1858. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



451 



For the Netc England Farmer. 



A FINE FIELD OF POTATOES— DIGGING 

 AND PILING MUCK. 



Mr. Beown : — Dear Sir, — I have been much 

 interested to-day in viewing a field of ten acres 

 of potatoes. All things considered, the field is 

 a sight worthy the observation of any man at all 

 interested in the cultivation of land, and I think 

 may well receive a passing notice in the Farmer. 



The land is part of a tract of upland pasture, 

 heretofore closely fed by village cows, and in ordi- 

 nary condition. The soil is a yellow loam, some- 

 what mixed with cobble stcnes in places, but for 

 the most part tolerably free, and easy to work. Ear- 

 ly in April last, the land was plowed, harrowed, 

 and furrowed out one way, in rows three and a 

 half feet apart. Then it was manured in the hills, 

 with a compost of muck and ashes, — using, in all, 

 an hundred loads of compost, putting a shovel- 

 ful! in each hill. The hills were made three feet 

 apart in the rows. The potatoes were dropped 

 immediately upon the compost, and the planting 

 done between the fifteenth and twentieth of April. 



The muck was dug from the swanp two years 

 ago this summer, and placed in a heap on dry 

 ground, to dry and become rotten and fine. A 

 week or two previous to planting, it was drawn 

 upon the field and placed in four heaps, of twenty- 

 five loads each, at convenient distances for re- 

 loading 'and dropping into the hills ; and three 

 bushels of unleached ashes were mixed with each 

 cart-load of the muck, as it M'as being deposited 

 in the heaps. After lying a few days, the com- 

 post was shovelled over, and then it was ready 

 for use. 



The potatoes have from the first been very 

 thrifty and of stout growth. The tops now stand 

 about three feet high, and spread out laterally so 

 as to touch from row to row and pretty much 

 cover the ground ; and they have a deep green 

 color and perfectly healthy appearance every way. 

 The potatoes are already of good size for cook- 

 ing, and promise a good yield, — indeed, they are 

 now daily ])repared for the table. Any one, ob- 

 serving the perfect and large growth of the crop, 

 and considering the previous condition of the 

 land, must conclude that the compost of muck 

 and ashes is a valuable manure. My observa- 

 tions to-day so forcibly remind me of the value of 

 muck, that I can not forbear again urging its pre- 

 paration for tillage purposes, notwithstanding 

 that I have heretofore in the Farmer said so much 

 upon the subject. 



August and September are generally the most 

 favorable months for digging muck. Now then 

 is the time to get it out of the swamp and pile it 

 upon dry ground, in heaps accessible at all sea- 

 sons. It is always a convenience to have such a 

 deposit of vegetable matter to draw from, there 

 are so many ways in which the muck can be used 

 in the making of manure and cultivation of crops. 



The older the muck, before using it, the more 

 marked its good effects upon the crops. By lying 

 a year or two in a heap upon di-y ground, the 

 muck becomes dry, rotten and finely pulverized ; 

 the action of sun, frost and decomposition in a 

 good degree takes out the acids ; the muck is 

 lighter and freer to shovel, cart, and handle any 

 way ; it will be a more perfect absorbent of the 

 liquids and salts of manure ; and may be used in 



larger quantities, in proportion to the manure, 

 lime or ashes it is composted with, than would be 

 proper or profitable if it were taken directly from 

 the swamp, in a green, raw state. Therefore, if 

 one can let his muck lie in heap two years before 

 using, it will be enough better to richly pay the 

 investment ; and it certainly ought to lie several 

 months, at least. 



If the swamp is not dry enough to get the muck 

 out handily, now is the favorable period for open- 

 ing ditches to drain it. If it is inconvenient or 

 undesirable to drain the entire muck-bed, then by 

 ditching around a piece of it, of a few rods square, 

 and extending an outlet ditch, of suitable depth, 

 to ground low enough to carry off the water clean- 

 ly, the body of muck so separated on all sides 

 from the main bed, will in a very few days drain 

 off sufficiently to be easily shovelled up and carted 

 out to dry ground. Where one designs to get 

 out a considerable quantity of muck, he will find 

 it to be in the end the best economy to drain at 

 least that portion of the swamp he is to take the 

 muck from, clear to the bottom. A more tempo- 

 rary and superficial arrangement will not gener- 

 ally be any saving of labor. F. Holbrook. 



Brattleboro' , Aug. 17, 1858. 



TIMES GO B^Y TURNS. 



An English Jesuit, Robert Southwell, wrote the following lines 

 of much merit, two centuries and a half ago. The philosophic 

 strain pervading the piece is worthy of admiration. 

 The lopped tree in time may grow again, 



Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower ; 

 The sorriest wight may find relief from pain. 



The dryest soil suck in some moistening shower. 

 Times go by turns, and chances change by course, 

 From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. 



The sea of fortune doth forever flow, 



She draws her favors to the lowest ebb ; 

 Her tides have equal times to come and go, 



Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web. 

 No joy so great but runneth to an end, 

 No hap so hard but may in time amend. 



Not always fall of leaf, nor even spring ; 



No endless night, nor yet eternal day ; 

 The saddest birds a season find to sing. 



The roughest storm a calm rtay soon allay. 

 Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all, 

 That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. 



A chance may win that by mischance was lost ; 



That net that holds no great, takes little fish ; 

 In some things all, in all things none are crossed ; 



Few all they need ; but none have all they wish. 

 Unmingled joys here to no man befall : 

 Who least, have some 5 who most, hath never all. 



Trees. — I remember that, riding one day in 

 the south of Spain, where plains and hillsides 

 have been thoroughly denuded of trees, — except 

 the poor, homely, shadeless olive, — my intelligent 

 guide pointed to a huge ring, or bolt, in the side 

 of a rock, as our horses were picking their way 

 through the dry, rocky course of a once deep 

 river. "There," said he, "the old Romans used 

 to make fast their galleys when they ascended 

 this river." 



The forests have now gone, and with them 

 this once navigable river, which flows only in 

 the winter, and there is but a shallow stream. 

 — L. SaltanstaU. 



