way. so, of course, the yield per acre 

 will be much less than the Freemans planted 

 about 30 inches apart, and say 14 inches apart 

 in the row. Notwithstanding the tremendous 

 wetness, he has no rott<^n potatoes. And this 

 reminds me that, down on our creek bottom, 

 half a dozen varieties of potatoes where they 

 were covered with water have rotted entirely. 

 Before the rains came there were potatoes large 

 enough to make a very fair yield; but when we 

 came to dig them they were rotte'1 and gone, 

 with nothing but the skins to indicate wliere 

 the potatofs had been. Now, one patch of 

 Thoroughbreds was under water more than 

 any other of the rest, and I had given ihem up 

 as lost, for the water killed the tops, and I sup- 

 posed they would not be worth digging. Im- 

 agine my surprise when we found the potatoes 

 were all perfect — no rot, not even a bit of scab. 

 This was where we applied the sulphur; but 

 we also applied sulphur to the others that rot- 

 ted so badlv. 



n Wilbur Fenns potatoes were late as usual. 

 He has one field of 18 acres that I pronounced 

 the handsomest large field of potatoes I ever 

 saw in my life. They are Sir Williams and 

 Monroe Seedlings. They were all planted in 

 July. There is not a bit of blight, no bugs, 

 nothing to mar the beauty of the foliage. We 

 went over the field, putting in our fingers here 

 and there to see what the prospect was for a crop. 

 I asked him if he had any variety of potatoes 

 that would cook dry and mealy when half 

 grown. You know the catalog men. or a great 

 many of them, claim their new variety is al- 

 ways mealy and dry, even though they" are not 

 bigger than hickorynuts. Mr. Fenn replied: 



"Cousin Amos. I rather think the Sir Wil- 

 liams will be nice to cook just as they are;' 

 and he pulled out an armful of fine specimens 

 so green that the skins would slip almost if you 

 touched them. He carried them into the house, 

 asking his good wife to prepare them for dinner. 



announced, " Dinner is ready !" and, as sure as 

 you are alive, there was a heaping bowlful of 

 Sir William potatoes with the skins bursted 

 open almost like pop corn. Wasn't I glad I 

 was ofi from the beefsteak diet! When I was 

 asked to return thanks, I tell you I felt that I 

 could do it honestly from the bottom of my 

 heart. 



Cousin Fenn has a family of three boys and 

 three girls, and all of them know all about 

 raising potatoes. I declare! I had forgotten 

 that the youngest was only nine weeks old, so 

 we shall have to make that exception. But it 

 is to me a beautiful sight to see such a united 

 family as this one. And. by the way, I have 

 before spoken of their girl Ellen, now 12 years 

 old, who rides on the potato-planter and fixes 

 the pieces so there is not any miss in the whole 

 field. After the planting was done, there was 

 once in a while a vacancy, and her father said 

 she must have rais-sed a few hills. 



" No, father, 1 am sure I did not miss. You 

 just dig down and see if you do not find the 

 piece of potato right there in place. It is the 

 fault of the potato and no fault of mine that it 

 did not come up." 



Sure enough, they found the piece of potato. 

 Her grandfather. Dennis Fenn. declares he 

 v\ouli1 give her $1 .50 a day to ride on the ma- 

 chine, and put the pieces in the cups. He says 

 she is worth more than any hired man they can 

 get. 



Now, friends, here is another opening for 

 women to help in the farmwork. Her father 

 fixed a little awning over her seat, so she was 

 not obliged to work in the full blaze of the hot 



In due time his bright little girl that superin 



tended the dropping of that whole 18- acre field i, from the' mother-plant 



THE IMPROVED P>OBBINS POTATO-PLANTEK. 



sun." Since we have had so much to say about 

 this new planter I think I will give you a pic- 

 ture of it, showing the cups, etc. 



Somehow or other it seems almost impossible 

 for me to take a wheelride twenty miles from 

 home without getting lost. During this last 

 trip I took a back road because it happened to be 

 better; but it took me through a new part of 

 the country. There were no guide-boards, and 

 pretty soon I was at a loss to know which way 

 to turn to strike T. B. Terry's. I took the 

 wrong road, as it transpired, and by and by I 

 was astonished to find myself close to the home 

 of Matthew Crawford. Just as soon as he saw 

 me and my wheel he expressed his pleasure by 

 saying he had something special he wanted me 

 to see. Friend C. has little beds for starting 

 strawberries, and for his potted plants, much 

 like my own, except that they are only 4 feet 

 wide. He started this way, and has therefore 

 got all his beds made this width. Instead of 

 having them in a compact group he has them 

 here and there in different points all around his 

 house. For potted plants waiting for orders he 

 plunges them into beds up to the brim, and then 

 shades them with frames covered with cotton 

 until they get " weaned " after being detached 

 Then choice varieties 



