The wide and favorable consideration given to small fruits clearly marks one of the changes in the world's history. This change may seem trifling indeed to the dignified chroniclers of kings and queens and others of high descent—great descent, it may be added, remembering the moral depths attained; but to those who care for the welfare of the people, it is a mutation of no slight interest. I am glad to think, as has been shown in a recent novel, that Lucrezia Borgia was not so black as she has been painted; yet in the early days of June and July, when strawberries and raspberries are ripening, I fancy that most of us can dismiss her and her kin from mind as we observe Nature's alchemy in our gardens. When we think of the luscious, health-imparting fruits which will grace millions of tables, and remember that until recent years they were conspicuous only by their absence, we may not slightingly estimate a great change for the better. Once these fruits were wildings which the vast majority of our forefathers shared sparingly with the birds. Often still, unless we are careful, our share will be small indeed; for the unperverted taste of the birds discovered from the first what men have been so slow to learn—that the ruby-like berries are the gems best worth seeking. The world is certainly progressing toward physical redemption when even the Irish laborer abridges his cabbage-patch for the sake of small fruits—food which a dainty Ariel could not despise.
We have said that raspberries thrive in partial shade; and therefore some advice in regard to them naturally follows our consideration of trees. Because the raspberry is not so exacting as are many other products of the garden, it does not follow that it should be marked out for neglect. As it is treated on many places, the only wonder is that even the bushes survive. Like many who try to do their best in adversity, it makes the most of what people term "a chance to get ahead."
Moreover, the raspberry is perhaps as often injured by mistaken kindness as by neglect. If we can imagine it speaking for itself, it would say: "It is not much that I want, but in the name of common-sense and nature give me just what I do want; then you may pick at me to your heart's content."
The first need of the raspberry is a well-drained but not a very dry, light soil. Yet such is its adaptability that certain varieties can be grown on any land which will produce a burdock or a mullien-stalk. In fact, this question of variety chiefly determines our chances of success and the nature of our treatment of the fruit. The reader, at the start, should be enabled to distinguish the three classes of raspberries grown in this country.
As was true of grapes, our fathers first endeavored to supply their gardens from foreign nurseries, neglecting the wild species with which our woods and roadsides abounded. The raspberry of Europe (Rubus idaeus) has been developed, and in many instances enfeebled, by ages of cultivation. Nevertheless, few other fruits have shown equal power to adapt themselves to our soil and climate, and we have obtained from foreign sources many valuable kinds—as, for instance, the Antwerp, which for weeks together annually taxed the carrying power of Hudson River steamers. In quality these foreign kinds have never been surpassed; but almost invariably they have proved tender and fastidious, thriving well in some localities, and failing utterly (except under the most skilful care) in others. The frosts of the North killed them in winter, and Southern suns shrivelled their foliage in summer. Therefore they were not raspberries for the million, but for those who resided in favored regions, and were willing to bestow upon them much care and high culture.
Eventually another process began, taking place either by chance or under the skilful manipulation of the gardener—that of hybridizing, or crossing these foreign varieties with our hardier native species. The best results have been attained more frequently, I think, by chance; that is, the bees, which get more honey from the raspberry than from most other plants, carried the pollen from a native flower to the blossom of the garden exotic. The seeds of the fruit eventually produced were endowed with characteristics of both the foreign and native strains. Occasionally these seeds fell where they had a chance to grow, and so produced a fortuitous seedling plant which soon matured into a bearing bush, differing from, both of its parents, and not infrequently surpassing both in good qualities. Some one horticulturally inclined having observed the unusually fine fruit on the chance plant, and believing that it is a good plan to help the fittest to survive, marked the bush, and in the autumn transferred it to his garden. It speedily propagated itself by suckers, or young sprouts from the roots, and he had plants to sell or give away. Such, I believe, was the history of the Cuthbert—named after the gentleman who found it, and now probably the favorite raspberry of America.
Thus fortuitously, or by the skill of the gardener, the foreign and our native species were crossed, and a new and hardier class of varieties obtained. The large size and richness in flavor of the European berry has been bred into and combined with our smaller and more insipid indigenous fruit. By this process the area of successful raspberry culture has been extended almost indefinitely.
Within recent years a third step forward has been taken. Some localities and soils were so unsuited to the raspberry that no variety containing even a small percentage of the foreign element could thrive. This fact led fruit-growers to give still closer attention to our native species. Wild bushes were found here and there which gave fruit of such good quality and in such large quantities that they were deemed well worthy of cultivation. Many of these wild specimens accepted cultivation gratefully, and showed such marked improvement that they were heralded over the land as of wonderful and surpassing value. Some of these pure, unmixed varieties of our native species (Rubus strigosus) have obtained a wide celebrity; as, for instance, the Brandywine, Highland Hardy, and, best of all, the Turner. It should be distinctly understood, however, that, with the exception of the last-named kind, these native varieties are decidedly inferior to most of the foreign berries and their hybrids or crosses, like the Cuthbert and Marlboro. Thousands have been misled by their praise, and have planted them when they might just as easily have grown far better kinds. I suppose that many wealthy persons in the latitudes of New York and Boston have told their gardeners (or more probably were told by them): "We do not wish any of those wild kinds. Brinckle's Orange, Franconia, and the Antwerp are good enough for us." So they should be, for they are the best; but they are all foreign varieties, and scarcely will live at all, much less be productive, in wide areas of the country.
I trust that this preliminary discussion in regard to red raspberries will prepare the way for the advice to follow, and enable the proprietor of the Home Acre to act intelligently. Sensible men do not like to be told, "You cannot do this, and must not do that"—in other words, to be met the moment they step into their gardens by the arbitrary dictum of A, B, or C. They wish to unite with Nature in producing certain results. Understanding her simple laws, they work hopefully, confidently; and they cannot be imposed upon by those who either wittingly or unwittingly give bad advice. Having explained the natural principles on which I base my directions, I can expect the reader to follow each step with the prospect of success and enjoyment much enhanced.
The question first arising is, What shall we plant? As before, I shall give the selection of eminent authorities, then suggest to the reader the restrictions under which he should make a choice for his own peculiar soil and climate.
Dr. F. M. Hexamer, the well-known editor of a leading horticultural journal, is recognized throughout the land as having few, if any, superiors in recent and practical acquaintance with small fruits. The following is his selection: "Cuthbert, Turner, and Marlboro." The Hon. Marshall P. Wilder's choice: "Brinckle's Orange, Franconia, Cuthbert, Herstine, Shaffer." The Hon. Norman J. Colman, Commissioner of Agriculture: "Turner, Marlboro, Cuthbert." P. J. Berckmans, of Georgia: "Cuthbert, Hansel, Lost Rubies, Imperial Red." A. S. Fuller: "Turner, Cuthbert, Hansel."
In analyzing this list we find three distinctly foreign kinds named: the Orange, Franconia, and Herstine. If the last is not wholly of foreign origin, the element of our native species enters into it so slightly that it will not endure winters in our latitude, or the summer sun of the South. For excellence, however, it is unsurpassed.
In the Cuthbert, Marlboro, and Lost Rubies we have hybrids of the foreign and our native species, forming the second class referred to; in the Turner and Hansel, examples of our native species unmixed. To each of these classes might be added a score of other varieties which have been more or less popular, but they would serve only to distract the reader's attention. I have tested forty or fifty kinds side by side at one time, only to be shown that four or five varieties would answer all practical purposes. I can assure the reader, however, that it will be scarcely possible to find a soil or climate where some of these approved sorts will not thrive abundantly and at slight outlay.
