bees, to pack on the summer stands in the following manner: Take a box about 4 to 6 inches larger all around than the hive, place this over the hive with a place cut away in front so that you can put in a thin piece of board (I use common siding) for a bridge, to prevent the packing from dropping down and closing up the entrance; take good dry chaff or dry leaves from the trees and pack down all around up to the top of the hive. Lay three sticks about one-half inch square across the frames on top, lay over this a cloth fully as large again as the top of the hive and on this, pack chaff and bring the remaining cloth over the top, and if you have plenty of stores below, plenty of good dry packing all around and a good tight roof to cover all up, you can rest easy as far as the bees are concerned.

It is advisable to keep the entrance open at all times, so that the bees will have plenty of air from below, and be able to fly when it is warm enough. If, on a warm day with plenty of snow on the ground, you find many dead bees, don't worry, for they are better there than on the bottom of the hive to breed disease. We have now gone over the work of a year in the apiary and touched upon a few of the many things that will arise in the care and management of bees.

POTATO CULTURE.

BY CHAS. H. BUTLER.

[Read at the Paw Paw Institute, January 20, '85.]

Farmers differ on all points of this subject. Some say plant early, others late; some advocate planting in the moon, others in the ground; some prefer to plant large potatoes, others think small ones as good.

My theory involves three essentials-good soil, seed, and tillage.

All crops prefer a good soil. For potatoes, my ideal is a heavy sandy loam, somewhat clayey but not enough so to be hard to work in dry weather. Turn a stiff sod under, six or eight inches deep and work the surface till thoroughly mellow three or four inches deep, and then work it some more.

Mark 3 feet apart both ways. Then plant fair, smooth, average-sized, typical specimens of the variety you wish, cutting into pieces with one eye each, and putting one piece in each hill, thus avoiding a large proportion of small potatoes in the crop. Cover three inches or more deep. Now apply 20 loads of manure per acre and spread it evenly.

This brings us to the tillage, and upon it, all depends. Do not procrastinate. Work thoroughly with a horse at least once a week all summer, or until the vines prevent it by their size, and then for the sake of recreation go through them with the hoe. Potatoes and weeds do not amalgamate, and a large crop of weeds means a small crop of potatoes. So do not work potatoes by your imagination, but by horse-power and elbow grease and you will have good pota

toes.

In answer to successive inquiries, Mr. Butler added the following explanations concerning his methods:

Mr. Butler: By planting one eye to a hill I get about 3 stalks usually, but I should very much prefer to have only one in each hill. I have tried planting two or more eyes to the hill and always found, the fewer the better.

To cut potatoes one eye to the piece, I cut off and throw away the "seed

end" of the potato and then cut from the surface to the center of the potato, proceeding spirally (as the eyes or buds are always placed) to the other end. The potato is properly a thickened stem, from the center of which each bud is developed, and by this method the entire formation of the eye or bud is preserved intact. In this way I have got a bushel of potatoes from one.

It takes about half a day to cut seed enough for an acre, but as it makes two bushels plant an acre, instead of 4 bushels, which the usual method requires, the extra time required to cut is well paid for, simply by the saving in seed. I get crops of 175 to 200 bushels per acre.

I think about May 20th the best time to plant and would pay no more attention to the moon than to the direction of the wind.

By manuring after planting instead of before I keep the ground more moist, and in cultivating, work the manure to the hill where it it is needed instead of away from it. from it. Well-rotted manure is much the best. I hill my potatoes but

slightly.

One year with another, the Late Rose has been my best late potato, and the Beauty of Hebron my best early one.

I once tried a very heavy dressing of salt to prevent scab in my potatoes, and never had worse potatoes.

Mr. Whitbeck: I think the potato scab is caused by an insect. To destroy it I used slacked lime and have never been troubled with scabby potatoes since. Mr. Glidden: I have never seen any evidence that potato scab was caused by insects. It seems more of the nature of a cancer.

Prof. Johnson: It seems to be a skin disease, for removing the skin from very scabby potatoes shows them to be not very bad inside.

Mr. D. Woodman: Scabby potatoes planted on poor ground will give scabby potatoes, while similar potatoes planted on good ground will give good potatoes.

THE FARMER'S GARDEN.

PROFESSOR WILL W. TRACY, OF DETROIT.

[A talk given at the Plymouth Institute, January 12, 1885.]

