170 ABC OF STRAWBERRY CULTURE. 



no success with machinery, or any thing else in the line of 

 progress and civilization, to be compared with the success that 

 attends the man who has his own children so much interested 

 in all his work on the farm that they find more delight in his 

 companionship than anywhere else. You see, it was vacation 

 time, so the children could be with their father from morning 

 till night. The good mother told me, while we were eating 

 dinner, that the little girl kept wishing and hoping that some- 

 thing would hinder the hired man from coming the day they 

 were going to plant, so she could just ride on that machine all 

 day and put the pieces of potato one by one into those magic 

 cups. I began making some inquiry in regard to the family, 

 as I looked from one bright little face to another. Cousin Fenn 

 replied, "There are just five, and the oldest (the little girl who 

 dropped the potatoes) sits there feeding the youngest some 

 bread and milk." You see, she knew how to help her mamma 

 by feeding the baby, just as well as she knew how to help make 

 that complicated machine a success in planting potatoes. I 

 told them I should miss my train unless I were in Akron by 3 

 o'clock ; but I had to see the potatoes down cellar again. And, 

 by the way, that big crop of Monroe Seedlings was planted the 

 last week in June, instead of the first, as I have had it in some 

 of my writings. When I did get started I just made the Victor 

 Flyer "fly," for sure; but I reached the station ten minutes 

 too late. I did not care much, however, for I can pretty nearly 

 keep up with a good many of our branch-railway trains. There 

 was another train two hours later ; and I decided it would be 

 much more to my liking to spend the time at Fairlawn, Summit 

 Co. I found my friend, C. W. Frank, enjoying himself among 

 his crops, at high-pressure gardening. We got around to the 

 strawberry-patch in a little while, and then I ate ever so many 

 more. Just as I was getting ready to go over to the depot, his 

 sister announced that supper was ready, and that I must have 

 some "strawberries and cream." I told them that I should 

 "get left " again, and it was Saturday night, and our boys 

 doubtless needed me sadly to help them wind up their straw- 

 berry-picking of the day ; but friend Frank said he had just 

 been over to the station, and the agent said the train could not 

 possibly come, along sooner than 45 minutes ; but just as we 

 were half through our merriment with strawberries and cream, 

 the whistle blew. I sprang for my wheel ; but the boys had 

 been riding, and the handle-bar was twisted. I was left again, 

 an d I want to tell you why I got left this time. The station 



