
every farmer for miles around. ‘There were no com- 
mercial fertilizers in those days, but manure, supple- 
mented by ground bone from my father’s mill, helped 
make this part of New Jersey known far and wide as 
the cream of farm lands. Cream Ridge, a nearby town, 
still remains to keep this fact alive in the memory of 
its citizens. 
The happiest days of my childhood were spent in 
this mill. As I grew up, commercial fertilizers were de- 
veloped and I helped mix by hand, hundreds of tons. 
When father died, he was president of a large fertilizer 
firm; my twin brother carries on in his place. 
Father’s Faith in Fertilizers 
My father believed in advertising and used much 
ground bone and later, commercial fertilizers, on the 
farm. ‘The crops we grew helped no little to sell our 
fertilizers. My mother was in full accord with us. Few 
farm women could boast of such beautiful flowers 
around the yard and in the house. She always gave 
our fertilizer credit, but not fully warranted, because 
much of the material used in her pots, porch boxes, etc., 
was stump dirt, as she called it. This was rotted woed 
from stumps and logs together with rotted leaves. I 
used to get it for her as a child with a wheelbarrow 
little larger than a toy. 
When I began growing Holly and other natives my 
greatest handicap was this experience with fertilizers 
and the belief I shared with my father that they would 
help any plant. The first few years were full of disap- 
pointments. I took time to bring in many natives when 
father thought I ought to have been in the cornfield or 
orchards. The fact that these became sickly looking as 
the months went by, did not make it easier for me. 
Learned by Experience 
However, I persisted and learned as I went along. 
Time and again things happened that should have 
taught me that my mistake was in trying to tame these 
natives. For instance, Hollies planted around our ice 
house, where sawdust used for keeping ice was dis- 
carded every few years, were the first to grow really 
well. Since that time I have used over 2,000 tons of 
old Oak sawdust. 
Finally, my father, who did not want me to use good 
cultivated farm land for Hollies, consented to my using, 
in one of the best of our fields, a portion that had been 
cleared only two years and on which a crop of corn had 
been poor—the ground was too sour. ‘The whole field 
was plowed at one time and I planted, the new portion 
in Hollies. It happened that some were put in the 