Throughout southern New England, along the bank of the Hudson, and westward, almost any raspberry can be grown with proper treatment. There are exceptions, which are somewhat curious. For instance, the famous Hudson River Antwerp, which until within a very few years has been one of the great crops of the State, has never been grown successfully to any extent except on the west bank of the river, and within the limited area of Kingston on the north and Cornwall on the south. The Franconia, another foreign sort, has proved itself adapted to more extended conditions of soil and climate.
I have grown successfully nearly every well-known raspberry, and perhaps I can best give the instruction I desire to convey by describing the methods finally adopted after many years of observation, reading, and experience. I will speak of the class first named, belonging to the foreign species, of which I have tested many varieties. I expect to set out this year rows of Brinckle's Orange, Franconia, Hudson River Antwerp, and others. For this class I should make the ground very rich, deep, and mellow. I should prefer to set out the plants in the autumn—from the middle of October to the tenth of November; if not then, in early spring—the earlier the better—while the buds are dormant. I should have the rows four feet apart; and if the plants were to be grown among the smaller fruit-trees, I should maintain a distance from them of at least seven feet. I should use only young plants, those of the previous summer's growth, and set them in the ground about as deeply as they stood when taken up—say three or four inches of earth above the point from which the roots branched. I should put two well-rooted plants in each hill, and this would make the hills four feet apart each way. By "hills" I do not mean elevations of ground. This should be kept level throughout all future cultivation. I should cut back the canes or stems of the plants to six inches. Thousands of plants are lost or put back in their growth by leaving two or three feet of the canes to grow the first year. Never do this. The little fruit gained thus prematurely always entails a hundred-fold of loss. Having set out the plants, I should next scatter over and about them one or two shovelfuls of old compost or decayed manure of some kind. If the plants had been set out in the fall, I should mound the earth over them before freezing weather, so that there should be at least four inches of soil over the tops of the stems. This little mound of earth over the plants or hill would protect against all injury from frost. In the spring I should remove these mounds of earth so as to leave the ground perfectly level on all sides, and the shortened canes projecting, as at first, six inches above the surface. During the remainder of the spring and summer the soil between the plants chiefly requires to be kept open, mellow, and free from weeds. In using the hoe, be careful not to cut off the young raspberry sprouts, on which the future crop depends. Do not be disappointed if the growth seems feeble the first year, for these foreign kinds are often slow in starting. In November, before there is any danger of the ground freezing, I should cut back the young canes at least one-third of their length, bend them gently down, and cover them with earth to the depth of four or five inches. It must be distinctly remembered that very few of the foreign kinds would endure our winter unprotected. Every autumn they must be covered as I have directed. Is any one aghast at this labor? Nonsense! Antwerps are covered by the acre along the Hudson. A man and a boy would cover in an hour all that are needed for a garden.
After the first year the foreign varieties, like all others, will send up too many sprouts, or suckers. Unless new plants are wanted, these should be treated as weeds, and only from three to five young canes be left to grow in each hill. This is a very important point, for too often the raspberry-patch is neglected until it is a mass of tangled bushes. Keep this simple principle in mind: there is a given amount of root-power; if this cannot be expended in making young sprouts all over the ground, it goes to produce a few strong fruit-bearing canes in the hill. In other words, you restrict the whole force of the plant to the precise work required—the giving of berries. As the original plants grow older, they will show a constantly decreasing tendency to throw up new shoots, but as long as they continue to grow, let only those survive which are designed to bear the following season.
The canes of cultivated raspberries are biennial. A young and in most varieties a fruitless cane is produced in one season; it bears in July the second year, and then its usefulness is over. It will continue to live in a half-dying way until fall, but it is a useless and unsightly life. I know that it is contended by some that the foliage on the old canes aids in nourishing the plants; but I think that, under all ordinary circumstances, the leaves on the young growth are abundantly sufficient. By removing the old canes after they have borne their fruit, an aspect of neatness is imparted, which would be conspicuously absent were they left. Every autumn, before laying the canes down, I should shorten them in one-third. The remaining two-thirds will give more fruit by actual measurement, and the berries will be finer and larger, than if the canes were left intact. From first to last the soil about the foreign varieties should be maintained in a high degree of fertility and mellowness. Of manures from the barnyard, that from the cow-stable is the best; wood-ashes, bone-dust, and decayed leaves also are excellent fertilizers. During all this period the partial shade of small trees will be beneficial rather than otherwise, for it should be remembered that sheltered localities are the natural habitat of the raspberry.
By a little inquiry the reader can learn whether varieties of the foreign class are grown successfully in his vicinity. If they are, he can raise them also by following the directions which have been given. Brinckle's Orange—a buff-colored berry—is certainly one of the most beautiful, delicate, and delicious fruits in existence, and is well worth all the care it requires in the regions where it will grow; while the Franconia and others should never be permitted to die out by fruit connoisseurs. If the soil of your garden is light and sandy, or if you live much south of New York, I should not advise their trial. They may be grown far to the north, however. I am told that tender varieties of fruits that can be covered thrive even better in Canada than with us. There deep snow protects the land, and in spring and autumn they do not have long periods when the bare earth is alternately freezing and thawing.
In the second class of raspberries, the crosses between the foreign and native species, we now have such fine varieties that no one has much cause for regret if he can raise them; and I scarcely see how he can help raising them if he has sufficient energy to set out a few plants and keep them free from weeds and superabundant suckers. Take the Cuthbert, for instance; you may set it out almost anywhere, and in almost any latitude except that of the extreme Southern States. But you must reverse the conditions required for the foreign kinds. If the ground is very rich, the canes will threaten to grow out of sight. I advise that this strong-growing sort be planted in rows five feet apart. Any ordinary soil is good enough for the Cuthbert to start in, and the plants will need only a moderate degree of fertilizing as they begin to lose a little of their first vigor. Of course, if the ground is unusually light and poor, it should be enriched and maintained in a fair degree of fertility. The point I wish to make is that this variety will thrive where most others would starve; but there is plenty of land on which anything will starve. The Cuthbert is a large, late berry, which continues long in bearing, and is deserving of a place in every garden. I have grown it for many years, and have never given it any protection whatever. Occasionally there comes a winter which kills the canes to the ground. I should perhaps explain to the reader here that even in the case of the tender foreign kinds it is only the canes that are killed by the frost; the roots below the surface are uninjured, and throw up vigorous sprouts the following spring. The Cuthbert is so nearly hardy that we let it take its chances, and probably in eight winters out of ten it would stand unharmed. Its hardiness is greatly enhanced when grown on well-drained soils.
It now has a companion berry in the Marlboro—a variety but recently introduced, and therefore not thoroughly tested as yet. Its promise, however, is very fine, and it has secured the strong yet qualified approval of the best fruit critics. It requires richer soil and better treatment than the Cuthbert, and it remains to be seen whether it is equally hardy. It is well worth winter protection if it is not. It is not a suitable berry for the home garden if no other is grown, for the reason that it matures its entire crop within a brief time, and thus would give a family but a short season of raspberries. Cultivated in connection with the Cuthbert, it would be admirable, for it is very early, and would produce its fruit before the Cuthberts were ripe. Unitedly the two varieties would give a family six weeks of raspberries. There are scores of other kinds in this class, and some are very good indeed, well worth a place in an amateur's collection; but the two already named are sufficient to supply a family with excellent fruit.
