The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-11-28
Onions In New England
(By George French)

The greatest drag on New England is the New England indisposition to think well of ttseIf-the old New Englanders, I mean, who have been bred to believe that the section is about the most unpromising on the face of the earth. They cannot seem to become reconci1ed to the idea of real prosperity. They are hanging onto the few dollars their grand fathers left for their fathers, and their fathers did not spend.
 Your genuine o1d-time New Eng lander grew prosperous, such prosper ity as it was, through not spending rather than through earning and sav- ing. Real saving is putting aside some portion of ones earnings Ac- cumuIating through not spending is different, and has a, different effect upon people. It is keeping money that by rights ought to be paid to others, for the comforts and decencies of life.
 I have had so many distressing ex- perfences to prove this, during the past three years. It takes g. real WeSterner to appreciate this quality of keeping that which ought to be spent Once talked about New England to the business staff of one of the biggest concerns in Boston, owned by Western men. It hap pened that the managing owner was one of my auditors. After the talk
 
 Englander talk about his home sec ton as though he was a Westerner! Usually my audiences have rather doubted what I have said about New England, looking upon me as Q, sort of harmless 1unatic.
 Once I had been talking to a busi- ness organization near Boston, and I felt the tolerant doubt some of them were indulging, and let out all the big stories about New England successes on the land that could recall; and I l believed I garnished some of them quite some. When had stopped not finish hed-tvvo or three said a few good-natured things, and one old flint face voiced his doubt Then up rose a red-faced man and said he was a Boston commission man, and that he
 could match anything had said. and perhaps go me one better, out of his l own experience; and he told an onion story.
 He said he knew a man who was | obliged to leave his city job and get out on the farm, or be put under the land. q interrupted to say that know l a lot of that kind of hen stories, but che c. m- raised his hand and said his was not hen story). His man 1 that had to go back to the land went 1 into the western part of Massachusetts and bought a peach farm, with a fine large orchard of trees that were about
 
 were few peaches when he went to look. The next year there were a few more, and the second year there
 were but a. few peaches-not enough
 to make the trees profitable. The
 third year, when the trees were six
 years old, there were still but a. few
 peaches, though the trees looked thrifty and the season had been a 1 good one.
 The man was puzzled, and began to | be discouraged. He thought of the state agricultural college at Amherst, and went there to consult some of the l soil experts. He was a Yankee. He
 was a New Englander-thrifty, can l ny, given to keeping the money he ought to spend, afraid of fees, and not having too much faith in the col lege professors-when 1t came to the
 practical work of farming, you know. He was not quite a Jeremiah, how ever, and as long as the professor did not mention the matter of a fee he went on talking about his peach or l chard that would not yield to crop of
 peaches Finally he came to be- neve that the professor knew what Ene was talking about, and asked what 1t would cost to get him to visit the 1 farm. The professor had sized-up l his man, and qutzzically inquired the l cost of a railroad t1cKet to the town,
 and whether the peach man had a |
 that it would cost him "a darned good i dinner to get him to visit the farm l and give his opinion about the peach es.
 The professor arrived at the peach
 farm, got his good dinner, and went
 out to view the peach land OCT. He l looked about, tapped some of the l rocks with his little hammer (there were but very few stones within | reach) and took up handful of the
 soil, letting it slip through his hn- l gers slowly, and rubbing it between I his thumb and palm as it went. This he did in several sections of the or chard, and then said to the farmer, 1 abruptly:
 l .silt, Ioamy silt; or silty 1oan1, as 1 you like. Just what I expected to 1 find. Just what I knew was here.
 I did not dare to tell you in Amherst, l for knew you were one of the New
 England Doubling Thomases. You 1 would not have believed m@there. Now. you get busy and pull up these l peach trees and put this land into
 onionsI'
 The farmers mouth hung open. He
 stared. He gasped and swa1l owed. | Finally he blurted out: What Pull
 up those fine young peach trees! They 1 have not yet given g. crop. They are just ready to bear. They have cost me a heap of money. Pull 'em up ? | You must be crazy
 1 'tBut you must pull them up. They l will never bear paying crops You
 sec this land is ideal onion land. Ii is just that peculiar composition of silt and loam that onions require. I Why, if you put in onions here
 And then followed a keen lecture on
 onion culture, and finally the profes-
 sor betook himself again to Amherst,
 almost persuadedethat the peach man 1 would cling to his peaches But he
 did not altogether. He took his cour-
 age in his hands and pulled up about
 a quarter of the peach trees and
 planted onions. have forgotten just
 how many acres there was in this
 first years onion patch, but the c. m said !, raid tka 1aaact man s1 6An for