From these we walked over to the blackberries. They, too, had grown finely under my thorough culture of the ground. Besides sending up good canes which promised a fair crop the next season, each root had sent up several suckers, some of them several feet away, and out of the line of the row. These I had intended to sell, and had preserved as many as possible, knowing there would be a demand for all. The interest in the new berry had rapidly extended all round among my neighbors, and I very soon discovered that my nurseryman wanted to buy. In fact, I believe he came more for that purpose than to see how I was doing. But I talked offish—spoke of having engaged two or three lots, and could hardly speak with certainty. Finally, he offered to give me a receipt for the $120 he was to receive out of the strawberries he had sold me, and pay me $100 down, for a thousand blackberry plants. Though I felt pretty sure I could do better, yet I closed with him. As he had evidently come prepared with money to clinch some sort of bargain, he produced it and paid me on the spot. He afterwards retailed nearly all of the plants for a much larger sum. But it was a good bargain for both of us. It paid me well, and was all clear profit.
I may add that these blackberry roots came into more active demand from that time until the next spring; and when spring opened, more suckers came up, as if knowing they were wanted. These, with my previous stock, amounted to a large number. A seed-man in the city advertised them for sale, and took retail orders for me. His sales, with my own, absorbed every root I could spare. When they had all been disposed of, and my receipts were footed up, I found that they amounted to four hundred and sixty dollars, leaving me three hundred and forty dollars clear, after paying for my strawberry plants.
This was far better than I had anticipated. It may sound curiously now, when the plants can be had so cheaply, but it is a true picture of the market at the time of which I write. It is the great profit to be realized from the sale of new plants that stimulates their cultivation. Many men have made fortunes from the sale of a new fruit or flower, and others are repeating the operation now. In fact, it is the hope of this great gain that has given to the world so many new and valuable plants, some originated from seed, some by hybridization, some from solitary hiding-places in the woods and mountains, and some by importation from distant countries. Success in one thing stimulates to exertion for another, and thus the race of a vast and intelligent competition is maintained. But the public is the greatest gainer after all.
My profits from this source, the first year, may by some be regarded as an exceptional thing, to be realized only by the fortunate few, and not to be regularly counted on. But this is not the case. There are thousands of cultivators who are constantly in the market as purchasers. If it were not so, the vast nursery establishments which exist all over the country could not be maintained. Every fruit-grower, like myself, has been compelled to buy in the beginning of his operations; but his turn for selling has invariably come round. As a general rule, whatever outlay a beginner makes in supplying himself with the smaller fruits, is afterwards reimbursed from the sale of surplus plants he does not need. This sale occurs annually, and in time will far exceed his original outlay.
If the plants be rare in the market, and if he should have gone into the propagation at a very early day, before prices have found their lowest level, his profits will be the larger. Hence the utmost watchfulness of the market should be maintained. New plants, better breeds of animals, and in fact every improvement connected with agriculture, if judiciously adopted at the earliest moment, will generally be found to pay, even after allowing for losses on the numerous cheats which are continually turning up.
CHAPTER XII.
PIGS AND POULTRY—LUCK AND ILL LUCK.
VERY early after taking possession, I invested twelve dollars in the purchase of seven pigs of the ordinary country breed. They were wanted to eat the many odds and ends which are yielded by ten acres, a good garden, and the kitchen. I did not look for much money profit from them, but I knew they were great as architects in building up a manure heap. Yet they were capital things with which to pack a meat-tub at Christmas, saving money from the butcher, as well as much running abroad to market. They shared with the cow in the abundant trimmings and surplus from the garden, eating many things which she rejected, and appropriating all the slop from the kitchen. In addition to this, we fed them twice a day with boiled bran, sometimes with a handful of corn meal, but never upon whole corn. This cooking of the food was no great trouble in the kitchen, but its effect on the pigs was most beneficial. They grew finely, except one which died after four months’ feeding, but from what cause could not be ascertained.
The consequence was, that when October came round, the six remaining ones were estimated by Dick to average at least one hundred and fifty pounds each, and were in prime condition for fattening. In the early part of that month their supply of cooked mush was increased. I am of opinion that farmers leave the fattening of their hogs too late, and that a month on corn, before December, is worth three months after it. By the tenth of December they were ready for the butcher, and on being killed, were found to average two hundred and twenty-four pounds, or nine hundred and forty-four in all. This being three times as much as we needed for home use, the remainder was sent to the store, where it netted me forty-nine dollars.
I am quite certain there was a profit on these pigs. They consumed quantities of refuse tomatoes, and devoured parsnips with the greatest eagerness. One day I directed Dick to cut up some stalks of our green sweet corn, by means of the fodder-cutter, which delivers them in pieces half an inch long, and mix them with bran for the pigs. I found they consumed it with great avidity. Ever after that they were served twice daily with the same mess. It seemed to take the place of stronger food, as well as of grass, and was an acceptable variety. In this way the money cost of food was kept at a low figure, and the labor we spent on the pigs showed itself in the fine yield of prime pork, which brought the highest price in the market. The yield of rich manure was also very satisfactory, all which, at intervals through the season, was removed from the pen and put under cover, for manure thus housed from the sun and rain is worth about double that which is exposed all the year round. This was another item of profit: if the pigs had not manufactured it, money would have been required to pay for its equivalent.
After these six had been killed, I purchased seven others, some two months old, having abundance of roots, offal cabbages, and a stack of the sweet-corn fodder on hand. These seven cost the same as the others, twelve dollars. As Dick was found to be a good, trustworthy fellow, he was to be kept all the year round; and as he would be hanging about the barnyard during the winter, when the ground was wet and sloppy, looking after the horse and cow, the pigs would help to fill up his time. The cooking of food for both cow and pigs was a great novelty to him. At first he could not be made to believe in it. When I ventured to insinuate to him that it would be any thing but agreeable to him to eat his dinners raw, the force of the idea did not strike him. So much is there in the power of long-established habit. Yet he did condescend to admit that he knew all pigs throve better on plenty of common kitchen-swill than on almost any thing else. I told him there was but one reason for this, and that was because all such swill had been cooked. When the improvement made by the first lot of pigs became too manifest for even him to dispute, he, together with the pigs, acknowledged the corn and gave in.