Of the third class of red raspberries, representing our pure native species, I should recommend only one variety—the Turner; and that is so good that it deserves a place in every collection. It certainly is a remarkable raspberry, and has an unusual history, which I have given in my work "Success with Small Fruits." I doubt whether there is a hardier raspberry in America—one that can be grown so far to the north, and, what is still more in its favor, so far to the south. In the latter region it is known as the Southern Thornless. The fact that it is almost wholly without spines is a good quality; but it is only one among many others. The Turner requires no winter protection whatever, will grow on almost any soil in existence, and in almost any climate. It yields abundantly medium-sized berries of good flavor. The fruit begins to ripen early, and lasts throughout a somewhat extended season. It will probably give more berries, with more certainty and less trouble, than any other variety. Even its fault leans to virtue's side. Set out a single plant, leave it to Nature, and in time it will cover the place with Turner raspberries; and yet it will do this in a quiet, unobtrusive way, for it is not a rampant, ugly grower. While it will persist in living under almost any circumstances, I have found no variety that responded more gratefully to good treatment. This consists simply in three things: (1) rigorous restriction of the suckers to four or five canes in the hill; (2) keeping the soil clean and mellow about the bearing plants; (3) making this soil rich. Its dwarf habit of growth, unlike that of the Cuthbert, enables one to stimulate it with any kind of manure. By this course the size of the bushes is greatly increased, and enormous crops can be obtained.
I prefer to set out all raspberries in the fall, although as a matter of convenience I often perform the task in the early spring. I do not believe in late spring planting, except as one takes up a young sprout, two or three inches high, and sets it out as one would a tomato-plant. By this course time is often saved. When it is our wish to increase the quality and quantity of the fruit, I should advise that the canes of all varieties be cut back one-third of their length. A little observation will teach us the reason for this. Permit a long cane to bear throughout its natural length, and you will note that many buds near the ground remain dormant or make a feeble growth. The sap, following a general law of nature, pushes to the extremities, and is, moreover, too much diffused. Cut away one-third, and all the buds start with redoubled vigor, while more and larger fruit is the result. If, however, earliness in ripening is the chief consideration, as it often is, especially with the market-gardener, leave the canes unpruned, and the fruit ripens a few days sooner.
In purveying for the home table, white raspberries offer the attractions of variety and beauty. In the case of Brinckle's Orange, its exquisite flavor is the chief consideration; but this fastidious foreign berry is practically beyond the reach, of the majority. There is, however, an excellent variety, the Caroline, which is almost as hardy as the Turner, and more easily grown. It would seem that Nature designed every one to have it (if we may say IT of Caroline), for not only does it sucker freely like the red raspberries, but the tips of the canes also bend over, take root, and form new plants. The one thing that Caroline needs is repression, the curb; she is too intense.
I am inclined to think, however, that she has had her day, even as an attendant on royalty, for a new variety, claiming the high-sounding title of Golden Queen, has mysteriously appeared. I say mysteriously, for it is difficult to account for her origin. Mr. Ezra Stokes, a fruit-grower of New Jersey, had a field of twelve acres planted with Cuthbert raspberries. In this field he found a bush producing white berries. In brief, he found an Albino of the Cuthbert. Of the causes of her existence he knows nothing. All we can say, I suppose, is that the variation was produced by some unknown impulse of Nature. Deriving her claims from such a source, she certainly has a better title to royalty than most of her sister queens, who, according to history, have been commonplace women, suggesting anything but nature. With the exception of the Philadelphians, perhaps, we as a people will not stand on the question of ancestry, and shall be more inclined to see how she "queens it."
Of course the enthusiastic discoverer and disseminators of this variety claim that it is not only like the Cuthbert, but far better. Let us try it and see; if it is as good, we may well be content, and can grace our tables with beautiful fruit.
There is another American species of raspberry (Rubus occidentalis) that is almost as dear to memory as the wild strawberry—the thimble-berry, or black-cap. I confess that the wild flavor of this fruit is more to my taste than that of any other raspberry. Apparently its seeds have been sown broadcast over the continent, for it is found almost everywhere, and there have been few children in America whose lips have not been stained by the dark purple juice of its fruit. Seeds dropped in neglected pastures, by fence and roadsides, and along the edges of the forest, produce new varieties which do not propagate themselves by suckers like red raspberries, but in a manner quite distinct. The young purple canes bend over and take root in the soil during August, September, and October. At the extreme end of the tip from which the roots descend a bud is formed, which remains dormant until the following spring. Therefore the young plant we set out is a more or less thick mass of roots, a green bud, and usually a bit of the old parent cane, which is of no further service except as a handle and a mark indicating the location of the plant. After the ground has been prepared as one would for corn or potatoes, it should be levelled, a line stretched for the row, and the plants set four feet apart in the row. Sink the roots as straight down as possible, and let the bud point upward, covering it lightly with merely one or two inches of soil. Press the ground firmly against the roots, but not on the bud. The soil just over this should be fine and mellow, so that the young shoot can push through easily, which it will soon do if the plants are in good condition. Except in the extreme South, spring is by far the best time for planting, and it should be done early, while the buds are dormant. After these begin to grow, keep the ground mellow and free from weeds. The first effort of the young plant will be to propagate itself. It will sprawl over the ground if left to its wild impulses, and will not make an upright bearing bush. On this account put a stake down by the young sprout, and as it grows keep it tied up and away from the ground. When the side-branches are eight or ten inches long, pinch them back, thus throwing the chief strength into the central cane. By keeping all the branches pinched back you form the plant into an erect, sturdy bush that will load itself with berries the following year. No fruit will be borne the first season. The young canes of the second year will incline to be more sturdy and erect in their growth; but this tendency can be greatly enhanced by clipping the long slender branches which are thrown out on every side. As soon as the old canes are through bearing, they should be cut out and burned or composted with other refuse from the garden. Black-caps may be planted on any soil that is not too dry. When the plant suffers from drought, the fruit consists of little else than seeds. To escape this defect I prefer to put the black-caps in a moist location; and it is one of the few fruits that will thrive in a cold, wet soil. One can set out plants here and there in out-of-the-way corners, and they often do better than those in the garden. Indeed, unless a place is kept up very neatly, many such bushes will be found growing wild, and producing excellent fruit.
The question may arise in some minds, Why buy plants? Why not get them from the woods and fields, or let Nature provide bushes for us where she will? When Nature produces a bush on my place where it is not in the way, I let it grow, and pick the fruit in my rambles; but the supply would be precarious indeed for a family. By all means get plants from the woods if you have marked a bush that produces unusually fine fruit. It is by just this course that the finest varieties have been obtained. If you go a-berrying, you may light on something finer than has yet been discovered; but it is not very probable. Meanwhile, for a dollar you can get all the plants you want of the two or three best varieties that have yet been discovered, from Maine to California. After testing a great many kinds, I should recommend the Souhegan for early, and the Mammoth Cluster and Gregg for late. A clean, mellow soil in good condition, frequent pinchings back of the canes in summer, or a rigorous use of the pruning-shears in spring, are all that is required to secure an abundant crop from year to year. This species may also be grown among trees. I advise that every kind and description of raspberries be kept tied to stakes or a wire trellis. The wood ripens better, the fruit is cleaner and richer from exposure to air and sunshine, and the garden is far neater than if the canes are sprawling at will. I know that all horticulturists advise that the plants be pinched back so thoroughly as to form self-supporting bushes; but I have yet to see the careful fruit-grower who did this, or the bushes that some thunder-gusts would not prostrate into the mud with all their precious burden, were they not well supported. Why take the risk to save a two-penny stake?
If, just before the fruit begins to ripen, a mulch of leaves, cut grass, or any litter that will cover the ground slightly, is placed under and around the bushes, it may save a great deal of fruit from being spoiled. The raspberry season is also the hour and opportunity for thunder-showers, whose great slanting drops often splash the soil to surprising distances. Sugar-and-cream-coated, not mud-coated, berries, if you please.
