762 
THE BUBAL HEW-YOBKEB. 
HOW JOHN BECAME A MARKET 
GARDENER. 
OLIVER HOWARD. 
NO. II. 
By means of the hot-bed John felt that he 
made a spot of summer amid the cold and 
snows of early spring. Around these first 
experiments clustered the interest and observ¬ 
ation of every member of the family. The 
very first experiment was made with some 
odd window sashes found about the place. 
One day after the cabbages and tomatoes 
had got started, to the loud delight of the 
youngsters, an experienced greenhouse 
worker called at the door and asked for work. 
In many respects he was a very good man; 
but he taught John a lesson that he did not 
soon forget, namely, that experience alone, 
in the management of hot-beds is no match 
for the tender, watchful, loving care the pro¬ 
prietor can give to the young plants. Some 
one has said that if you would have a man or 
woman possess a lovely and loving nature, 
the childhood must have love infused into it. 
He who has never been loved will show small 
capability of loving again. As the luscious 
apple represents in itself the sunshine of many 
a day, so does a grand specimen of humanity 
show the force of some strong love upon it¬ 
self; and there are people who believe that 
plants know and feel, and do absolutely re¬ 
spond to loving care. This is perhaps true in 
some sense. 
One day, the new gardener first removed 
the canvas from over the tomatoes when the 
air was freezing and then let a rude all-day 
wind blow upon them. Four thousand plants 
were killed that day, and John quoted sadly 
the Spanish proverb: “A fool knows more in 
his own house than a wise man in his neigh¬ 
bor’s,” and resolved that henceforth he would 
manage his own hot-beds. And he did. 
After some years’ experience he raised nearly 
all the young plants he needed; and had some 
to sell. He had lettuce, cabbage, cauliflower, 
parsley, peppers, tomatoes, egg plants and 
others. The work was confining and some¬ 
times difficult, as when a sudden cold snap 
came on, and the beds had to be warmly 
covered with shutters and rugs, but, upon the 
whole there was abundant satisfaction in it. 
In the early spring, the demand for fresh 
vegetables is always greater than the supply. 
Did anybody ever see too much spinach and 
lettuce, or too many radishes, in a Colorado 
town, in March or April? In June they are 
very abundant and any one can raise them in 
the open ground. As soon as John had good- 
sized heads of lettuce and radishes, he dug up 
some parsnips, and drew forth turnips, beets 
and carrots from the sand in his root-cellar 
and began making his rounds, calling wher¬ 
ever he thought his vegetables would be wel¬ 
come, not omitting the hotels and boarding¬ 
houses, of course. The sales were at first very 
small, aggregating less than a dollar, but in a 
few days they were much larger. John had 
no silly pride about being called a peddler. 
He said it was just as proper and noble and 
all that, for him to carry his fruits, flowers, 
vegetables, eggs, poultry and honey, from his 
own little place direct to the consumer, as for 
the Imerchant to carry a dollar's worth of 
sugar that somebody else had manufactured, 
or a sack of potatoes that somebody else had 
raised, from his store to his customer. John 
said he couldn’t see why his calling was less 
honorable than the merchant’s; and, besides, 
his customers got a fresh article, at a fair 
price, without the intervention of middle-men. 
I know a college graduate who retails and 
ships his produce, and is at no disadvantage 
because of his superior education. No farmer 
is a worse farmer for being educated and 
gentlemanly, but the chances are that he is a 
better one. My college friend makes a good 
impression on his customers, and retains the 
confidence of his correspondents abroad. John 
contrived to have rhubarb, onions and spin¬ 
ach at least a week before most unprofessional 
gardeners, and so he was able to sell more or 
less to nearly every one; and this held true 
through the entire season. His peas, potatoes, 
string-beans, sweet-corn, tomatoes, etc., were 
a little ahead of the general run of produce, 
which proved to be of considerable money im¬ 
portance to him. 
Each day he kept a little cash account of 
the sales of each vegetable and the amounts 
collected. This he entered in his big account 
book, after suitably ruling a page, thus: 
CASH RECEIVED FOR VEGETABLES IN MAY, 
1880. 
