These garden-trees were terribly scarified by the worms. But the cleaning out I gave them was effectual. The soap-suds purged the injured parts of the unhealthy virus deposited by the worms, leaving them so nice and clean that the new bark began immediately to close over the cavities, and soon covered them entirely. I thus saved ten valuable bearing trees. Then I shortened in the long, straggling branches, for the peach will certainly grow sprawling out on every side, forming long branches which break down under the weight of a full crop at their extremities, unless the pruning-knife is freely used every season. All this was the work of less than a day, and shows that if peach-orchards perish after bearing only two or three crops, it may be attributed solely to mere neglect and laziness on the part of their owners. They plant trees, refuse to take care of them, and then complain if they die early. The world would soon be without pork, if all the pigs were as much neglected. These ten trees have never failed to produce me generous crops of luscious fruit. I cannot think of any investment which has paid me better than the slight labor annually required to keep them in good condition.
I have tried with entire success two other methods of protecting peach-trees from the ravages of the worm. I have found gas-tar equally effectual with the common tar, and much more easily obtained. But care must be taken not to cover a height of more than four to six inches of the butt of the tree. If the whole stem from root to branch be covered, the tree will surely die. Another method is to inclose the butt in a jacket of pasteboard, or even thick hardware paper, keeping it in place with a string, and lowering it an inch or two below the ground, so as to prevent the fly having access to the soft part of the bark. These jackets will last two or three years, as they should be taken off at the approach of winter, to prevent them from becoming a harbor for insects. But they are an infallible preventive. I have recently procured a supply of the thick tarred felt which is used for making paper roofs, to be cut up and turned into jackets. This material will last for years, being water-proof, while the odor of the gas-tar in which it has been steeped is peculiarly offensive to the whole tribe of insects.
CHAPTER VII.
PLANTING RASPBERRIES AND STRAWBERRIES—TRICKS OF THE NURSERY.
MY peach-orchard was no sooner finished than I filled each row with raspberries, setting the roots two feet apart in the rows. This enabled me to get seven roots in between every two trees, or five thousand six hundred and fifty-six in all. This was equivalent to nearly two acres wholly planted with raspberries according to the usual plan. They would go on growing without injuring the peach-trees, or being injured by them; and when the latter should reach their full growth, their shade would be highly beneficial to the raspberries, as they thrive better and bear more freely when half protected from the burning sun. The tops were cut off within a few inches of the ground, thus preventing any excessive draft upon the newly planted roots. No staking up was needed. These roots cost me six dollars per thousand, or thirty-four dollars for the lot, and were the ordinary Red Antwerp. The season proving showery, they grew finely. Some few died, but my general luck was very satisfactory. I planted the whole lot in three days with my own hands.
I am sure the growth of my raspberries was owing, in a great degree, to the deep ploughing the land had received. The soil they delight in is one combining richness, depth, and moisture. It is only from such that a full crop may be expected every season. The roots must have abundance of elbow-room to run down and suck up moisture from the abundant reservoir which exists below. Deep ploughing will save them from the effects of dry weather, which otherwise will blast the grower’s hopes, giving him a small berry, shrivelled up from want of moisture, instead of one of ample size, rich, and juicy. Hence irrigation has been known to double the size of raspberries, as well as doubling the growth of the canes in a single season. Mulching also is a capital thing. One row so treated, by way of experiment, showed a marked improvement over all the others, besides keeping down the weeds.
As a market fruit the raspberry stands on the same list with the best, and I am satisfied that one cannot produce too much. For this purpose I consider the Red Antwerp most admirably adapted. There are twenty other varieties, some of which are probably quite as valuable, but I was unwilling to have my attention divided among many sorts. One really good berry was enough for me. Some of my neighbors have as much as ten acres in this fruit, from which they realize prodigious profits. Like all the smaller fruits, it yields a quick return to an industrious and pains-taking cultivator.
Immediately on getting my raspberries in, I went twice over the six acres with the cultivator, stirring up the ground some four inches deep, as it had been a good deal trampled down by our planting operations. This I did myself, with a thirty-dollar horse which I had recently bought. Having eighteen feet between two rows of peach-trees, I divided this space into five rows for strawberries, giving me very nearly three feet between each row. In these rows I set the strawberry plants, one foot apart, making about 10,000 plants per acre, allowing for the headlands. I bought the whole 60,000 required for $2 per thousand, making $120. This was below the market price.
In planting these I got three of the children to help me, and though it was more tiresome work than they had ever been accustomed to, yet they stood bravely up to it. Every noon we four went home with raging appetites for dinner, where the plain but well-cooked fare provided by my wife and eldest daughter—for she kept no servant—was devoured with genuine country relish. The exercise in the open air for the whole week which it took us to get through this job did us all a vast amount of good. Roses came into the cheeks of my daughters, to which the cheeks aforesaid had been strangers in the city; and it was the general remark among us at breakfast, that it had never felt so good to get to bed the night before. Thus honest labor brought wholesome appetites and sound repose. Most of us complained of joints a little stiffened by so much stooping, but an hour’s exercise at more stooping made us limber for the remainder of the day.
It occupied us a whole week to set out these plants, for we were all new hands at the business. But the work was carefully done, and a shower coming on just as we had finished, it settled the earth nicely to the roots, and I do not think more than two hundred of them died. I intended to put a pinch of guano compost or a handful of poudrette into each hill, but thought I could not afford it, and so let them go, trusting to being able to give them a dressing of some kind of manure the following spring. I much regretted this omission, as I was fully aware of the great value of the best strawberries, and plenty of them. My wife thought at first that six acres was an enormous quantity to have—inquired if I expected to feed the family on strawberries, and whether it was not worth while to set about raising some sugar to go with them, feeling certain that a great deal of that would be wanted.
I forgot to say that I had planted Wilson’s Albany Seedling. This was the berry for which we had been compelled to pay such high prices while living in the city. Everybody testified to its being the most profuse bearer, while its great size and handsome shape made it eagerly sought after in the market. It was admitted, all things considered, to be the best market berry then known. My experience has confirmed this. True, it is a little tarter than most other varieties, and therefore requires more sugar to make it palatable; but this objection is more theoretical than practical, as I always noticed that when the berries came upon the table, while living in the city, we continued to pile on the sugar, no matter what the price or quantity. The berries were there, and must be eaten.