In my remarks on raspberries I have not named many varieties, and have rather laid stress on the principles which may guide the reader in his present and future selections of kinds. Sufficient in number and variety to meet the NEEDS of every family have been mentioned. The amateur may gratify his taste by testing other sorts described in nurserymen's catalogues. Moreover, every year or two some new variety will be heralded throughout the land. The reader has merely to keep in mind the three classes of raspberries described and their characteristics, in order to make an intelligent choice from old and new candidates for favor.
It should also be remembered that the raspberry is a Northern fruit. I am often asked in effect, What raspberries do you recommend for the Gulf States? I suppose my best reply would be, What oranges do you think best adapted to New York? Most of the foreign kinds falter and fail in New Jersey and Southern Pennsylvania; the Cuthbert and its class can be grown much further south, while the Turner and the black-caps thrive almost to Florida.
Raspberries, especially those of our native species, are comparatively free from disease. Foreign varieties and their hybrids are sometimes afflicted with the curl-leaf. The foliage crimps up, the canes are dwarfed, and the whole plant has a sickly and often yellow appearance. The only remedy is to dig up the plant, root and branch, and burn it.
A disease termed the "rust" not infrequently attacks old and poorly nourished black-cap bushes. The leaves take on an ochreous color, and the plant is seen to be failing. Extirpate it as directed above. If many bushes are affected, I advise that the whole patch be rooted up, and healthy plants set out elsewhere.
It is a well-known law of Nature that plants of nearly all kinds appear to exhaust from the soil in time the ingredients peculiarly acceptable to them. Skill can do much toward maintaining the needful supply; but the best and easiest plan is not to grow any of the small fruits too long in any one locality. By setting out new plants on different ground, far better results are attained with much less trouble.
Who that has ever lived in the country does not remember the old straggling currant-bushes that disputed their existence with grass, docks, and other coarse-growing weeds along some ancient fence? Many also can recall the weary task of gathering a quart or two of the diminutive fruit for pies, and the endless picking required to obtain enough for the annual jelly-making. Nor is this condition of affairs a thing of the past. Drive through the land where you will in early July, and you will see farmers mowing round the venerable Red Dutch currants "to give the women-folks a chance at 'em." The average farmer still bestows upon this fruit about as much attention as the aborigines gave to their patches of maize. This seems very absurd when we remember the important place held in the domestic economy by the currant, and how greatly it improves under decent treatment. If it demanded the attention which a cabbage-plant requires, it would be given; but the currant belongs to that small class of creatures which permit themselves to be used when wanted, and snubbed, neglected, and imposed upon at other times. It is known that the bushes will manage to exist, and do the Very best they can, no matter how badly treated; and average human nature has ever taken advantage of such traits, to its continuous loss.
The patience of the currant is due perhaps to its origin, for it grows wild round the northern hemisphere, its chief haunts being the dim, cold, damp woods of the high latitudes. You may tame, modify, and vastly change anything possessing life; but original traits are scarcely ever wholly eradicated. Therefore the natural habitat and primal qualities of the currant indicate the true lines of development, its capabilities and limitations. It is essentially a northern fruit, requiring coolness, moisture, and alluvial soils. It begins to falter and look homesick even in New Jersey; and one has not to go far down the Atlantic coast to pass beyond the range of its successful culture. I do not see why it should not thrive much further south on the northern slopes of the mountains. From Philadelphia northward, however, except on light dry soils and in sunny exposures, there is no reason why it should not give ample returns for the attention it requires.
I shall not lay stress on the old, well-known uses to which this fruit is put, but I do think its value is but half appreciated. People rush round in July in search of health: let me recommend the currant cure. If any one is languid, depressed in spirits, inclined to headaches, and generally "out of sorts," let him finish his breakfast daily for a month with a dish of freshly picked currants. He will soon, almost doubt his own identity, and may even begin to think that he is becoming a good man. He will be more gallant to his wife, kinder to his children, friendlier to his neighbors, and more open-handed to every good cause. Work will soon seem play, and play fun. In brief, the truth of the ancient pun will be verified, that "the power to live a good life depends largely upon the LIVER." Out upon the nonsense of taking medicine and nostrums during the currant-season! Let it be taught at theological seminaries that the currant is a "means of grace." It is a corrective; and that is what average humanity most needs.
The currant, like the raspberry, is willing to keep shady; but only because it is modest. It is one of the fruits that thrive better among trees than in too dry and sunny exposures. Therefore, in economizing space on the Home Acre it may be grown among smaller trees, or, better still, on the northern or eastern side of a wall or hedge. But shade is not essential, except as we go south; then the requisites of moisture and shelter from the burning rays of the sun should be complied with as far as possible. In giving this and kindred fruits partial shade, they should not be compelled to contend to any extent with the roots of trees. This will ever prove an unequal contest. No fruit can thrive in dense shade, or find sustenance among the voracious roots of a tree.
Select, therefore, if possible, heavy, deep, moist, yet well-drained soil, and do not fear to make and keep it very rich. If you are restricted to sandy or gravelly soils, correct their defects with compost, decayed leaves and sods, muck, manure from the cow-stable, and other fertilizers with staying rather than stimulating qualities. Either by plowing or forking, deepen as well as enrich the soil. It is then ready for the plants, which may be set out either in the fall or in early spring. I prefer the autumn—any time after the leaves have fallen; but spring answers almost as well, while buds are dormant, or partially so. It should be remembered that the currant starts very early, and is in full foliage before some persons are fairly wakened to garden interests. It would, in this case, be better to wait until October, unless the plants can be obtained from a neighbor on a cloudy day; then they should be cut back two-thirds of their length before being removed, and the transfer made as quickly as possible. Under any circumstances, take off half of the wood from the plants bought. This need not be thrown away. Every cutting of young wood six inches long will make a new plant in a single season. All that is needful is to keep the wood moist until ready to put it in the ground, or, better still, a cool, damp place in the garden can be selected at once, and the cuttings sunk two-thirds of their length into the ground, and the soil pressed firm around them. By fall they will have a good supply of roots, and by the following autumn be ready to be set out wherever you wish them to fruit.
Currant-bushes may be planted five feet apart each way, and at the same distance, if they are to line a fence. They should be sunk a few inches deeper in the soil than they stood before, and the locality be such as to admit of good culture. The soil should never be permitted to become hard, weedy, or grass-grown. As a rule, I prefer two-year-old plants, while those of one year's growth answer nearly as well, if vigorous. If in haste for fruit, it may be well to get three-year-old plants, unless they have been dwarfed and enfeebled by neglect. Subsequent culture consists chiefly in keeping the soil clean, mellow, rich, and therefore moist. I have named the best fertilizers for the currant; but if the product of the horse-stable is employed, use it first as a mulch. It will thus gradually reach the roots. Otherwise it is too stimulating, and produces a rampant growth of wood rather than fruit.
Under any circumstances this tendency to produce an undue amount of wood must be repressed almost as rigorously as in the grape-vine. The secret of successful currant-culture is richness beneath, and restriction above. English gardeners are said to have as complete and minute systems of pruning and training currants as the grape; but we do not seem to have patience for such detail. Nor do I regard it as necessary. Our object is an abundant supply of excellent fruit; and this result can be obtained at a surprisingly small outlay of time and money, if they are expended judiciously.
