1895 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
669 
WHAT ABOUT THE POTATO CHOP? 
Can you give us any information, in a general and 
comprehensive way, regarding the quality and quan¬ 
tity of the present potato crop of Europe and America, 
as compared with the average for some years past ? 
So many conflicting reports from small localities con¬ 
fuse one, so he can hardly form a good general esti¬ 
mate of the crop and prospects. How is the product 
in general, keeping ? In your best judgment, what is 
the prospect for a fair price in the winter for potatoes 
that keep till that time ? In this little nook of the 
potato raising world, Aroostook County, the acreage 
is the largest ever known, and the crop one of the 
heaviest; but the rot is the worst for 20 years, about 
half the entire crop being unsound and going in a 
rush to the starch factories. For a number of years, 
this county has made most of the potato starch manu¬ 
factured in the United States, but of late, the West 
has been turning its attention in that direction. 
Various reports credit the West with a much increased 
starch output this season, some claiming that it will 
equal the New England output. Roughly, what are 
the facts ? J- c. H. 
Fort Fairfield, Me. 
R. N.-Y.—It is a difficult matter to say, at this time, 
just how the potato crop will turn out as to yield and 
quality. Many of the potatoes are as yet undug, or 
dug so recently that accurate estimates have not yet 
been made. After the next Government crop report 
is issued, which will be in about two weeks, we may 
be able to judge more closely. In general, we may 
say that the crop in Europe in those districts which 
export most potatoes to this country, is reported 
smaller than for several years past. Rut the foreign 
crop cuts but a small figure in our markets, even in 
those years when the largest importations are made— 
they are but a drop in the bucket compared with the 
total amount consumed here. In this country, from 
all reports, the crop is the largest since 1891, even 
though it do not equal or exceed that year's heavy 
yield. As to quality, it is generally good, but much 
loss from rot is reported from many localities. Just 
how great the loss from this cause will be, on the 
whole, it is all guesswork to say. As the weather, 
however, has been dry over the most of the country, 
it is hardly to be expected that the loss from rot will 
be enough materially to affect the price. As for win¬ 
ter prices, not so much dependence can be placed 
upon them as formerly, especially late winter, as 
Bermuda, the West Indies, and the Southern States send 
such quantities of new potatoes as considerably to 
reduce the demand for old stock. Then, we are in an 
era of lower prices all around, and excessively high 
prices need not be expected. 
AFTER-CARE OF GLADIOLUS BULBS. 
Some readers of The Rural New-Yorker wish me 
to give specific directions for the care of gladiolus bulbs 
after blooming. The gladiolus is an old flower, but it 
is only lately that it became cheap enough for the 
ordinary purse, and all the facts that have come to 
me show that its beauty, its good qualities, and its 
proper treatment, are absolutely “ unknown quanti¬ 
ties” to a very large majority of our people. The 
treatment is so simple that it seems as though no one 
could go astray with regard to the bulbs ; they ask 
nothing more than does the potato that no family is 
without. A putting into the ground in the spring 
(shallow or deep, right side up, sidewise or reversed; ; 
a decent amount of cultivation to loosen the soil and 
give the stalks a chance to over-top the weeds ; a little 
drying, and a storing in a frost-proof (but not too 
warm,) place ; and that is all, except repeat ad infini¬ 
tum. Some of my bulbs have been in my possession 
10 years ; at least, their ancestors have; for one new 
bulb, at least, forms from the old one each year, and 
the old, shriveled one, is thrown away. 
By far the finest season I have ever had with gladi¬ 
oli, followed a winter in which adverse circumstances 
influenced my winter treatment of them. We lived 
that year in a house where the cellar could not, by 
any art, be kept from freezing. We burned only 
wood, so that it was not feasible to keep the bulbs 
above the cellar. Determined not to be bereft of my 
favorites, I packed the bulbs (botanists call them 
corms, but 999 persons out of 1,000 call them bulbs) 
in a box of perfectly dry sand, without removing the 
heavy layers of dry outside skin. The box was placed 
in the warmest part of the cellar, but nothing there 
escaped the touch of frost. The bulbs were never 
looked at until planting time, when they rolled out 
as big and plump, almost, as when packed, with not 
a sign of injury, or of the starting shoots so often 
visible at that time. Planted as usual they gave, 
instead of the more usual single stalk of bloom, two, 
three, four—and one bulb even eight stalks. This 
one was of the commonest red type, and I never saw 
a duplicate case. 
