“Well, now that you’re here, Mr. Jones, I’m going to make the most of you. How about those other raspberries off to the southeast of the house?”
“Those are red ones. Let’s take a look at ’em.”
Having reached the patch, we found almost as bad a tangle as in the blackcap patch, except that the canes were more upright in their growth and less full of spines or briers.
“It’s plain enough,” continued Mr. Jones, “that old man Jamison was too poorly to take much care of things last year. You see, these red raspberries grow different from those black ones yonder. Those increase by the tips of the branches takin’ root; these by suckers. All these young shoots comin’ up between the rows are suckers, and they ought to be dug out. As I said before, you can set them out somewhere else if you want to. Dig ’em up, you know; make a trench in some out-of-the-way place, and bury the roots till you want ’em. Like enough the neighbors will buy some if they know you have ’em to spare. Only be sure to cut these long canes back to within six inches of the ground.”
“Yes,” I said, “that’s all just as I have read in the books.”
“So much the better for the books, then. I haven’t lived in this fruit-growin’ region all my life without gettin’ some ideas as to what’s what. I give my mind to farmin’; but Jamison and I were great cronies, and I used to be over here every day or two, and so it’s natural to keep comin’.”
“That’s my good luck.”
“Well, p’raps it’ll turn out so. Now Merton’s just the right age to help you in all this work. Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in a continuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong canes every eighteen inches apart in the row, and the rows five feet apart, so he could run a horse cultivator between. Are you catchin’ on, Merton?”
“Yes, sir,” said the boy, with much interest.
“Well, all these suckers and extra plants that are swampin’ the ground are just as bad as weeds. Dig ’em all out, only don’t disturb the roots of the bearin’ canes you leave in the rows much.”
“How about trimming these?” I asked.
“Well, that depends. If you want early fruit, you’ll let ’em stand as they be; if you want big berries, you’ll cut ’em back one third. Let me see. Here’s five rows of Highland Hardy; miserable poor-tastin’ kind; but they come so early that they often pay the best. Let them stand with their whole length of cane, and if you can scatter a good topdressin’ of fine manure scraped up from the barnyard, you’ll make the berries larger. Those other rows of Cuthbert, Reliance, and Turner, cut back the canes one third, and you’ll get a great deal more fruit than if you left more wood on ’em. Cuttin’ back’ll make the berries big; and so they’ll bring as much, p’raps, as if they were early.”
“Well, Merton, this all accords with what I’ve read, only Mr. Jones makes it much clearer. I think we know how to go to work now, and surely there’s plenty to do.”
“Yes, indeed,” resumed Mr. Jones; “and you’ll soon find the work crowdin’ you. Now come to the big raspberry patch back of the barn, the patch where the canes are all laid down, as I told you. These are Hudson River Antwerps. Most people have gone out of ’em, but Jamison held on, and he was makin’ money on ’em. So may you. They are what we call tender, you see, and in November they must be bent down close to the ground and covered with earth, or else every cane would be dead from frost by spring. About the first week in April, if the weather’s mild, you must uncover ’em, and tie ’em to stakes durin’ the month.”
“Now, Mr. Jones, one other good turn and we won’t bother you any more today. All the front of the house is covered by two big grapevines that have not been trimmed, and there are a great many other vines on the place. I’ve read and read on the subject, but I declare I’m afraid to touch them.”
“Now, you’re beyond my depth. I’ve got a lot of vines home, and I trim ’em in my rough way, but I know I ain’t scientific, and we have pretty poor, scraggly bunches. They taste just as good, though, and I don’t raise any to sell. There’s a clever man down near the landin’ who has a big vineyard, and he’s trimmed it as your vines ought to have been long ago. I’d advise you to go and see him, and he can show you all the latest wrinkles in prunin’. Now, I’ll tell you what I come for, in the first place. You’ll remember that I said there’d be a vandoo tomorrow. I’ve been over and looked at the stock offered. There’s a lot of chickens, as I told you; a likely-looking cow with a calf at her side; a fairish and quiet old horse that ought to go cheap, but he’d answer well the first year. Do you think you’ll get more’n one horse to start with?”
“No; you said I could hire such heavy plowing as was needed at a moderate sum, and I think we can get along with one horse for a time. My plan is to go slow, and, I hope, sure.”
“That’s the best way, only it ain’t common. I’ll be around in the mornin’ for you and such of the children as you’ll take.”
“On one condition, Mr. Jones. You must let me pay you for your time and trouble. Unless you’ll do this in giving me my start, I’ll have to paddle my own canoe, even if I sink it.”
“Oh, I’ve no grudge against an honest penny turned in any way that
