364 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[December, 
For the American Agriculturist. 
A Talk About Troublesome Weeds. 
At a late meeting of our Farmers’ Club, the sub¬ 
ject for discussion, was “ Stoloniferous Plants.'" 
The gentleman who presented it was a little 
mistaken as to the exact meaning of the words 
used. According to Gray and other botanists, 
a Stolon is “ a trailing or reclining branch above 
ground, which strikes root where it touches the 
soil, etc.,” of which the currant and gooseberry 
are familiar examples. But in the discussion 
referred to, it was used in a more general sense, 
to include all plants (weeds, especially,) which 
increase by creeping roots, such as Canada this¬ 
tles, quack grass, and the like. 
Speaker No. 1, observed that it was a lament¬ 
able fact that the pests of the farm and garden 
were rapidly increasing. Insects of many kinds 
swarm upon our trees and vines. Ants are in¬ 
creasingly troublesome, eating up young plants, 
burrowing in the finest lawns, in the footpaths 
of the garden, and throwing up unsightly heaps 
among the choicest flower-borders. In our 
fields, weeds are spreading in a formidable man¬ 
ner. The white daisy makes many a field as 
white in June as in Winter; and the mustard- 
plant makes others yellow as sulphur. The 
Canada thistle is running unbridled from farm 
to farm, and quack grass is hard after it. 
What shall we do ? These weeds exhaust 
the soil, and they make tillage very laborious. 
Tliev can be subdued, if we only set about: it 
with a will. Much has been said about cutting 
down thistles and alders and dock, in a certain 
month, on a certain day of the month and pe¬ 
riod of the moon’s changes. Little reliance can 
bo put on such rules. If rank-growing plants 
are cut down when at their full strength, and if 
the cutting is followed up by a heavy applica¬ 
tion .of salt, either the brine, or the close brows¬ 
ing of cattle in search of the salt, may weaken, 
and at length kill out the plants; but such re¬ 
sults will be the exception, not the general rule. 
Grubbing , up the roots , is the only sure remedy. 
Speaker No. 2. In my view, the increase of 
insects is owing mainly to the cutting down of 
our forests and the killing of the birds. Had we 
more forest trees about us, multitudes of insects 
would find homes there, instead of in our or¬ 
chards and gardens. And if we encouraged the 
birds to dwell about us' more securely, they 
would help keep down the insects. As to kill¬ 
ing out Canada thistles by cutting off the tops, 
1 don’t believe a word in it. I have more faith 
in the old saw that, to make sure work of it, they 
should Jie dug up, the roots dried in an oven, 
smoked in a pipe, and the ashes carefully saved! 
This plant increases chiefly by an under-ground 
root. It sends down a perpendicular root, say 
a foot or eighteen inches long, which then turns 
off at a right angle, and runs some distance hor¬ 
izontally. From this horizontal root (which is 
the only true root,) there spring up new plants 
at every few inches. Now, the only sure way to 
kill the thistle, is to dig up this horizontal root. 
To cut off the leaves, or to pull up the perpen¬ 
dicular shoot, does not answer the purpose. 
No. 3 said, jocosely, that if this thistle has 
spread into the States from Canada, it is plain 
that it has strong Southern leanings. 
No. 4. In my experience, this plant and 
quack grass can be kept in check, if not wholly 
exterminated. The grass is a tough customer, 
indeed. I once dug up a lot of the roots, laid 
them on an old stick of timber to dry, but in a 
few weeks, found that they had penetrated the 
spongy wood, and looked far from being dis¬ 
couraged ! When a field has become infested 
with these weeds or daisies, my plan is to put it 
under the plow and harrow. In the Spring, be¬ 
fore planting, I plow and harrow twice, gather 
up the roots of thistle and quack, and burn them. 
Then I put in some hoed crop, keep the cultiva¬ 
tor and hoe moving briskly until the crop com¬ 
pletely shades the ground : after this, the weeds 
will not grow much. After the crop is harvest¬ 
ed, I go over the field again, with plow and har¬ 
row and rake. The liorse-rake answers well to 
gather the roots into heaps. The year after this, 
and indeed for several years, the weeds in that 
field give me but little trouble. 
No. 5. I agree with the last speaker, but 
would add that wherever these pests or others of 
the family appear, they must never be allowed to 
go to seed. The scythe should go over the fields 
and along the roadsides at least twice every 
Summer. Nor will it suffice for one or two 
farmers to do this. All should do it, or the 
careful will suffer from the ilying seeds of 
the careless. I am not so sure that thistles can 
not be subdued (say in the garden,) by perse- 
veringly cutting off the tops, if they are cut off 
with the hoe or spade just below the surface of 
the ground. Like every other plant, they will 
die if they can’t breathe; and then- leaves are 
their lungs. [I have succeeded pretty well in 
fighting couch-grass in a stiff clay soil, by using 
a double Michigan plow, and turning under the 
roots so deep as to smother them. And when 
the roots rot, they make a capital manure. A 
neighbor of mine smothers his quack, and plows 
up his thistles once a month, giving them no 
rest above ground or beneath it, and they die 
out from sheer exhaustion.] * 
Tim Bunker on Running Astern. 