People who jump at conclusions would infer from 
this, that keeping the bulbs in the manner stated, 
was the cause of the marvelously prolific bloom. Not 
so, however. Undoubtedly this helped, for I never 
saw before or since, such well preserved bulbs. But 
the real cause lay farther back. For, properly to 
“keep gladioli over winter” one must begin the spring 
previous ! The bulbs of which I speak, had received 
unusual care the previous summer. The ground was 
a rich garden spot, deeply dug and heavily enriched 
further with well-rotted barnyard scrapings. Culti¬ 
vation had been frequent and thorough all through 
the season, and the bulbs were of twice the ordinary 
size when dug in the autumn. So much for extra 
care ; but the gladiolus does not fail to give a good 
spike of bloom, even from bulbs an inch in diameter. 
Now, if every woman thinks that she can plant and 
care for a gladiolus bulb, let me tell a little story 
further. Some bulbs were loaned to a friend to whom 
I had given all the information that had occurred to 
me, but whose own bulbs were deteriorating each year, 
without any cause which the data she gave me could 
show. That the borrowed bulbs came back to me 
mixed with some of her own, I could not fail to know 
at sight of them, and I thereby gained the missing 
link in my knowledge of her treatment of them. 
Some of the bulbs which I received, were four stories 
high ! That is, the old, worn-out bulbs had not been 
removed for, at least, three years, and there was the 
new one of the last season’s growth surmounting the 
three-story evidence of the fact. It had formed, but 
was stunted and undersized. 
Ordinarily, my bulbs receive no petting, but they 
do receive good culture, and 1 like them to have rich 
soil. I like, also, to leave them out as late in the fall 
as I dare, in order that the bulbs may be well ripened. 
This is especially necessary if they have been planted 
late. 
They are taken up, then, at any time between the 
first frosts and the first hard freeze, and dried for a 
few days in a moderately sunny, or any airy place. 
The tops are then cut off, and the bulbs placed in the 
attic for further drying. When this is accomplished— 
when they feel firm and dry rather than wilty, they 
may be bagged or basketed, and hung up, or placed 
on shelves, prefeiably in a dark, cool closet. They 
look nicer and take less room, if rflie old bulb is re¬ 
moved at this time, with all the loose, dark skin. But 
both these are of some protective value, in case of 
possible bruising or of exposure to frost. 
MYRA V. NORYS. 
We have something to say this week about the 
wholesale production of seed potatoes. On the first 
page, is a picture showing how food potatoes are 
harvested at a wholesale rate in Colorado. We have 
often told our readers about these great potato farms 
at Greeley, Col. The annual crop from this place re¬ 
quires 7,000 cars for transportation, and, of course, 
hand labor must be avoided as far as possible. Cut¬ 
ting, planting and cultivating are largely done by 
machinery ; but digging, or rather, picking up, re¬ 
quires thousands of human fingers. The improved 
diggers will get the tubers out of the ground, and 
sorters will separate them into required sizes ; but 
humans must still be employed to pick them up. At 
one time, it was reported that a large machine had 
been invented for digging the potatoes, separating 
them from dirt, and elevating them into a farm 
wagon—all these operations to be done as the team 
passed along the field. It did not seem to work well 
in practice, however, and has not been heard from of 
late. Our picture shows how the thing is done in 
Colorado. That is the land of bags. Lumber is ex¬ 
pensive, and barrels, boxes and crates cost too much. 
