THE FEAST OF VEGETABLES 107 



pet poppy bed of four-score feet has been close to 

 a planting of potatoes. 



Alas, the potato! Writing the word brings 

 mournful memory of my repeated and increas- 

 ingly disastrous potato failures. The first spring at 

 Breeze Hill potatoes were planted as a matter of 

 course, and a moderate crop secured. The second 

 season they were planted as a matter of winter 

 food; more of them, in better ground; but the bugs, 

 allowed to get a start, made the result mediocre. 

 The third season I took much trouble to see to it 

 that conditions were right, as I thought, for a 

 model potato crop. The early showing was most 

 good-looking and promising, being seemingly about 

 ideal. Bugs came, but were promptly picked or 

 poisoned. Then suddenly the blight descended, 

 and just wiped out that potato patch, despite 

 frantic spraying. 



Last season, my combativeness aroused, I took 

 every possible precaution in preparing to grow a 

 small area of potatoes on the intensive plan. 

 Fresh ground, the best on the place, subsoiled with 

 dynamite; an approved chemical fertilizer; selected 

 seed, carefully cut; planting of the most pains- 

 taking character. All these, and then opportune 

 rains to start the tubers — but they didn't start 

 to any reasonable extent. The vacant spaces were 