The art of trimming a currant-bush, like that of pruning a grape-vine, is best learned by observation and experience. One can give principles rather than lay down rules. Like the vine, the currant tends to choke itself with a superabundance of wood, which soon becomes more or less barren. This is truer of some varieties than of others; but in all instances the judicious use of the pruning-knife doubles the yield. In view of the supposition that the leading shoot and all the branches were shortened in one-half when the plant was set out, I will suggest that early in June it will be observed that much more wood is forming than can be permitted to remain. There are weak, crowding shoots which never can be of any use. If these are cut out at this time, the sap which would go to mature them will be directed into the valuable parts of the forming bush. Summer pruning prevents misspent force, and it may be kept up with great advantage from year to year. This is rarely done, however; therefore early in spring the bushes must receive a good annual pruning, and the long shoots and branches be cut well back, so as to prevent naked reaches of wood. Observe a very productive bush, and you will see that there are many points abounding in little side-branches. It is upon these that the fruit is chiefly borne. A bush left to itself is soon a mass of long, slender, almost naked stalks, with a little fruit at the ends. The ideal bush is stocky, open, well branched, admitting light, air, and sun in every part. There is no crowding and smothering of the fruit by the foliage. But few clusters are borne on very young wood, and when this grows old and black, the clusters are small. Therefore new wood should always be coming on and kept well cut back, so as to form joints and side-branches; and as other parts grow old and feeble they should be cut out. Observation and experience will teach the gardener more than all the rules that could be written, for he will perceive that he must prune each bush according to its own individuality.
For practical purposes the bush form is the best in which to grow currants; but they can easily be made to form pretty little trees with tops shaped like an umbrella, or any other form we desire. For instance, I found, one autumn, a shoot about three feet long. I rubbed off all the buds except the terminal one and three or four just beneath it, then sunk the lower end of the shoot six inches into the soil, and tied the part above the ground to a short stake. The following spring the lower end took root, and the few buds at the top developed into a small bushy head. Clumps of miniature currant-trees would make as pretty an ornament for the garden border as one would wish to see. It should be remembered that there is a currant as well as an apple borer; but the pests are not very numerous or destructive, and such little trees may easily be grown by the hundred.
Clean culture has one disadvantage which must be guarded against. If the ground under bushes is loose, heavy rains will sometimes so splash up the soil as to muddy the greater part of the fruit. I once suffered serious loss in this way, and deserved it; for a little grass mown from the lawn, or any other litter spread under and around the bushes just before the fruit ripened, would have prevented it. It will require but a very few minutes to insure a clean crop.
I imagine that if these pages are ever read, and such advice as I can give is followed, it will be more often by the mistress than the master of the Home Acre. I address him, but quite as often I mean her; and just at this point I am able to give "the power behind the throne" a useful hint. Miss Alcott, in her immortal "Little Women," has given an instance of what dire results may follow if the "jelly won't jell." Let me hasten to insure domestic peace by telling my fair reader (who will also be, if the jelly turns out of the tumblers tremulous yet firm, a gentle reader) that if she will have the currants picked just as soon as they are fully ripe, and before they have been drenched by a heavy rain, she will find that the jelly will "jell." It is overripe, water-soaked currants that break up families and demolish household gods. Let me also add another fact, as true as it is strange, that white currants make red jelly; therefore give the pearly fruit ample space in the garden.
In passing to the consideration of varieties, it is quite natural in this connection to mention the white sorts first. I know that people are not yet sufficiently educated to demand white currants of their grocers; but the home garden is as much beyond the grocer's stall as the home is better than a boarding-house. There is no reason why free people in the country should be slaves to conventionalities, prejudices, and traditions. If white currants ARE sweeter, more delicious and beautiful than the red, why, so they are. Therefore let us plant them abundantly.
If there is to be a queen among the currants, the White Grape is entitled to the crown. When placed upon the table, the dish appears heaped with translucent pearls. The sharp acid of the red varieties is absent, and you feel that if you could live upon them for a time, your blood would grow pure, if not "blue."
The bush producing this exquisite fruit is like an uncouth-looking poet who gives beauty from an inner life, but disappoints in externals. It is low-branching and unshapely, and must be forced into good form—the bush, not the poet—by the pruning-knife. If this is done judiciously, no other variety will bear more profusely or present a fairer object on a July day.
The White Dutch has the well-known characteristics in growth of the common Red Dutch currant, and is inferior only to the White Grape in size. The fruit is equally transparent, beautiful, mild, and agreeable in flavor, while the bush is enormously productive, and shapely in form, if properly trained and fertilized.
While the white currants are such favorites, I do not undervalue the red. Indeed, were I restricted to one variety, it should be the old Dutch Red of our fathers, or, more properly, of our grandmothers. For general house uses I do not think it has yet been surpassed. It is not so mild in flavor as the white varieties, but there is a richness and sprightliness in its acid that are grateful indeed on a sultry day. Mingled with the white berries, it makes a beautiful dish, while it has all the culinary qualities which the housekeeper can desire. If the bush is rigorously pruned and generously enriched, it is unsurpassed in productiveness, and the fruit approaches very nearly to the Cherry currant in size.
I do not recommend the last-named kind for the home garden, unless large, showy fruit counts for more than flavor. The acid of the Cherry currant, unless very ripe, is harsh and watery. At best it never acquires an agreeable mildness, to my taste. The bushes also are not so certainly productive, and usually require skilful pruning and constant fertilizing to be profitable. For the market, which demands size above all things, the Cherry is the kind to grow; but in the home garden flavor and productiveness are the more important qualities. Fay's Prolific is a new sort that has been very highly praised.
The Victoria is an excellent late variety, which, if planted in a sheltered place, prolongs the currant-season well into the autumn. Spurious kinds are sold under this name. The true Victoria produces a pale-red fruit with tapering clusters or racemes of berries. This variety, with the three others recommended, gives the family two red and two white kinds—all that are needed. Those who are fond of black currants can, at almost any nursery, procure the Black Naples and Lee's Prolific. Either variety will answer all practical purposes. I confess they are not at all to my taste.
From the currant we pass on naturally to the gooseberry, for in origin and requirements it is very similar. Both belong to the Ribes family of plants, and they are to be cultivated on the same general principles. What I have written in regard to partial shade, cool, sheltered localities, rich, heavy soils, good culture, and especially rigorous pruning, applies with even greater force to this fruit, especially if we endeavor to raise the foreign varieties, in cultivating this fruit it is even more important than was true of raspberries that the reader should distinguish between the native and foreign species. The latter are so inclined to mildew in almost every locality that there is rarely any certainty of satisfactory fruit. The same evil pursues the seedling children of the foreign sorts, and I have never seen a hybrid or cross between the English and native species that was with any certainty free from a brown disfiguring rust wholly or partially enveloping the berries. Here and there the fruit in some gardens will escape year after year; again, on places not far away, the blighting mildew is sure to appear before the berries are fully grown. Nevertheless, the foreign varieties are so fine that it is well to give them a fair trial. The three kinds which appear best adapted to our climate are Crown Bob, Roaring Lion, and Whitesmith. A new large variety, named Industry, is now being introduced, and if half of what is claimed for it is true, it is worth a place in all gardens.
In order to be certain of clean, fair gooseberries every year, we must turn to our native species, which has already given us several good varieties. The Downing is the largest and best, and the Houghton the hardiest, most productive and easily raised. When we remember the superb fruit which English gardeners have developed from wild kinds inferior to ours, we can well understand that the true American gooseberries are yet to be developed. In my work "Success with Small Fruits" those who are interested in this fruit will find much fuller treatment than is warranted in the present essay.
