Ten Thousand a Year 249 



down into the very coarse gravel; laying them up 

 carefully with flat stone like an ordinary water- 

 well, and covering them with large stones, or, in 

 later years, with cement tops, below the plow- 

 point. To this well he laid tile drains and so kept 

 every foot of his land thoroughly ventilated and 

 dry. 'T*ll see to the watering if it doesn't rain,'* 

 he would say, which meant the constant stirring by 

 the cultivator, and not a plant on his farm was 

 ever known to wilt for lack of moisture. 



He was rather a heroic trimmer of tree, bush, or 

 vine, but never was the excided limb thicker than 

 one's finger. ''Cut them when they are little and 

 they don't feel it, " he said to me one day when I 

 remarked on his ceaseless trimming. ''All you 

 want is sunshine and a penknife," he continued; 

 and he let more light into the tree. "Any time 

 when your knife is sharp," was his answer to my 

 question as to when to trim. So he had no special 

 time, like his neighbors, but all times. 



Just how he could detect varieties before they 

 blossomed or fruited was a mystery to me; he 

 was bom with the master-fruit-grower's eye. No 

 nurseryman could deceive him and none tried, — 

 the second time. Yet, despite his unerring skill in 

 distinguishing varieties, he never propagated them. 

 "I'm not running a nursery, but a fruit-farm." 

 There was more money for him in raising fruit 

 than in raising vines or trees. 



So famed was his farm, nurser3mien competed to 

 sell him choicest fruit-stock, for his word was their 