Prof. Tracy prefaced his remarks by warmly recommending the reading of the Agricultural and Horticultural Reports of various States and Societies and particularly of our own State Board of Agriculture, after which he gave extempore directions for the cultivation of the different vegetables, from which remarks the following notes were taken :

Water

Tomatoes.-Fill a raisin box with light friable soil, such as is found beneath an old straw stack, and plant seeds in two shallow drills in the box. once and leave the box in the kitchen window near the stove. When the plants come up, water a second time. When two leaves show, set the boxes out doors every day that it does not freeze, watering every morning before putting ont.. If wilted when brought into the house, water again, being careful not to water too much. Thin out to 8 plants in each row. Continue this method until the corn is up in your field, and then set them out in whatever field of hoed crops you have that is nearest to the house. Whatever this may be, pull up as many hills as you may wish to have of tomato plants and set out one tomato plant in each place thus provided (or, of course, such number of hills may have been

left unplanted in the first place for this purpose). This method insures their thorough cultivation along with the crop and saves the necessity for a separate looking after the garden. Other things besides tomatoes can be planted in with a field crop in this same manner with advantage; for example-sweet corn, cabbages (putting five seeds in a hill), melons, etc., etc: Thus the garden may be made to add very little to the farmer's labors.

Rhubarb.-Procure some roots of rhubarb and set them out in a corner of the barnyard. All the care they need in order to supply a family through the season is to cut off the seed stalks occasionally.

Asparagus. Pour boiling water over the seeds before planting. Raise in boxes till large enough to set out. Give plenty of manure. Do not cut the tops in the fall till thoroughly ripe, then cover the bed with manure. In cutting be careful not to break off the shoots that are just showing at the surface. Pole Beans.-Use poles not over six feet long for all kinds. Slant them about 30° to the north and connect the tops with a string. The beans are thus given the full benefit of the sun, and with the short poles begin bearing as soon as they reach the top.

Cabbages. Plant seed in hills marked same as for corn. There is nothing gained in planting in boxes and transplanting. The Winningstadt or any flat Dutch or Drumhead cabbage is desirable for the farm garden.

Onions. For onions we use the same ground year after year, adding manure each year, as they need matured fertility. Like wheat, onions need a firm bottom-not friable soil. Do not plow deep, but cultivate the surface and do not plow in the spring.

Tomatoes, squashes and all vine plants are sub-tropical and need heat. They should have a steady uninterrupted growth from seed to maturity. After a check they may become strong plants but will never give a large crop.

Celery. Sow in raisin boxes in which the soil has been pressed down with a brick. Sow one-quarter inch apart. Cover one-quarter inch deep and press down. Then water. A good way to do this is to put a newspaper over the surface and wet it. Do not give celery too much heat after sowing, as it will prevent germination. Set out the plants four inches apart when you can sow oats. In July set them six inches apart in rows, but not necessarily in trenches. Leaves already well grown cannot well be blanched, but after transplanting new leaves come up which blanch well. Use salt largely to keep the ground moist. White Plume celery is not a good variety.

Beets.-Beets are injured more than any other plant by drying after germinating, which is the principal reason why beet seeds so often fail to grow. To prevent this, press the soil firmly over the seed to check too rapid evaporation. Cut worms devour beets almost as soon as they appear above ground, so that they are often thought not to have come up when the cut worm is the real trouble. The Bassano beet is the best for greens; or Swiss Chard, which grows rapidly and has a large leaf.

The Long Red Mangel Wurzel is the best beet for cattle feeding.

Squashes.-I believe there is no other crop which, fed to cattle, will produce a more rapid growth than squashes. If fed whole or in halves there will be no trouble from choking on the shell. The striped bug, the great enemy of young squash plants, may be destroyed by the same means as the potato beetle, but does not require so large a proportion of Paris Green mixed with the plaster.

Cut-worms may be destroyed in fields by cultivating till nothing green is

left. Then, after 24 hours, scatter green leaves over the surface. The cutworms will gather about these and may be easily collected and killed. Where

this plan can not be used, put a guard of dry paper around each plant when it is first set out; or half of a drain tile will serve the purpose of the paper still better, and at the same time shield the young plant from too much sun in the day or too much cold at night.

Mrs. Bradner: You will find cut-worms gathered together in clumps in the autumn about an inch below the surface of the ground, and they can then be easily raked out and destroyed.

THE FARM TABLE.

BY REV. G. H. WALLACE.

(Read at the Manchester Institute.)

