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Success in any undertaking in this life is a pleasant thing. The mere accomplishment of what we are aiming at, regardless of its importance, is a satisfaction, and a satisfaction that, so far in my country experience, I had not frequently enjoyed. There, however, was the bed: it was green with thriving beauty. To be sure, there were many weeds, but there were also a few “Bonheur Seedlings.” Weeville made some disparaging remarks—something about my having a good bed in two or three years— but I felt too complacent to mind him. So, when the cold began to increase, I had Patrick cover over my treasures carefully with plenty of straw, and possessed my soul in patience for the next spring. The agriculture of modern days is very different from what it was in the times of our forefathers. Without going back to the days of Adam and Eve, when the vegetable kingdom managed itself, but after perspiration became a necessity of existence, the first gardening was rude, seeds were planted in the merest ignorance of all organic laws, and left to the fate that the earth and the waters held in store for them. Slowly, by innumerable failures, certain rules were learned, and fertilizers, rotation of crops, and suitable soils were dimly comprehended. In later days science has stepped in, and shed a flood of light on the subject. Now, before you plant a seed, you ask a chemist to analyze the soil, and ascertain exactly how much hydrogen, nitrogen, Oxygen, phosphate of lime, and other ingredients with hard names, the dirt is composed of, and then you add whatever is deficient. One of the most beautiful inventions of science is liquid manure; not that it is beautiful in itself, for it certainly is not agreeable to the senses of smell or sight, and probably not to that of taste, but it does so admirably comply with all scientific requirements. The great object in applying a fertilizer is to so subdivide its particles as to enable the finer tissues of the roots to take it up by their almost invisible mouths. Not only is this done perfectly by dissolving the material to be applied, but water, the second great essential of vegetable life, is supplied at the same time. Upon this subject all the scientific books, including my favorites, “Ten Acres Enough” and “Bridgeman's Assistant,” enter with an enthusiasm which is surprising to the novice. Of course I was a great admirer of the liquid theory, and resolved that my strawberries should not suffer from its want. * - - +. Nothing, however could be done till the following spring, and we must anticipate events to give the conclusion of the attempt. It was with some anxiety that Iwatched the removal of the straw covering the next April, and with no little relief did I observe that the “Bonheur Seedlings”—if they could be so called now that they had attained maturity—were still there; not quite so numerous, perhaps, as when they were covered up, and not by any means the original two thousand, but still to the number of several scores. The first thing to do was to give them a strong fertilizer, and that must be liquid. The drainings from the kitchen had been led into a sink, and, having fermented during winter, complied with all the requisites for this valuable nourishment. So deeply

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had I been impressed with the necessity of saving

every thing that could supply plant-food, so entirely
was I convinced of the force of scientific arguments,
and the duty which every man owes to his country
in aiding the fertility of her fields, that not a drop
of the precious liquid had been wasted.
Patrick stared when he was told to water the
plants with it, and murmured something about “its
being too hot”—quite an Irish absurdity, considering
it had been out all winter—but obeyed orders, and
soon had a nice coating of what looked much like
whitewash over the entire bed. After a day or two
the “Bonheurs” were examined, and, not seeming
very strong, were treated to a second watering; then,
as they did not improve, fresh waterings were given
them. In case of sickness science is our only re-
source, and, although Patrick ignorantly begged to
have them left to themselves, the liquid fertilizer
was applied steadily. It was given to them early
and late; the weaker and paler they became, the
more they had of it; once a day, twice a day, even
three times a day, was the dose exhibited.
I am now satisfied that the “Bonheur Seedling” is
not a success—it is not a sufficiently hardy plant for

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our climate. They may be good bearers—of this I can not speak—but they can not be called vigorous. By the first of June the last had wilted away, in spite of steady waterings with the best liquid manure. My experience in this matter is of great value to the public; for, while I can advise no one to invest in “Bonheur Seedlings,” I can thoroughly indorse the virtues of that universally praised and admirably scientific liquid fertilizer—the washings from the kitchen sink, and earnestly urge all young gardeners never to omit the use of it on their beds. If any thing can insure the success of the strawberry—even the “Bonheur Seedling”—it is this invaluable compost, and the directions for saving it contained in all agricultural works are well worth following, in spite of the trouble they entail. No one who uses it will fail to thank science for the benefits that it has conferred on agriculture. It is true that in my case it was not quite equal to the occasion, and I had to buy new plants and set them out in the spring; but I always regretted that the sink-water was exhausted ere this was done, for I felt sure that on any species but the feeble “Bonheur” so thoroughly scientific a fertilizer would have had a prodigious effect. This very interesting matter has led us somewhat ahead of our story, and, although it seemed essential

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