“A great crop of corn this,” said Patrick, as 
he threw the tenth red ear over the heap of 
stalks from which he was husking. 
“ ’Taint nothing to what I’ve seen over on the 
Island when I used to live there,” said uncle 
Jotham Sparrowgrass, with a look that would 
have annihilated anybody but an Irishman. 
“ An how much d’ye think ye’ve seen over 
there, old fellow?” asked Pat., determined to 
sift matters to the bottom. 
“ Eighty bushels to the acre of clean shell 
corn, and nothing used but fish manure neither.” 
“ An sure that was some corn, but the Squire 
will have a hundred as sure as ye’r born. That 
is the tenth red ear, and we have not been husk¬ 
ing an hour yet, and every red ear marks ten 
bushels, they say.” 
“Red ears! you fool!” exclaimed uncle Jo¬ 
tham, the corn is more than quarter red ears. 
There won’t be seventy bushels to the acre on 
any part of the Squire’s farm I know.” 
“ You must go over to neighbor Frink’s to 
see corn,” remarked Seth Twiggs, drily, as he 
sat on his milking stool at the end of the heap, 
puffing away with his pipe, while his hands 
were busy with the ears. 
“Now Jake, own up,” said Tucker, “andtell 
us whether the crop on that lot was ten bushels 
and three pecks, or three bushels and ten pecks.” 
“ It was plump twenty bushels, and no thanks 
to you either,” said Jake indignantly. “ It is 
enuff to make any man go as tarn to have such a 
hand to work for him as you are. The weeds 
grew faster than the corn, a mighty sight.” 
These remarks were made at a husking bee on 
my barn floor a few evenings back. I approve 
of liuskings if they are rightly, managed, though 
they probably do more to promote good neigh¬ 
borhood than they do to help on .the farmer’s 
work. They make a pleasant gathering of old 
friends and neighbors, and sometimes relieve a 
man in a pinch. The scene was a good deal like 
that in Whittier’s song of the buskers: 
“ Swung o’er the heaped-up harvest 
From pitchforks in the mow, 
Shone dimly down the lanterns 
On the pleasant scene below; 
The growing pile of husks behind 
The golden ears before, 
And laughing eyes and busy hands, 
And brown cheeks glimmering o’er. 
Half hidden in a quiet nook, 
Serene of look and heart, 
Talking their old times over, 
The old men sat apart; 
While up and down the unhusked pile, 
Or nestling in its shade, 
At hide-and-seek with laugh and shout, 
The happy children played.” 
You see Whittier is an old fellow down in 
Massachusetts, that writes songs, and once in a 
while he touches up the farmers as well as the 
negroes. I suppose it is because he thinks they 
are both rather sad cases, and need sympathy; 
Mrs. Bunker says he is the best ballad maker in 
America, and I believe our Sally is pretty much 
the same way of thinking. At any rate, I guess 
he has been to a husking, and knows pretty 
near how they go on. The old folks that even¬ 
ing had the barn floor pretty much to them¬ 
selves, the young ones preferring out-of-doors, 
where they had a plenty of moonshine in the 
heavens, and I guess some below. 
Jake Frink’s corn field of course came up for 
discussion. For I never saw men at a husking 
but they wanted one more butt, than they found 
in the corn heap. It was certainly the poorest 
piece of corn in the neighborhood, and if there 
is any poorer in town, I have not seen it. It 
wasn’t so much because the land was poor natu¬ 
rally; for his farm joins mine, and there can’t be 
a great deal of original difference in the soil. 
His corn field and inline were not a quarter of a 
mile apart, but there was a good deal more than 
that difference in the yield. Tucker probably 
made an under-statement in putting it at ten 
bushels and a fraction, but there could not have 
been over twenty bushels, and one third of that 
was soft corn. It was hoed only once, and the 
crop of wild mustard and wormwood was very 
generous. Grass was so plenty that Jake’s 
cows found the best pasture upon the corn field. 
“ What is gwine to be the price of mustard 
this Fall naber Frink?” inquired Seth Twiggs. 
“I don’t care,” said Jake, “I shant have any 
to sell. It makes tol’able fodder.” 
“ You’ll make beef on’t I suppose,” remarked 
Tucker very gravely. 
“ How much profit d’ye spose ye’ve made on 
that crop,” inquired uncle Jotham. 
“ Profit!” exclaimed Jake. “ I don’t farm for 
profit. I’m thankful enuff if I can get a livin’. 
I’ve allers had a hard time on’t, and this year 
have run astarn a little more than common.” 
“And where do you’spose the leak is, in your 
pocket?” I inquired. “WallneowLcan’t tell,” 
said Jake scratching his head. It seems as if 
the trouble was at the top of the pocket instead 
of the bottom, and I’ve been allers siferin’to find 
out why money didn’t git into my pocket. Mine 
allers gits eout afore it gits in, so that the most 
of the time I don’t have nothin’. I’ve allers beii 
runnin’ astarn since I begun to farm it, and I 
don’t know what the matter is.” J) ' 
Jake’s puzzle is that of a good many others, 
though few, it is to be hoped, are quite so bad 
off as he is. They do not make ahy headway, 
but are rather getting in debt every year. Many 
