borne up under calamity, and been quite as fortunate as others, even
when the horizon was overcast by heavy clouds. But now we were
comparatively comfortable; the sky above us was serene, and our hopes
were buoyant; the venture I was proposing to make would cost but a
trifling sum, and, if failure came, the loss could not be great It was
not farming that I was to undertake. There was no land to be bought; it
was merely the better cultivation of what we already had. There was not
even a tool to be purchased. Now no one would be surprised at the
conversion of our whole garden into a cabbage-field; yet many would
wonder at our turning it into a strawberry-patch. It would be a novelty
for women to undertake; and, alas! while even vicious novelties are
tolerated in men, those most innocent are frowned upon when indulged in
by women. But we cared not for what others might say or think. My
assurance of success was so strong that it overbore every other
consideration. Besides, I was strengthened by the encouragement of every
member of our little family.
I am not about to write an apology for women's undertaking even a large
horticultural establishment. Of ordinary rough farming I will not speak,
as that is confessedly beyond the domain of female strength. But there
are individuals of the sex who have large flower-gardens, even
fruit-gardens, in which everything is made to bloom and bear
luxuriantly. They neither dig nor hoe, but they frequently plant and
train and trim, overseeing and directing where and when the spade, the
hoe, and the watering-pot shall be applied. Their cultivated taste gives
symmetry and grace to borders, trellises, and walks,--decking the first
with floral gorgeousness, hanging the second with festoons whose
perfumes load the atmosphere, and lining the third with edgings that
wear an ever-flashing greenness even under the frigid temperature of a
wintry sky. It is not by their own hands that these marvels are wrought.
It is of their passionate fondness for tree and fruit and flower that
such humanizing results are born. They spring from the mind, the heart,
the understanding, not from the manual labor of their fair authors. Too
few of my sex have sufficiently informed themselves of these simple
affairs of the garden: their inheritance has been the needle only. But
it was nothing of this ornate description that I was about to undertake.
I was to have neither arbor nor trellis,--no sweet-scented honeysuckle
clustering over an elaborate framework,--no parterre of beautiful
flowers, glorious to behold, but producing no profit,--not even marigold
or lady's-slipper. There was to be no fancy-work, but everything was to
be practical. I was now in search of profit, trusting that the future
would enable me to indulge in the ornamental.
The first thing was to procure the strawberry-plants. I knew of none who
had them but the Tetchy family, and they guarded all their doings so
closely that I half despaired of obtaining any from them. Why they did
so we could not exactly tell, but our conclusion was that they must be
unwilling to have competitors in their business. But though never
admiring the manners of any of the family, I resolved to make a trial
with them. There were reasons for hoping I might succeed. Miss Belinda
Tetchy, notwithstanding her odd name, was quite a belle. She had been
immensely popular with the young gentlemen who came to the
strawberry-garden. My sister Jane had once very ill-naturedly insinuated
that they came there as much to flirt with her as to indulge in
strawberries, and that one could readily eat his way into the affections
of the whole family. I did not like the remark, although probably there
might be some truth in it. But one of these admirers continued to visit
at old Tetchy's even when the excuse of coming for strawberries could no
longer be given, and very soon our little neighborhood learned the
interesting news that one of the Tetchy girls was about to change her
name. My sister said she pitied the young man. Indeed, she went so far
as to say that it was astonishing what risks were run by all such when
looking round for a wife. As to Belinda, she was sure, that, though
there might be a change of name, there would be no change of temper, as
the latter was something she got by Nature, while the former came by
accident. But Jane had a little dash of tartness in her own disposition,
which was very apt to break out when topics of this kind came up for
discussion. Though I could not help agreeing with her in the main, yet I
considered it no more than fair to remind her that the choosing of a
husband was quite as risky a business for the girls.
These things occurred towards the close of summer. Miss Belinda's
wedding-day had been fixed for early in September. Of course there was
considerable fluttering among the young people of the neighborhood,--the
girls, candor obliges me to say, being much more intensely affected than
the young men. It was understood that Mrs. Tetchy intended to have a
grand wedding for her daughter, by way, as my sister said, of showing
her new son that her daughter was somebody, a fact of which Jane thought
he would have a realizing experience much sooner than he expected. Now
it was desirable for us to conciliate the Tetchys, and we thought the
occasion of a wedding a good opportunity to do so. Accordingly, when the
eventful day arrived, I carried to the house a really magnificent vase
of flowers which we had gathered from our garden, and presented it to
the bride. Both she and her mother received it with a profusion of
thanks that was remarkable for them to indulge in, adding that they
would be sure and have it placed in the centre of the great table at the
wedding. I had also contemplated accompanying it with a few
complimentary verses,--not that I was at all poetically inclined, but my
idea was that they would feel a little grand at having some poetry about
on the occasion. Indeed, I did write something, but it was so much of an
effort that I have never made a second attempt. When I read the lines to
Jane, she went off into a strain of merriment over what she called my
folly, and said, in her usual sharp way, that that was not what the
Tetchys cared for,--they had no faith in any kind of jingle but that of
money.
