76 FARMING IT 



as cucumber, pumpkin, squash, toadstool, mush- 

 room, and mullein leaf. 



This worried me a good deal until my friend 

 Daniel informed me that provided I mowed the 

 growth before the seeds became ripe, I would 

 get a noble crop of hay the second year. 



A few days after this, and in the first week of 

 May, I noticed one morning that my tomato- 

 plants had suddenly wilted. I pulled one up and 

 examined the root for wire-worm, cut-worm or 

 other subterranean varmint that might have 

 preyed upon the damask of its cheek, but could 

 find nothing. Then I bent to my work, and on 

 my knees, examined them one by one with the 

 utmost care ; and before I got half down the first 

 row my search was rewarded by finding a striped 

 bug, evidently the potato -bug of contempora- 

 neous history. 



Certainly eternal vigilance is the price of a suc- 

 cessful market-garden. I saddled Polly and flew 

 down town, grossly violating the statutory reg- 

 ulations in respect to the speed limit of eques- 

 trians. 



I bought a little green package of Paris green, 

 and, remounting, flew back even faster. I mixed 

 up a pailful of the required consistency, and 

 showered the poor limp plants. Then I dressed 

 and went down town, anticipating a marked 

 change in the appearance of things on my return. 