Nearly 2,000,000 bags will be required to hold a year's 
crop. Of course in a country like Colorado, where 
labor is high-priced and the fields are large, machinery 
must be employed wherever possible. On smaller 
areas, however, we find quite a good many farmers 
who have become convinced that, after all, hand dig¬ 
ging pays best. These men, however, find that, in 
order to use hand tools to the best advantage, they 
must plant in hills or ridge up the drills after plant¬ 
ing shallow. Of course this decreases the yield, but 
these farmers think that they gain more in saving in 
the cost of digging. 
There are natural reasons why wholesale potato 
growing has become such a business at Greeley, Col. 
The soil is admirably suited to both potatoes and 
Alfalfa. The Alfalfa sod provides manure for the 
potatoes. Droughts are never troublesome, because 
the potato fields can all be irrigated, and thus a con¬ 
stant supply of water is piovided. Some of these 
Western farmers are using steam and wind pumps to 
raise the water required for their potatoes, thus giving 
a striking object-lesson of the possibilities of farming 
on level laud, with a supply of water within reach of 
a pump. There is suitable land with water beneath 
it in every State. 
THE OLD-TIME CHOIR. 
(WITH AN APOLOGY TO EUGENE FIELD.) 
’Way back in bleak New England—in the church up on the hill, 
Kate Brown an’ me an’ Jennie Smith, an’ my first cousin Bill, 
We used to sit up in the choir, an’ roll Old Hundred out, 
’Til! you could hear the angel’s wings a-rustlin’ all about. 
There me an’ Kate stood side an’side—we made a handsome pair! 
Her alto went see-sawin’ up an’ down to Jennie’s air, 
While Bill an’ Jennie stretched their throats, and climbed ’way 
up to C. 
Then me an’ Kate drawed in ourdungs, an’went’way down to G, 
An’ up an’ down, an’ in an’ out, an’ crisscross—right m place, 
When Bill sung tenor an’ X sung bass ! 
I ain’t so much on singin’ non), but in them days, I know 
That me an’ Kate an’ Jennie, sir, an’ Bill, could start an’ go 
Right plumb down through the singin’ book; you ever hear about 
That time I liked to lost a note, an’ almost put ’em out? 
A crowd o’ strangers come to church, an’ Bill he whispered, “Now 
Let’s give ’em ‘ Coronation,’ girls, an’ we’ll jest show ’em how ! ” 
“ Bring forth the royal diadem! ” My stars, how we did bawl ! 
Thinks I, I guess I’ll make a hit in “ Crown Him lord of all! ’ 
I started down for lower //—thought I had wind to boot, 
But though I liked to split a lung, I-missed it by a foot. 
It liked to put them singers out—it would have but for Kate; 
She made a twist an’ ketehed that note, an’ held it on the plate; 
She smoothed it ’round an’ trimmed it up until it sung like lace. 
When Bill sung tenor an’ I sung bass. 
Now, goin’ home that night with Kate, she up an’ scolded me. 
“What makes ye try to do things when ye know ye cant?” says she. 
“You knew you couldn’t reach that note!” I hum bly says, “Jess so; 
Here 1 be reachin’ after you, although I orter know 
You’re further off than that ere note.” My heart went pitty pat. 
She kinder looked away an’ says, “ Don't be too sure of that ! ” 
I haven’t missed no notes since then, when Kate was in her place, 
For she’s sung alto an’ trimmed my bass. 
Old Bill he wasn’t happy on the hard New England farm ; 
He kinder thought he’d wander off—he couldn’t see the harm 
Of seein’ what the world was like, outside the old home nest. 
He carried Jennie’s picture and her Bible ’way out West. 
But fortune didn’t favor Bill—he wandered through the years, 
While Jennie bravely kept her faith, and stilled back the tears. 
The wrinkles gathered in her face, but yet her heart was still 
As faithful as in old-time years, when poor discouraged Bill 
Came creeping back a broken man, to die on our home place, 
Consumption’s light just burnin’ on his dear old homely face. 
I couldn’t seem to realize ’twas just the same old Bill 
A-sittin’ holdm’ Jennie’s hand, so patient an’ so still. 
Jest lookin’ off there to the hills, where God’s bright sunlight lay. 
