] 74 MY FARM. 



Gooseberries, like the English, are rather indi- 

 gestible. 



Of strawberries, I shall not speak as a committee- 

 man, but as a simple lover of a luscious dish. I am 

 not learned in kinds ; and have even had the niaiserie 

 in the presence of cultivators, to confound Crimson 

 Cone with Boston-Pine ; and have blushed to my 

 eyelids, when called upon to name the British-Queen 

 in a little collection of only four mammoth varieties. 

 With strawberries, as with people, I believe in old 

 friends. The early Scarlet, if a little piquant, is 

 good for the first pickings ; and the Hovey, with a 

 neighbor bed of Pines, or McAvoy, and Black 

 Prince, if you please, give good flavor, and a well- 

 rounded dish. The spicy Alpines should bring up 

 the rear ; and as they send out but few runners, are 

 admirably adapted for borders. The Wilson is a 

 great bearer, and a fine berry ; but with the tweak 

 of its acidity in my month, I can give its flavor no 

 commendation. Supposing the land to be in good 

 vegetable-bearing condition, and deeply dug, I know 

 no dressing which will so delight the strawberry, as 

 a heavy coat of dark forest-mould. They are the 

 children of the wilderness, force them as we will ; 

 and their little fibrous rootlets never forget their 

 longing for the dark, unctuous odor of mouldering 

 forest leaves. 