Not only do currants and gooseberries require similar treatment and cultivation, but they also have a common enemy that must be vigilantly guarded against, or the bushes will be defoliated in many localities almost before its existence is known. After an absence of a few days I have found some of my bushes stripped of every leaf. When this happens, the fruit is comparatively worthless. Foliage is as necessary to a plant as are lungs to a man. It is not essential that I should go into the natural history of the currant worm and moth. Having once seen the yellowish-green caterpillars at their destructive work, the reader's thoughts will not revert to the science of entomology, but will at once become bloody and implacable. I hasten to suggest the means of rescue and vengeance. The moment these worms appear, be on your guard, for they usually spread like fire in stubble. Procure of your druggist white hellebore, scald and mix a tablespoonful in a bowl of hot water, and then pour it in a full watering-can. This gives you an infusion of about a tablespoonful to an ordinary pail of water at its ordinary summer temperature. Sprinkle the infected bushes with this as often as there is a worm to be seen. I have never failed in destroying the pests by this course. It should be remembered, however, that new eggs are often hatched out daily. You may kill every worm to-day, yet find plenty on the morrow. Vigilance, however, will soon so check the evil that your currants are safe; and if every one would fight the pests, they would eventually be almost exterminated. The trouble is that, while you do your duty, your next-door neighbor may grow nothing on his bushes but currant-worms. Thus the evil is continued, and even increased, in spite of all that you can do; but by a little vigilance and the use of hellebore you can always save YOUR currants. I have kept my bushes green, luxuriant, and loaded with fruit when, at a short distance, the patches of careless neighbors were rendered utterly worthless. Our laws but half protect the birds, the best insecticides, and there is no law to prevent a man from allowing his acres to be the breeding-place of every pest prevailing.
There are three species of the currant-borer, and their presence is indicated by yellow foliage and shrivelling fruit. The only remedy is to cut out and burn the affected stems. These pests are not often sufficiently numerous to do much harm.
I earnestly urge that virulent poisons like Paris green, London purple, etc., never be used on fruit or edible vegetables. There cannot be safety in this course. I never heard of any one that was injured by white hellebore, used as I have directed; and I have found that if the worms were kept off until the fruit began to ripen, the danger was practically over. If I had to use hellebore after the fruit was fit to use, I should first kill the worms, and then cleanse the bushes thoroughly by spraying them with clean water.
In treating the two remaining small fruits, blackberries and strawberries, we pass wholly out of the shade and away from trees. Sunshine and open ground are now required. Another important difference can also be mentioned, reversing former experience. America is the home of these fruits. The wild species of the blackberry abroad has never, as far as I can learn, been developed into varieties worthy of cultivation; and before importations from North and South America began, the only strawberry of Europe was the Alpine, with its slight variations, and the musky Hautbois.
I do not know whether any of our fine varieties of blackberries are cultivated abroad, but I am perfectly certain that they are worthy of the slight attention required to raise them in perfection here.
Like the blackcaps, all our best varieties are the spontaneous products of Nature, first discovered growing wild, and transferred to the garden. The blackberry is a fruit that takes kindly to cultivation, and improves under it.
The proper treatment is management rather than cultivation and stimulation. It requires a sunny exposure and a light, warm soil, yet not so dry as to prevent the fruit from maturing into juicy berries. If possible, set the blackberries off by themselves, for it is hard to prevent the strong roots from travelling all over the garden. The blackberry likes a rich, moist, mellow soil, and, finding it, some varieties will give you canes sixteen feet high. You do not want rank, thorny brambles, however, but berries. Therefore the blackberry should be put where it can do no harm, and, by a little judicious repression, a great deal of good. A gravelly or sandy knoll, with a chance to mow all round the patch, is the best place. The blackberry needs a deep, loose soil rather than a rich one. Then the roots will luxuriate to unknown depths, the wood ripen thoroughly, and the fruit be correspondingly abundant.
Let the rows be six feet apart; set out the plants in the fall, if possible, or EARLY spring; put two plants in the hills, which may be four feet apart. If the ground is very poor, give the young plants a shovelful of old compost, decayed leaves, etc. Any fertilizer will answer, so that it is spread just over the roots to give the plants a good send-off.
As a rule, complete success in blackberry culture consists in a little judicious work performed in May, June, and July. The plants, having been set out as I have advised in the case of raspberries, throw up the first season strong green shoots. When these shoots are three feet high, pinch off the top, so as to stop upward growth. The result of this is that branches start on every side, and the plant forms a low, stocky, self-supporting bush, which will be loaded with fruit the following season.
The second year the plants in the hill will send up stronger canes, and there will be plenty of sprouts or suckers in the intervening spaces. When very young, these useless sprouts can be pulled out with the least possible trouble. Left to mature, they make a thorny wilderness which will cause bleeding hands and faces when attacked, and add largely to the family mending. That which a child could do as play when the suckers were just coming through the ground, is now a formidable task for any man. In early summer you can with the utmost ease keep every useless blackberry sprout from growing. More canes, also, will usually start from the hill than are needed. Leave but three strong shoots, and this year pinch them back as soon as they are four feet high, thus producing three stocky, well-branched bushes, which in sheltered places will be self-supporting. Should there be the slightest danger of their breaking down with their load of fruit, tie them to stakes by all means. I do not believe in that kind of economy which tries to save a penny at the risk of a dollar.
I believe that better and larger fruit is always secured by shortening in the side branches one-third of their length in spring. Fine varieties like the Kittatinny are not entirely hardy in all localities. The snow will protect the lower branches, and the upper ones can usually be kept uninjured by throwing over them some very light litter, like old pea or bean vines, etc.—nothing heavy enough to break them down. As soon as the old canes are through bearing, they should be cut out. If the blackberry patch has been left to its own wild will, there is nothing left for us but to attack it, well-gloved, in April, with the pruning-shears, and cut out everything except three or four young canes in the hill. These will probably be tall, slender, and branchless, therefore comparatively unproductive. In order to have any fruit at all, we must shorten them one-third, and tie them to stakes. It thus may be clearly seen that with blackberries "a stitch in time" saves almost ninety-nine. Keep out coarse weeds and grass, and give fertilizers only when the plants show signs of feebleness and lack of nutrition.
A rust similar to that which attacks the black-cap is almost the only disease we have to contend with. The remedy is the same—extirpation of the plant, root and branch.
After testing a great many kinds, I recommend the three following varieties, ripening in succession for the family—the Early Harvest, Snyder, and Kittatinny. These all produce rich, high-flavored berries, and, under the treatment suggested, will prove hardy in nearly all localities. This fruit is not ripe as soon as it is black, and it is rarely left on the bushes until the hard core in the centre is mellowed by complete maturity. I have found that berries picked in the evening and stood in a cool place were in excellent condition for breakfast. To have them in perfection, however, they must be so ripe as to drop into the basket at the slightest touch; then, as Donald Mitchell says, they are "bloated bubbles of forest honey."
I fancy the reader is as impatient to reach the strawberry as I am myself. "Doubtless God could have made a better berry"—but I forbear. This saying has been quoted by the greater part of the human race, and attributed to nearly every prominent man, from Adam to Mr. Beecher. There are said to be unfortunates whom the strawberry poisons. The majority of us feel as if we could attain Methuselah's age if we had nothing worse to contend with. Praising the strawberry is like "painting the lily;" therefore let us give our attention at once to the essential details of its successful culture.