The English farm house, traditionally at least, is embowered in roses and honeysuckles, while flowers of every variety blossom in the garden around The house may be small, its roof thatched and its rooms few, but within dwells a world of content and sturdy humanity. And then the well-to-do English farmer, so celebrated in story and picture, and in some few specimens which I have been fortunate enough to see,-what a breadth of chest, what wondrous amplitude in arm and thigh, what size of head and body, what a ponderous weight, and solid, lordly tread. Nor is he alone in these grand proportions. His kindly helpmeet, with beaming face, with plump and powerful arms, with depth and fulness of bosom-an ample cradle for the chubby, bouncing babes— with a power of lung and freedom of motion that betoken an unfettered body and perfect digestion, these are the typical couple, sire and matron, that have begotten a nation of heroes, of statesmen and soldiers, unequalled in the world. Nor is size and strength confined alone to parents. The stalwart sons, the buxom and blooming daughters, are fit representatives of that simple and systematic home life, so common in the rural districts of Great Britain.

These all look and live as if they enjoyed life; as if what they ate did them good; as if the rare roast beef and side-bursting plum puddings of old England did their duty, transferring their richness, strength, and weight to those fortunate mortals who eat them. They do not seem to be troubled much with sleeplessness, dyspepsia, and non-secretion of gastric juices. Their livers are generally in good working order, and malaria does not usually poison their systems, because it does not find them weak and debilitated enough to give it a good hold.

But how different it seems among our own farming race, average them as you will. They are thin, nervous, wiry, excitable, with livers constantly getting out of order and stomachs constantly kicking up a disturbance.

What a contrast between the two. Where lies the difference? How account for this plumpness and ruggedness on the one hand and this spareness and nervous sensibility on the other? We surely have as nutritious food as they. There is as much oxygen and ozone in the air here as there. How shall we account for it?

It seems to me as easy to do as it would be to account for the difference between a fat, sleek, fine-looking horse and a starved, raw-boned one. Both may be good horses. It is possible that the latter is the better horse, but there

has been a difference in the care and food. The owner of the one has a pride in his animals and looks carefully after their housing and the quality and quantity of food given them. The owner of the other has no such thought and care. His only desire is to get as much work out of him as possible with the least care and expense.

Now the Englishman knows he has a body, and he proposes to give it its due. His body is part of himself, and he does not intend to neglect himself by any means. So he gives thought to what he eats, and he takes plenty of time to eat it, whether "school (or farm) keeps or not." The American forgets his body as a rule, though he does not neglect it. He has so much push, energy, ambition, desire to increase and double up, that he eats anything, cooked any way, and swallows it on the run. (What a pity we have not four stomachs like a cow, so that we could eat right along, and chew our cud when we sleep, so as to save time.)

We do not forget, however, that the old country man has some other things in his favor, among which might be mentioned some peculiarities of climate,an island surrounded by the sea, different surroundings and customs, different temperament, drinks,―ales, beers, etc., having some purity and body to them. (Prohibitionist as I am, if we could get such ales here, and they would fatten us up a little, I might be tempted to make an exception in their favor.) Then there may be a difference in the character of the soil, and the amount and kind of labor necessary to be bestowed upon it. But even with all these taken into consideration, we still insist upon food habits as exercising a most pronounced influence.

In the first place, the average American eats too much, at times much more than necessary for the maintenance of his health and strength. He eats because it tastes good, and keeps eating because he is absorbed in thinking of something else, probably his farm or business. Thus he takes more than he can digest. He crowds his stomach so that it cannot work. He has piled the stove so full that he has choked the draft. Then, instead of doing as the old countryman, or as any sensible snake would do under such circumstances, taking a sleep till the processes of nature should work out a cure, he at once rushes off to work with all eagerness and strength, thus withdrawing from his stomach the energies needed for digestion.

Second, There is apt to be too little change in our articles of diet from season to season. With some it is pork, pickles and cabbage 12 months in the year, and cabbage, pickles and pork the balance of the season. Some eat the poorest that they may sell the best. Others overload their tables, so that the jaded appetite is too much tempted. Nature calls for a rest, but we put on an extra burden as though compelling a tired beast to do double duty.

The result is worn out digestion, impoverished blood, and consequent inability to withstand malaria. Good judgment will have that which is good, and a suitable variety, without going to either extreme of too much or not enough.

Third, We all eat too quickly and chew too quickly, if it can really be said that we chew at all. At private tables or at public hotels, watch proceedings for a while, and you will be amazed at the variety of things eaten and the quantity disposed of in the short space of fifteen or twenty-five minutes. It is a regular clatter of dishes and gallop of jaws. Here you will find that "evil communications corrupt good manners," for ere you are aware, even with the determination not to do so, you are rushing along as fast as the others. I never had more than two weeks of hotel life, and I think a month of it would