Let. Rad. On. Rhub. Spin. Eggs. 
Mayl, .50 .35 .90 1.10 .65 .40 
“ 2, .60 .30 1.05 .20 .70 
Whenever a bill was paid he entered the 
items in the appropriate square. At the end 
of the month it was easy to see how much 
of each article had been sold and paid for. 
At the end of a year, he could tell what had 
been received for each variety of vegetable. 
As these accounts were kept year after year, 
they were valuable for comparison. An in¬ 
spection of them told him when he made his 
first sale,what any one crop brought him, and 
which proved the most lucrative for the 
amount of labor bestowed. 
For instance : It was plain to see that the 
despised turnip was a far better crop for 
John, all things considered, than the luscious 
strawberry. And this was the explanation : 
Turnips were raised throughout the season 
and sold reasonably well at five cents per 
bunch, while strawberries were a short crop 
as to time, and rarely brought over 15 cents 
per box, and often only 10. Rareripe onions 
came along early in May, and John’s best crop, 
green peas, early in June. For a time it took 
two wagons running fast all the forenoons to 
sell out the peas. The best day’s retail busi¬ 
ness amounted to $30; but a little later, when 
vegetables and fruits were plentiful, the 
wagons were well loaded with over 30 varie¬ 
ties, and the shipping and retail trade 
amounted to from $35 to $35 per day for six 
weeks. All this would seem small to a great 
wholesale market gardener; but the results 
were quite satisfactory to a man hardly in 
robust health, and who had served no appren¬ 
ticeship and who was quite thankful to make 
a good living in any honest way for a house¬ 
hold seldom numbering less than an even 
dozen. 
.-» - 
CAULIFLOWER SEED GROWING ON 
PUGET SOUND. 
Puget Sound is the only place in the coun¬ 
try where cauliflower seeds are grown ; 
climate needed for their production-, soil 
and itsp>reparation; underdraining ; get¬ 
ting plants from the seed-bed; winter treat¬ 
ment-. transplanting; use of oyster and 
tomato cans; watering; cultivation; cull¬ 
ing imperfect heads; ripening of the seed; 
drying it; thrashing; rolling; bagging 
for market. 
I am told by very good authority that 
cauliflower seeds had never been grown in 
the United States as a field crop to any extent 
until we made a success of it here on Puget 
Sound. In the first place, a very cool, moist 
climate is necessary to cure seeds at all. That 
climate we have here on our low, flat islands 
lying in the mouth of the Gulf of Georgia. 
We often have heavy fogs in the night, and 
always dews equal to a light shower every 
night all summer long. The first expense 
attending the raising of cauliflower seed is 
quite heavy. The soil must be a rich, warm 
loam facing the east and south, and it will be 
all the better for having a clay subsoil. We 
must have the land underdrained once in 20 
feet, the drains being three feet deep, to give 
us a chance to work early in the spring and 
also to take off the surplus water when we 
come to flood the land in July. 
To prepare the land for the crop, we start in 
September. After the fall rains have softened 
the soil, plow, harrow, roll, harrow again, 
then replow and work it again, until the 
soil is as fine as an onion bed. Now we 
throw it into ridges, six feet apart, and it is 
ready for work in early spring. For manure 
we sow 2,000 pounds of superphosphate and 
ground Sitka herring, equal parts of each, to 
the acre. With two horses and a Planet Jr. 
cultivator we work the ridges until they are 
nearly level. By using two horses we straddle 
the ridge, and save tramping it where our 
plants are to go. 