As we have intimated before, this fruit as we find it in our gardens, even though we raise foreign kinds, came originally from America. The two great species, Fragaria chilensis, found on the Pacific slope from Oregon to Chili, and Fragaria virginiana, growing wild in all parts of North America east of the Rocky Mountains, are the sources of all the fine varieties that have been named and cultivated. The Alpine strawberry (Fragaria vesca), which grows wild throughout the northern hemisphere, does not appear capable of much variation and development under cultivation. Its seeds, sown under all possible conditions, reproduce the parent plant. Foreign gardeners eventually learned, however, that seeds of the Chili and Virginia strawberry produced new varieties which were often much better than their parents. As time passed, and more attention was drawn to this subject, superb varieties were originated abroad, many of them acquiring a wide celebrity. In this case, as has been true of nearly all other fruits, our nursery-men and fruit-growers first looked to Europe for improved varieties. Horticulturists were slow to learn that in our own native species were the possibilities of the best success. The Chili strawberry, brought directly from the Pacific coast to the East, is not at home in our climate, and is still more unfitted to contend with it after generations of culture in Europe. Even our hardier Virginia strawberry, coming back to us from England after many years of high stimulation in a moist, mild climate, is unequal to the harsher conditions of life here. They are like native Americans who have lived and been pampered abroad so long that they find this country "quite too rude, you know—beastly climate." Therefore, in the choice varieties, and in developing new ones, the nearer we can keep to vigorous strains of our own hardy Virginia species the better. From it have proceeded and will continue to come the finest kinds that can be grown east of the Rockies. Nevertheless, what was said of foreign raspberries is almost equally true of European strawberries like the Triomphe de Gand and Jucunda, and hybrids like the Wilder. In localities where they can be grown, their beauty and fine flavor repay for the high culture and careful winter protection required. But they can scarcely be made to thrive on light soils or very far to the south.
So many varieties are offered for sale that the question of choice is a bewildering one. I have therefore sought to meet it, as before, by giving the advice of those whose opinions are well entitled to respect.
Dr. Hexamer, who has had great and varied experience, writes as follows: "A neighbor of mine who has for years bought nearly every new strawberry when first introduced, has settled on the Duchess and Cumberland as the only varieties he will grow in the future, and thinks it not worth while to seek for something better. Confined to two varieties, a more satisfactory selection could scarcely be made. But you want six or seven, either being, I think, about the right number for the home garden. I will give them in the order of desirability according to my judgment—Cumberland, Charles Downing, Duchess, Mount Vernon, Warren, Sharpless, Jewell."
The selection which places the Cumberland Triumph at the head of the list is but another proof how kinds differ under varied conditions. On my place this highly praised sort is but moderately productive and not high-flavored, although the fruit is very large and handsome. I regard the list, however, as a most excellent one for most localities.
The Hon. Marshall P. Wilder's choice for the latitude of Massachusetts:"Charles Downing, Wilder, Hervey Davis, Sharpless, Cumberland,Kentucky. Jewell is very promising." A. S. Fuller, for latitude of NewYork: "Charles Downing, Sharpless, Miner's Prolific, Wilson's Albany,Champion." P. C. Berckmans, for the latitude of Georgia: "Wilson,Sharpless, Charles Downing, Triomphe de Gand, Glendale." The Hon.Norman J. Colman's choice for Missouri and the West: "Crescent, CaptainJack, Cumberland, Champion, Hart's Minnesota, Cornelia."
If I gave a hundred other lists, no two of them probably would agree in all respects. Mr. Downing often said to me, "Soil, climate, and locality make greater differences with the strawberry than with any other fruit." This is far more true of some varieties than others. I believe that the excellent kind named after Mr. Downing, if given proper treatment, will do well almost anywhere on the continent. It will be noted that it is on all the lists except one. I should place it at the head of garden strawberries. It is a kind that will endure much neglect, and it responds splendidly to generous, sensible treatment. Its delicious flavor is its chief recommendation, as it should be that of every berry for the home garden.
I have tested many hundreds of kinds, and have grown scores and scores that were so praised when first sent out that the novice might be tempted to dig up and throw away everything except the wonderful novelty pressed upon his attention. There is one quiet, effective way of meeting all this heralding and laudation, and that is to make trial beds. For instance, I have put out as many as seventy kinds at nearly the same time, and grown them under precisely the same conditions. Some of the much-vaunted new-comers were found to be old varieties re-named; others, although sold at high prices and asserted to be prodigies, were seen to be comparatively worthless when growing by the side of good old standard sorts; the majority never rose above mediocrity under ordinary treatment; but now and then one, like the Sharpless, fulfilled the promises made for it.
In my next chapter I shall venture to recommend those varieties which my own experience and observation have shown to be best adapted to various soils and localities, and shall also seek to prove that proper cultivation has more to do with success than even the selection of favored kinds.
Nor would I seek to dissuade the proprietor of the Home Acre from testing the many novelties offered. He will be sure to get a fair return in strawberries, and to his interest in his garden will add the pleasure and anticipation which accompany uncertain experiment. In brief, he has found an innocent form of gambling, which will injure neither pocket nor morals. In slow-maturing fruits we cannot afford to make mistakes; in strawberries, one prize out of a dozen blanks repays for everything.
There is a very general impression that light, dry, sandy soils are the best for the strawberry. Just the reverse of this is true. In its desire for moisture it is almost an aquatic plant. Experienced horticulturists have learned to recognize this truth, which the Hon. Marshall P. Wilder has suggested in the following piquant manner: "In the first place, the strawberry's chief need is a great deal of water. In the second place, it needs more water. In the third place, I think I should give it a great deal more water."
While emphasizing this truth the reader should at the same time be warned against land whereon water stands above the surface in winter and spring, or stagnates beneath the surface at any time. Moisture is essential to the best results; good drainage is equally so. The marvellous crops of strawberries raised in California under well-directed systems of irrigation should teach us useful lessons. The plants, instead of producing a partially developed crop within a few brief days, continue in bearing through weeks and months. It may often be possible to supply abundantly on the Home Acre this vital requirement of moisture, and I shall refer to this point further on.
My first advice in regard to strawberries is to set them out immediately almost anywhere except upon land so recently in grass that the sod is still undecayed. This course is better than not to have the fruit at all, or to wait for it A year without strawberries is a lost year in one serious respect. While there is a wide difference between what plants can do under unfavorable conditions and what they can be made to do when their needs are fully met, they will probably in any event yield a fair supply of delicious fruit. Secure this as soon as possible. At the same time remember that a plant of a good variety is a genius capable of wonderful development. In ordinary circumstances it is like the "mute, inglorious" poets whose enforced limitations were lamented by the poet Gray; but when its innate powers and gifts are fully nourished it expands into surprising proportions, sends up hundreds of flowers, which are followed by ruby gems of fruit whose exquisite flavor is only surpassed by its beauty. No such concentrated ambrosia ever graced the feasts of the Olympian gods, for they were restricted to the humble Fragaria vesca, or Alpine species. In discovering the New World, Columbus also discovered the true strawberry, and died without the knowledge of this result of his achievement.
I can imagine the expression on the faces of those who buy the "sour, crude, half-ripe Wilsons," against which the poet Bryant inveighed so justly. The market is flooded with this fruit because it bears transportation about as well as would marbles. Yes, they are strawberries; choke-pears and Seckels belong to the same species. There is truth enough in my exaggeration to warrant the assertion that if we would enjoy the possible strawberry, we must raise it ourselves, and pick it when fully matured—ready for the table, and not for market. Then any man's garden can furnish something better than was found in Eden.