It did jest make me break all down, to hear the fellow say, 
A-whisperin’—with that holy light a-beamin’ on his face, 
“ Birneby I’ll sing the tenor to your old bass.” 
For years and years, the tangled grass on poor Bill’s grave has 
grown. 
Poor Jennie sleeps beside him there, an’ me an’ Kate’s alone ! 
Oh, no we aint—you see that girl a-readin’ over there ? 
She’s Jennie second, she kin sing way up into the air. 
You see that little feller there ? We had him christened Bill ; 
He hasn’t gut his change of voice—but some good day he’ll fill 
That tenor’s place in our old choir, an’ then ther’s little Kate. 
She hasn’t talked a syllable, but then ! My stars ! You wait ! 
She sings her alto even now—especially at night; 
You ask her mother if she don’t—she’s gettin’ on all right. 
So me an’ Kate we’ll sing the bass, until this ’ere quartette 
Gits all completed in our home, and then we’ll quit; an’ yet, 
These younger folks won’t never sing like we old singers done ; 
There aint no use a-quittin’ now—we’d better keep right on 
A-singin’ so thet in the throng afore the throne of grace, 
Beside Bill’s tenor, you’li hear my bass. h. w. c. 
BUSINESS BITS. 
The Carter Wire Fence Machine Co. have removed their works 
from Derby to Mt. Sterling, O., where with greatly increased 
facilities, they will be better prepared than ever promptly to till 
orders for their machines. 
We are constantly receiving letters asking how to kill insects 
in stored grain, or .in peas and beans. The shortest answer is, 
use bisulphide of carbon! That substance will surely kill these grain 
insects, as it will woodchucks and hen lice. Edward R. Taylor, 
Cleveland, O., sells this substance. Send and get his interesting 
pamphlet. 
Those having live stock to send to this market, will do well to 
write to Jelliffe, Wright & Co., 284 Washington Street. They are 
located in the stockyards for this business, and have every 
facility for doing a satisfactory business. They also handle all 
kinds of produce. 
Is it any object to you to buy a surrey, road cart, or any kind of 
a spring wagon, this fall, if you can get a big reduction in price ? 
It will pay you well to winter it over, even though you don’t need 
it before spring. Write to the Kalamazoo Buckboard Co., Kala¬ 
mazoo, Mich., and see what they have to offer. 
There are plenty of good feed grinders, but some of them are a 
little high priced for the ordinary farmer. Alfred B. Holcombe, 
Box 274, Lambertville, N. J., offers what he calls the New Farm 
grist mill, which runs easy, grinds fine and fast, can be run with 
one-horse power, grinds anything a farmer would ever care to 
grind, and sells for $20. Write him. 
The corn crop this year is reported to be the largest ever grown 
in this country. Of course, this will mean a big demand for 
shellers, and good shellers, too. The Sandwich Mfg. Co., 119 Main 
Street, Sandwich, Ill., are prepared to furnish shellers of any 
capacity up to 160 bushels per hour, for any kind of power, and 
can also furnish any power desired. Better write them before 
the rush which is sure to come later. 
Advertisers are always anxious to know what papers their 
customers read, so as to know what papers have readers who are 
consumers of their goods. Jos. Breck & Sons, 54 North Market 
Street, Boston, Mass., are now offering in their advertisement to 
send a poultry marker, or three bulbs free, to customers who 
mention The R. N.-Y. We take very little stock, as a rule, in 
things that are offered “free ;” but the object here is in no way 
obscured, and there is no better or more reliable firm in the 
country. 
A Flat Car for the Farm, is what the Farmers’ Handy Wagon 
Co., Saginaw, Mich., call the wagon which they are offering. 
The tires are six inches wide, the platform is 7x16 feet, and only 
30 inches from the ground, and the wagon can be turned around 
in a space its own length. How does that compare with your old, 
narrow-tired, high-wheeled wagon which needs an acre of ground 
to turn on ? It will cost you nothing to investigate. Write for 
book of photographic views showing how it is used in every State. 
