Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1913-02-05
HAVING BAD LUCK
WITH THE GARDEN

whats that fuzzy-looking stuff out
In your back yard?" asked the caller,
curiously.
Her hostess glanced from the L.
brary window into sad-looking gar
den and frowned Those" she in
formed her guest tartly, ARE per
ennial sweet pinks."
"Pinks?" echoed the visitor, who
lived in suburb.
"As I said, they are pinks," repeat
ed the hostess in gloomy voice. If
you don believe me you can look
on the envelope the seeds came in.
They came two years ago, but have
preserved the envelope In the drawer
of the kitchen table for the specific
purpose of convincing scoffers like
YOU"
The caller laughed. Were they
ever pink?" she inquired.
"They were not" said the other,
passing a plate Of sponge cake. "But.
for the matter Of that, my sweet will
liam was not sweet and my forget
me-nots forgot to bloom and my climb
ing verbena grew into BUSH"
"What a pity!" said the caller SYM
pathetically. you must have had.
uncommonly bad luck with your gar
den. We raised all the vegetables we
could eat this year,
"Oh, we raised vegetables, too, but
we couldn't eat them," said the hos
tess. "You see, vegetable garden
is one of the joys we promised our
selves when we decided to stay in
town this summer and save money.
1 got out the old grocery checks for
last March and April and figured them
over and found that what we paid
for vegetables for those two months
was IL per cent. Of our entire table
expenses. So, of course, Edward and
I estimated that by saving that IL
per cent. all during the summer we
should have lot Of money to use In
some other way"
"But." objected the visitor, docs
that follow exactly? You know, vege-
tables are terribly high in March and
April, because so many Of them are
hothouse grown"
"Oh, dear, yes" conceded the city
housekeeper, "but I couldn't find the
grocery bills so far back as summer
of last year and, anyway, there was
no harm done, because the more you
think you're saving the happier you
feel about it."
$50 you planted vegetables"
prompted the caller.
1--WE did," answered her hostess. "We
hired a gardener at 81 day to put
in the seeds because we though it
would pay to have 1t done scientifoal-
ly. 1 found out afterward that the
gardener was a tinsmith out of a job.
The tinsmiths were having strike, or
something, and he was union man,
so, not being able to tin, he took to
gardening to kill time. Possibly he
wanted to get near to nature. But
I think he must have had an unsym-
pathetic disposition and then-well,
probably they were nonunion seeds,
because they came up month ]ater,
looking as If they begrudged the1et-
fort
The visitor appeared scandalized at
the others ignorance. "Of course.
DEAR" she said, suavely, "you must
have realized that it was due to the
cold weather that your seeds didn't
come up. You shouldn't have put
them in until later"
1--WE put ou2 potatoes in later" said
the hostess,s "and they grew so that
Edward and felt sure they. at least,
would repay US for our trouble. /
watered them twice a day and they
grew four feet high" She sighed.
did they decay in the ground?"
inquired the suburbanite.
"No, indeed" said her hostess.
There was nothing to decay. We
had company to luncheon one day
and | went out to our own potato
patch to get some potatoes to bake.
I was sure they must be ripe and
had planned special treat pulled
up the stalks and dug a foot deep
and sifted the ground and I got five
potatoes the size of French peas She
smiled ruefully. "And the cats ate
our parsley" she added.
I'm so sorry" murmured her
friend, with a superior smile, "but,
Itafter all, suppose one can't expect
much from a city garden You'll
have to come out to our little village
to live and then you can enjoy your
own garden stuff
"I'm sure we should" assented the
city dweller, politely. but. you see,
I've already resigned myself to buy
ing our vegetables. They seem so
cheap, now that I've tried raising
things myself"