Having started a strawberry-patch without loss of time wherever it is handiest, we can now give our attention to the formation of an ideal bed. In this instance we must shun the shade of trees above, and their roots beneath. The land should be open to the sky, and the sun free to practice his alchemy on the fruit the greater part of the day. The most favorable soil is a sandy loam, verging toward clay; and it should have been under cultivation sufficiently long to destroy all roots of grass and perennial weeds. Put on the fertilizer with a free hand. If it is barnyard manure, the rate of sixty tons to the acre is not in excess. A strawberry plant has a large appetite and excellent digestion. It prefers decidedly manure from the cow-stable, though that from the horse-stable answers very well; but it is not advisable to incorporate it with the soil in its raw, unfermented state, and then to plant immediately. The ground can scarcely be too rich for strawberries, but it may easily be overheated and stimulated. In fertilizing, ever keep in mind the two great requisites—moisture and coolness. Manure from the horse-stable, therefore, is almost doubled in value as well as bulk if composted with leaves, muck, or sods, and allowed to decay before being used.
Next to enriching the soil, the most important step is to deepen it. If a plow is used, sink it to the beam, and run it twice in a furrow. If a lifting subsoil-plow can follow, all the better. Strawberry roots have been traced two feet below the surface.
If the situation of the plot does not admit the use of a plow, let the gardener begin at one side and trench the area to at least the depth of eighteen inches, taking pains to mix the surface, subsoil, and fertilizer evenly and thoroughly. A small plot thus treated will yield as much as one three or four times as large. One of the chief advantages of thus deepening the soil is that the plants are insured against their worst enemy—drought. How often I have seen beds in early June languishing for moisture, the fruit trusses lying on the ground, fainting under their burden, and the berries ripening prematurely into little more than diminutive collections of seeds! When ground has been deepened as I have said, the drought must be almost unparalleled to arrest the development of the fruit. Even in the most favorable seasons, hard, shallow soils give but a brief period of strawberries, the fruit ripens all at once, and although the first berries may be of good size, the later ones dwindle until they are scarcely larger than peas. Be sure to have a deep, mellow soil beneath the plants.
Such a bed can be made in either spring or fall—indeed, at any time when the soil is free from frost, and neither too wet nor dry. I do not believe in preparing and fertilizing ground during a period of drought.
We will suppose the work has been done in the spring, as early as the earth was dry enough to crumble freely, and that the surface of the bed is smooth, mellow, and ready for the plants. Stretch a garden line down the length of the plot two feet from the outer edge, and set the plants along the line one foot apart from each other. Let the roots be spread out, not buried in a mat, the earth pressed FIRMLY against them, and the crown of the plant be exactly even with the surface of the soil, which should also be pressed closely around it with the fingers. This may seem minute detail, yet much dismal experience proves it to be essential. I have employed scores of men, and the great majority at first would either bury the crowns out of sight, or else leave part of the roots exposed, and the remainder so loose in the soil that a sharp gale would blow the plants away. There is no one so economical of time as the hired man whose time is paid for. He is ever bent on saving a minute or half-minute in this kind of work. On one occasion I had to reset a good part of an acre on which my men had saved time in planting. If I had asked them to save the plants in the year of '86, they might have "struck."
The first row having been set out, I advise that the line be moved forward three feet. This would make the rows three feet apart—not too far in ground prepared as described, and in view of the subsequent method of cultivation. The bed may therefore be filled up in this ratio, the plants one foot apart in the row, and the rows three feet apart. The next point in my system, for the kind of soil named (for light, sandy soils another plan will be indicated), is to regard each plant as an individual that is to be developed to the utmost. Of course only young plants of the previous season's growth should be used. If a plant has old, woody, black roots, throw it away. Plants set out in April will begin to blossom in May. These buds and blossoms should be picked off ruthlessly as soon as they appear. Never does avarice overreach itself more completely than when plants are permitted to bear the same season in which they are set out. The young, half-established plant is drained of its vitality in producing a little imperfect fruit; yet this is permitted even by farmers who would hold up their hands at the idea of harnessing a colt to a plow.
The plants do not know anything about our purpose in regard to them. They merely seek to follow the law of Nature to propagate themselves, first by seeds which, strictly speaking, are the fruit, and then by runners. These slender, tendril-like growths begin to appear early in summer, and if left unchecked will mat the ground about the parent with young plants by late autumn. If we wish plants, let them grow by all means; but if fruit is our object, why should we let them grow? "Because nearly every one seems to do it," would be, perhaps, the most rational answer. This is a mistake, for many are beginning to take just the opposite course even when growing strawberries by the acre.
Let us fix our attention on a single plant. It has a certain amount of root pasturage and space in which to grow. Since it is not permitted to produce an indefinite number of young plants, it begins to develop itself. The soil is rich, the roots are busy, and there must be an outlet. The original plant cannot form others, and therefore begins to produce fruit-crowns for the coming year. All the sap, all the increasing power of root and foliage, are directed to preparation for fruit. In brief, we have got the plant in traces; it is pulling in the direction we wish, it will eventually deliver a load of berries which would surprise those who trust simply to Nature unguided.
Some one may object that this is a troublesome and expensive way of growing strawberries. Do not the facts in the case prove the reverse? A plant restricted to a single root can be hoed and worked around like a hill of corn or a currant-bush. With comparatively little trouble the ground between the rows can be kept clean and mellow. Under the common system, which allows the runners to interlace and mat the ground, you soon have an almost endless amount of hand-weeding to do, and even this fails if white clover, sorrel, and certain grasses once get a start. The system I advocate forbids neglect; the runners must be clipped off as fast as they appear, and they continue to grow from June till frost; but the actual labor of the year is reduced to a minimum. A little boy or girl could keep a large bed clipped by the occasional use of a shears or knife before breakfast; and if the ground between the plants is free of runners, it can be hoed over in an hour. Considering, therefore, merely the trouble and expense, the single-plant system has the facts in its favor. But our object is not to grow strawberry plants with the least trouble, but to have strawberries of the largest and finest quality.
In addition to ease and thoroughness of cultivation, there are other important advantages. The single narrow row of plants is more easily protected against winter's frosts. Light, strawy manure from the horse-stable serves well for this purpose; but it should be light and free from heat. I have seen beds destroyed by too heavy a covering of chunky, rank manure. It is not our purpose to keep the beds and plants from freezing, but from alternately freezing and thawing. If snow fell on the bed in December and lasted till April, no other protection would be needed. Nature in this latitude has no sympathy for the careless man. During the winter of 1885, in January, and again in February and March, the ground was bare, unprotected plants were badly frozen, and in many instances lifted partly out of the ground by midday thawing and night freezing. The only safe course is to cover the rows thoroughly, but not heavily, early in December. If then light stable-manure is not at hand, leaves, old bean-vines, or any dry refuse from the garden not containing injurious seeds will answer. Do not employ asparagus-tops, which contain seed. Of course we want this vegetable, but not in the strawberry bed. Like some persons out of their proper sphere, asparagus may easily become a nuisance; and it will dispossess other growths of their rights and places as serenely as a Knight of Labor. The proper balance must be kept in the garden as well as in society; and therefore it is important to cover our plants with something that will not speedily become a usurper. Let it be a settled point, then, that the narrow rows must be covered thoroughly out of sight with some light material which will not rest with smothering weight on the plants or leave among them injurious seeds. Light stable-manure is often objected to for the reason that employing it is like sowing the ground with grass-seed. If the plants had been allowed to grow in matted beds, I would not use this material for a winter covering, unless it had been allowed to heat sufficiently to destroy the grass and clover seed contained in it. I have seen matted beds protected with stable-manure that were fit to mow by June, the plants and fruit having been over run with grass. No such result need follow if the plants are cultivated in a single line, for then the manure can be raked off in early spring—first of April in our latitude—and the ground cultivated. There is a great advantage in employing light manure if the system I advocate is followed, for the melting snows and rains carry the richness of the fertilizer to the roots, and winter protection serves a double purpose.