To get the plants we sow the seeds about 
September 1, in rather poor soil, giving them 
plenty of room; the rows being a foot apart 
and the seeds sown thinly in the rows. This 
gives us stocky and hardy plants, which, we 
think, are less liable to damp off when trans¬ 
planted. About November 1, we transplant 
the plants into cold-frames six inches apart 
each way as we wish to keep them growing a 
little all winter. The glasses are kept on at 
night and through heavy rains. In case of a 
cold snap, we cover the glasses with mats; but 
that is not often necessary for we seldom have 
a temperature colder than 16 Q above. Every 
thing depends on good plants and an early 
start in the spring, for we raise two crops the 
same season and an early frost on our unripe 
seed is sure to ruin the crop. Now, to set the 
plants out and make them grow from the 
start, a line is stretched along one of these 
flat ridges, a boy goes along and with a three- 
foot marker marks the spots for the plants; a 
man follows with a hoe and makes a hole, 
about the size of a quart dish, to receive each 
plant. During the winter we have gathered 
up 200 or 300 tomato and oyster cans, melted 
off the tops and bottoms, leaving tubes about 
five inches long by three or four across. JN ow, 
armed with a light wheelbarrow with a 
wooden tray, containing from 50 to 75 of these 
cans, we go to the cold-frame (having well 
soaked it with water the night before); take a 
can, set it right down over the plant; press 
the can into the soil about two inches, and, 
with a light shove to one side, lift the plant 
without disturbing the roots; fill our tray and 
start for the field; run the barrow between two 
rows and set a can and plant in each of the 
holes just made. A boy follows with a water¬ 
ing pot containing warm water, and pours a 
gill into each tube, which softens the soil so 
that the tubes can be lifted right out, leaving 
the plant standing in the hole. We brush a 
little dirt arouud the plant, and firm it with 
the blade of the hoe. 
Now we have our plants set, and not one 
ever wilts in the hottest spring day. In two 
or three days the cultivator is started and 
kept a going once a week until the heads be¬ 
gin to form. We hand-hoe three or four 
times, besides fighting insects. The cabbage 
maggot is our worst enemy. 
When the flowers commence to bloom out 
or form heads, is the most particular time. 
A man who thoroughly understands what a 
perfect cauliflower is, must now go through 
the field every two or three days, and examine 
every head, and if there is any sign of its 
growing in quarters, or if a leaf is growing 
through the head, or if there is any looseness 
in the growth, the heads are staked and cut 
for market. For, as like produces like, it 
will never do to get seed from an inferior 
head, especially in the case of cauliflowers; 
for the seeds from these are more apt to run 
wild than any seed I ever grew. We usually 
set a Fottler cabbage in the place from which 
the poor plant has been cut, and it makes a 
fine head by fall. 
By the middle of June we have the field 
clear of all inferior heads, and their places 
filled with late cabbages. About this time 
all the heads saved for seed are “sponging 
out” preparing to throw their seed-stalks. Now 
is our time to help them. On the upper side of 
the field, we have wooden water tanks, each 
holding about 20,000 gallons of warm water. 
The water is run into the tanks in the middle 
of the day when the sun is hot, through flat, 
open troughs, which heat it up to about 70° 
Fah. It is taken through canvas hose over 
the field and the soil is soaked to the subsoil 
Now our underdrains come into play, for all 
of the surplus water is drained off in about 
three days, and wo can start the cultivator. 
We cultivate close up to the plants. If we 
break the leaves off, it doesn’t matter, for 
they fall off anyway as soon as the seed-stalks 
start. This watering gives the plants new 
life and they start off for a second crop, or 
become biennials the first year. The water¬ 
ing and cultivation are kept up once in 10 
days until the seed-stalks are so large that 
they cannot be run through without breaking 
the plants. The seed ripens from the middle 
of September to the last of October, accord¬ 
ing to how good a start was made in the 
spring. 
The expense and trouble are not over yet. 
The seed is ripening about the time our rainy 
season sets in, and we don’t see the sun once a 
week, on an average, so that our seed must all 
be dried by fire heat. Our dry-houses are 
30x20 feet, and 18 feet high, with 2x6 inch 
joists running across the houses in tiers, on 
which we hang the seeds for drying. A 
brick furnace is built in the middle of the 
house, with the flue running through the roof. 
We usually mane three cuttings. As soon 
as the pods on the center stalks begin to turn 
yellow, and the seed a light brown, we make 
our first cutting. From one to three plants 
are put in a pile and tied with binding twine. 
