The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-03-18
NEWFOUNDLAND FARMS
Graveyards and Gardens the Worl
-. of Generations. .#.-r

"iaSeyAEus Hnu UaruenS the work
>-. of Generations. ..*--r
Norman Duncan, in Ainslee's Magazine.
1t Wrings the heart of a man from
fertile place to observe with what depth
of tenderness the soil Of the remote New
foundland Is cultivated. To him, used to
the sight of large rewards, the labor
seems futile and tragic. He looks upon
the fsherman-farmer as some old paddle
punt. hand might look upon an inlander
who set out to catch a whale with bent
pin and spool Of thread. Not only the
graveyards, but the gardens are made by
hand. The soil is gathered here and there
and everywhere, scraped from the rocks
and dumped, year by year, in some shell
tered place, until the new land is ready
for the seed. 1t took twenty years to
make the little garden where Aunt
Phoebe's black currant bushes and roses
marVelously prolong starved existence.
Past generations made the meadow at
Exploits from which men of to-day reap
their pounds Of hay and gather their
quarts of potatoes. Moreover. many$ a
Fogo garden once blossomed in England.
Not long ago soil was imported and sold
by weight. English gardens were shipped
to Merchandising in the holds of vessels,
bound out for dried fish.
Be you from New Yark, as they says,
s1r?p man asked me, in d small harbor
OF White bay. Affirmatively answered, he
continued, "Woan't you come out t. my
garden, sir? IT'S some queer things Two
CROWN there. An It's English soil. al
they thinks, an they be dom we'll
"Twould do your heart good to see um. >.
This was Tom Butts. whose son had sent
him package Ok assorted ases6s from
Maine. Unhappily for Tom, the letter had
been lost in the mails; nor was there
label on a single package.
What be that, sir ?' said he. potntiua
to hagagrd growth of stalks
Corn" said l.
Now, is un?" said he. strokine his
beard and smiling in an intensely grattfied
way. Sure, Ell? Hem-m! Does you
know what that is In the carner?"'
'Tis tomato plant" said T.
~ Now, Is un' said he. IT thought twas
what they calls carrots. IT'S a to-ma- TO.
you says; an tbs what I thought was
carrots. Well, WE'LL Would you think O.
that!'' nj
Tom Butts was eager to rid himself OF
the burden Of wonder which had so long
oppressed him-tremulously eager He
had planted in wonder. But he was too
polite or cautious to be precipitate The
stranger must not be offended, must not
be frightened away-this stranger who
had at last come to satisfy his heart's
yearnings.
In1s, ne SAID, STOPPING to caress a
small green plant, sis what calls real
cabbage"
TITS cabbage said l.
Now, is un?" Tom burst out, his face
radiant. Sure, | guessed the right
didn't I? But they be queer queer
thing t'other side O. the Eaters. Take a
look at I'm, sir. Ills like you never seed
such thing afore. Aft O. the taters
sir. Sure, tbs that
1t was pumpkin vine, all run to leaf:
and 1T bore one broad yellow blossom
which was then willing without promise
of fruition.
:. tbs but flower, think sir" said
Tom tbs nothing to eat. whatever
tbs pumpkin said I.
Tom looked up quickly. BE you sure.
said he, that you know un? IT'S like.
he went on doubtfully, .sthey grows II
the gardens t New Yark? Well, maybe
It's pumpkin, II you says So 1 hearr
tell O they things. Woan't you have 3
glass o. goats milk, sir? No? Good
even, sir. IT'S a fine garden, this-noY
bent UNI"
'Tis fine garden, SIR said L; for
as looked into his glowing face, I had
no heart to call his child cripple. even
though she were one, when she was ali
fair and glorious in his sight.