1904 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



191 



this present time; and, after life's toils are 

 over, "eternal life." If we think we can 

 not afford to give up selfishness and selfish 

 appetites, we shall go through the world 

 dragging everybody down to our own level, 

 or lower still; but if we start out to serve 

 the Master, even though we do not make 

 very much headway, we shall not only be 

 lifting ourselves up, but all humanity along 

 with us. Which shall it be? 



MY " ROASTED- CHESTNUT " POTATO. 



Some time last spring friend J. B. Mason, 

 of Mechanic Falls, Me., sent me a sample 

 of potatoes that he said were extra nice for 

 table use. As he took the trouble to prepay 

 the express charges on something like half 

 a peck, I supposed they must be, of course, 

 in seme way remarkable. His letter ac- 

 companying is not at hand; but he said he 

 had been growing them seme years on ac- 

 count of the extra quality, both for baking 

 and steaming. He said if I boiled them 

 they wou'.d be apt to "go all to pieces," so 

 he preferred steaming. It was exactly as 

 he said. The potato was very dry and 

 flour3', with a peculiar taste not unlike that 

 of a roasted chestnut. The potato is not a 

 great j-ielder; and as it was of a reddish 

 blue, not only on the outside but on the in- 

 side also, it was not very attractive in ap- 

 pearance. Its only recommendation was 

 quality. Now ccmes the disappointing part 

 of it. When these potatoes were planted in 

 Northern Michigan they were not only poor 

 j'ielders, but the quality was jtist ordinary. 

 On that soil it did not reproduce itself. 

 Nothing rtmarkable about this, is there? 

 To tell the truth, I do not know that I 

 should have ever mentioned it at all were it 

 not that it paved the way f -r the following: 



About the same time, somebody else (his 

 letter is at present up in Michigan) sent me 

 samples of some seedlings of his own origi- 

 nating. One was a fine white potato; the 

 other looked considerably like Mason's blue 

 potato. By the way, I think friend Mason 

 said his potato was a sport from the Blue 

 Lapland that was grown quite extensively 

 years ago. Well, this latter friend who 

 sent me the two kinds of potatoes wrote me 

 again before planting time, telling me to 

 throw away the red ones, as he had since 

 discovered they were all hollow and "no 

 good." I accordingly told the boys to sort 

 out the red potatoes and not plant them. 

 There is a general prejudice against red 

 potatoes, anyhow. 



Before I go any further in my potato sto- 

 ry, permit me to say that I have tested so 

 many potatoes in times past, and found 

 them to be but little if any better than or- 

 dinary, I have not had very much heart in 



the work of late years. Quite a number of 

 the brethren have complained that 1 didn't 

 even report. Well, a potato just now has 

 got to have some very remarkable quality to 

 compete successfully with the good potatoes 

 we already have — Carman No. 3, for in- 

 stance. After spending lots of time and 

 money in testing the much lauded new 

 kinds. Carman No. 3 steadily ccmes out 

 ahead. If you want quality and beauty of 

 appearance, Freeynan comes out steadily 

 ahead. If you want an extra-earl3' potato, 

 somehow the old Early Ohio bobs up afler 

 a little, year after year. When it comes 

 planting time purchasers keep calling fjr 

 the Early Ohio, no matter how strongly 

 seedsmen urge other kinds that are "ten 

 days "or " two weeks " earlier — " better 

 yielder," "better quality," etc. The po- 

 tatoes that are sent me for trial have, many 

 of them, proved to be very good; but when 

 one thiuks of the labor of introducing a 

 new variety, and proving that it will thrive 

 in all localities, he had better think twice 

 befjre he puts much money in it. Let us 

 now go back. 



When I told the boys to sort out and 

 throw away all the red potatoes, they must 

 have skipped half a d zen or nure; f jr eve- 

 ry little while we wou'.d find, in digging, a 

 red potato among the white ones. I cjuld 

 not think at first how they got there until I 

 remembered what our friend said about the 

 red potatoes being hollow. All together 

 there was nearly a peck. Many of them 

 were of peculiar shape, sharp at one end 

 and round on the other — something like a 

 pear shaped sweet potato. I thought, be- 

 fore throwing them away, I would le^t some 

 just for the fun of it. When washed up in 

 our spring they looked very nice. Pretty 

 soon Mrs. Root began to scold. First she 

 said those red potatoes were so hard she 

 could scarcely get a knife into them to peel 

 them. She said, furthermore, that every 

 one I gave her, little and big, was hollow, 

 and the hollow was black around the out- 

 side; so that, in order to get any potatoes 

 for dinner, she had to pare them outside 

 first and then dig into the flinty things to 

 pare off the inside where it was dark color- 

 ed around that hollow. I asked her why 

 she did not throw them away without fuss- 

 ing so much. She replied, " The orders 

 were to test them." She knew by experi- 

 ence that, in testing potatoes, she was ex- 

 pected to obey orders. We both laughed; 

 but when it was dinner time we had one of 

 our " happy surprises." The quality was 

 far ahead of any thing I had ever tasted in 

 the potato line; and when tested by baking 

 they were almost equal to a roasted chest- 

 nut. And, by the way, did it ever occur to 

 you that the best table potatoes are the 

 ones that are crisp, hard, and brittle when 

 you attempt to cut or pare them? I remem- 

 ber we had, some years ago, some Hubbard 

 squashes that were so heavy and rock like 

 that we had to pare them with a hatchet or 

 draw-knife. Then when we wanted to cut 

 them up they had to be chopped in pieces 