The bundles are taken to the dry-house on 
wheelbarrows made with racks on purpose for 
carrying the seeds. A cloth is spread over the 
rack to catch any shelling seeds. A man car¬ 
ries about 100 bunches at a load and passes 
them up to a man in the house who hangs 
them on nails driven for the purpose. The 
seed is allowed to hang a few days to thor 
oughly ripen before firing up. We aim to 
keep the heat in the top of the house at about 
80 degrees until the seed and stalks are dry. 
The bundles are now taken down and laid 
upon a cloth where they are crushed by walk • 
ing on them. Grain sacks are then filled with 
the stalks and pods as full as they will tie up, 
and the contents are thrashed in the sacks 
with a flail. Tne seed is then sifted from the 
stalks and taken to the fanning mill, and after 
putting it through the mill two or three times, 
we set the boys to rolling it. For this purpose 
we have a board 2 l A feet long by one foot 
wide with thin strips nailed on the sides to 
keep the seed from rolling off. A boy sits 
down on a cloth with a pan of seed by his 
side, and holds one end of the board in his lap, 
while the other end rests on the cloth. He 
puts a handful of seed on the top end of the 
board and gently shakes it. All of the sound, 
plump seeds run off on to the cloth, while the 
shriveled seeds, bits of stalk, dirt, weed seeds, 
etc., remain on the board. A smart Indian 
boy will clean 10 pounds a day at a cost of 
50 cents and his board. Now the seed is 
sacked in double cotton sacks, holding about 
10 pounds each and is ready for market. 
H. A. MARCH. 
Fidalgo Island, Puget Sound, Washington 
Territory. 
SILAGE STACK DEVICE. 
At Fig. 382 is shown a picture of an ar 
rangement quite extensively used in England, 
where open-air silage is quite a feature of 
farming. The hay is placed in a regular 
stack on the ground or raised on a rick or 
Fig. 382. 
platform. A’system of stout slats, connected 
by means of chains, is thrown over the top 
and pulled into place, as shown in the picture. 
This arrangement is not much used in this 
country as yet. 
CLOVER SILAGE. 
We sent you by express, yesterday, a small 
box containing two samples of clover silage. 
The first sample is taken at a point about three 
feet in from the wall, while the second is from 
that portion lying immediately against the 
wall. You will observe that neither sample 
shows mold, and will agree with me, I think, in 
the statement that it is first-class feed for cows, 
colts, sheep, pigs or any farm stock. The sam¬ 
ples sent were made from rather poor first-crop 
clover owing to the fact that the clover grew 
so rank that it fell some time before we cut it 
so that the lower leaves on the stems had large¬ 
ly decayed. 
My purpose in sending this silage is to call 
your attention to a plant which seems emin¬ 
ently adapted to silo purposes, but which has 
heretofore been almost entirely neglected. I 
believe that Indian corn is, all things consider¬ 
ed, the best plant we have for silo purposes, but 
that, next to this, stands the common Red 
Clover which indeed possesses some possible 
advantages over the corn. Our farmers usual¬ 
ly fiud considerable difficulty in curing it be¬ 
cause of rains which greatly increase the labor 
of harvesting and rapidly spoil the product. 
The silo offers means of saving all the food 
value of the clover at a very low cost. The 
green clover, fresh from the mower, can be 
bunched with the horse rake or, better yet, 
with the old-fashioned revoling rake and load¬ 
ed at once on wagons and Hauled to the 
silo where it can be unloaded without first 
putting it through the cutter. By these means 
no leaves are shattered and all of the food 
value is retained excepting what may be lost 
by fermentation. While I admit this loss is 
considerable, I believe it is or can be made 
much less than the average which results from 
field curing as now practiced. The writer has 
stood almost alone in his advocacy of clover 
for the silo, but he believes that ere long many 
farmers will use this plant for the purpose here 
mentioned. A - henry. 
Wisconsin Experiment Station. 
r. N. Y.—The clover was received in excel¬ 
lent condition. It had a pleasant smell and 
an agreeable taste. It stood in a warm room 
three days and was then fed to a horse and 
milch cow. Both animals ate it greedily— 
evidently preferring it to hay which lay in the 
mangers at the time. 
RANDOM NOTES. 
W. G. WARING. 
Somebody writes of the superiority of the 
