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“I never have any trouble; I go through my garden daily.” “To come to a point—what do you do about the phlox” “You must be on the alert, and save all you can.” . “Now, Weeville,” I said, sternly, for he was in the act of buttoning up his coat to go, as though the discussion were over, “I do not believe you know any thing about it.” “What—what—what's that you say?” “I do not believe you are any better acquainted with the right mode of gathering seeds than I am.” “Well,” he replied, as he went out of the door, with a pleasant Smile, “the fact is, I do generally get a new supply every year from Thorburn.” Before I had fully recovered from my surprise at this discovery, and when I was remembering how, every year, the oldest farmers and gardeners were to be seen running into the seed-stores to buy what they should have saved if they had known how, Patrick thrust his head in at the door. “Can I spake to yer honor a moment?” “Certainly, Patrick.” “And is it thrue, what Mr. Weeville says, that the devil’s been seen on the earth ?” .

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“It is so alleged in the papers,” I replied, “and you know whatever is stated there must be true.” “Yes, yer honor,” he answered, evidently referring in his own mind to a temporary connection of mine with that palladium of freedom. “And sure,” he continued, as he approached cautiously, “and what is he like?” “He is described as being forty feet high, spitting fire from his mouth and nostrils, and with huge horns over his eyes.” “That's awful intirely; but there's prophecies in the Good Book that he should be let loose on the earth, but I didn’t think it was to be quite yet. Was it far from here that he was o' “Yes, more than a thousand miles.” “Sure and that’s pleasant, for it ain’t likely he’ll get this far.” “That is not so certain,” I replied, to lead him on. “IIe has a habit of going up and down on the earth.” “But it would fake him a long time to travel that distance.” “The devil, if it really was he, could go a thouSand miles in an instant.” “Could he, now? Well, I suppose he don’t go by rail, more especially like the one that runs from New York to Flushing. Perhaps he travels on the telegraph wires, that, they say, takes a letter along so fast you can’t see it. Well, well, if he comes this

way, all I have to say is, he’ll get great gatherins in Flushing.”

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Tur agricultural books all tell us that, at the - close of the season, we should look back and review the work that we have accomplished, comparing it with previous results, or studying where improvements could be effected. Our second year was certainly a great advance upon the first, as the former might be said to have been rather a case for what the merchants call profit and loss—all loss and no profit, so far as actual production is concerned. The previous attempt had resulted in raising absolutely nothing, whereas our subsequent one had raised a great deal; we had much to show for it, although not always exactly what we wanted. There was ample room for improvement, and there were abundant errors manifestly requiring correction. We did not need an acre of onions, that was perfectly clear, as the servants could consume but a limited quantity, which fell off rapidly when they were told they could have all they wanted, and the residue did not seem to have a positive market value, Patrick vainly offering them at any price to every market-man in Flush

ing; so it was evident that we should not require as

many the ensuing season. Onions are rather a pretty vegetable, and grateful for the least care. They grow readily; in fact, like the would-be “butcher boy,” they are bound to do it. They come up so well that they come clear up above ground in their effort, and show their luscious yellow or white bulbs above the surface. When these first began to swell I proceeded to earth them over, fearing lest their nakedness should expose them to injury; but, as the plot devoted to their service was rather large, and Patrick utterly refused to assist me, being invariably too busy whenever I called upon him to help cover the onions, and insisting that “they

didn’t made it at all, at all, and that it was ruinin’

them I was intirely,” Ifinally abandoned the attempt. It was some time ere my fears for the result were removed, and the discovery made that Onions could take care of themselves. It is a pity egg-plants do not grow as obstinately as Onions; they do not, however, nor do most other good things.

Peas are a profitable crop—that is, if they are not dwarfs, or do not go to leaf, as Ours did ; and there

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