Everybody in the neighborhood, as a matter of course, knew all that
transpired at the wedding,--how many people were there, how the bride
was dressed, what presents she received, how she looked and behaved, and
what she said, as well as what sort of a dinner they had. We learned,
also, that there was a profusion of bride-cake, in nice little white
boxes tied with sky-blue ribbon, sent to friends and acquaintances in
token of friendly remembrance. As we were living close by, and felt that
we had strong claims, we expected ours would be received the next day at
least. But the day passed, and the next and the next, and still no
bride-cake came. A week longer proved that we had been either overlooked
by accident of positively cut by design. Jane became indignant at the
apparent slight; I was only alarmed lest my diplomacy had failed. I
cared nothing for the bride-cake, but only for the strawberry-plants.
So, when we thought the family had recovered from the confusion and
really hard work which are always incident to a grand wedding, I
summoned up courage to go and see Mrs. Tetchy and ask her to sell me
some plants. I had great misgivings as to my success; and in addition,
the fear of her sharp temper and language made me nervous. I could stand
up and face and argue with a man without flinching; but somehow the
rasping savagery of a termagant woman always overcame me.
It happened, when I went into the garden, that both she and her husband
were engaged in taking up what appeared to me to be the runners which
had grown that summer, and were setting them out in new rows, by a line
that extended across the entire bed. I observed also that they were
throwing away many plants, probably because the ground was too crowded.
But there was scarcely a moment allowed me for observation; for I had no
sooner walked up to where they were at work than Mrs. Tetchy rose up
quickly, and saluted me with,--
"How did you get in? Wasn't the gate bolted?"
I replied, that, as no one had answered my call at the front door, I
supposed they must be in the garden, and so had taken the liberty of
coming in. I could have feigned some apology inconsistent with
sincerity, but that was not my way. Besides, her manner was so
unexpectedly abrupt as to confuse me. There she stood, with a
garden-trowel in her hand, in working dishabille, and presenting
altogether a needlessly unattractive picture of a female horticulturist;
for, though operating in a garden is really working in the dirt, yet it
does not follow that one must of necessity be dirty herself.
"Do you want anything?" she again asked, in the same snappish tone.
"Yes, Ma'am," I replied,--"I came to see if I could buy a few
strawberry-plants."
"I thought that's what you were going at," she answered, even more
sharply. "That's what your pimping about us comes to. Want to ruin our
business, do you, and have strawberries of your own to sell to our
customers? You can't get any here: we don't sell plants."
The woman's manner forbade all persuasion or argument. Her husband kept
on with his work, saying nothing; she was evidently the master-spirit of
garden as well as household, and I turned away so vexed and indignant as
not even to bid the churl a good-morning. I could hear the mutterings of
her anger to her husband as I walked quickly away, and am half ashamed
to confess, that, as I passed through the gate, I slammed it to with all
the energy of a real spitefulness. Not one of us has ever stepped foot
upon the inhospitable premises of these people since. And Jane so
persistently snubbed the son, that he very soon discovered, that,
instead of being desirous of assuming the name of Tetchy, she would
prefer never to hear it even mentioned.
I have somewhere read of two charming women being once engaged in
discussing the question of what it is that constitutes the beauty of the
human hand. There was difference of opinion, of course, and no really
definite idea of the true elements of beauty. Unable to decide
themselves, they referred it to a gentleman present. His mind went back
to, and wandered over, the classics, exhausting the heathen mythology
for examples and parallels, but he could come to no conclusion until the
shining illustrations of the Christian faith rose up before him. Taking
the white hand of each fair disputant in his own, he said,--
"The question is too hard for me to answer; but ask the _poor_, those
who in any way solicit from us a favor, and they will tell you that the
most beautiful hand in the world is the hand that _gives_."
I could have discovered beauty even in that of our neighbor, coarse and
soiled as it was, had it been open and generous. But the nerves by whose
agency the human hand is opened freely or as tightly closed must have
their source in the human heart. If there be sympathy for others there,
a politeness of the heart, the kindly impulses thus living and moving
within it will vibrate through every cord of one's being, and,
struggling for outward expression, will manifest their presence by the
warm grasp of the hand, the cordial smile, the gently modulated voice,
the unflagging effort to promote the happiness of all around. I had not
asked a gift; it was the jealous indisposition to oblige that so grieved
and confounded me.
I had always supposed that horticulture was one of the ennobling
arts,--that it enlarged the affections and refined the manners of all
who pursued it, even when they did so as a matter of pecuniary gain.
Here was evidence that in one instance I was mistaken. But it was the
single exception to what may be regarded as the general rule; for in
other cases I have found humble cultivators of both fruit and flowers,
to whose genial hearts all selfish unwillingness to communicate a
knowledge of the art, or to supply me with plants, was a total stranger.
There are thousands of pioneers such as I was. It is well for them that
the light they need is not hidden under the bushel of any one churlish
individual. But there were ample expedients remaining, and it required
more than one discouragement to divert me from the object we were
seeking to accomplish.
There stands in the centre of Second Street, in Philadelphia, a
market-house extending two squares below Pine Street, long famous for
its overflowing supplies of fruits and vegetables. In passing through it
on my daily walk to the factory, I now remembered having seen abundance
of strawberries on the various stands; but, having at that time no
special interest in the subject, I had only noticed the beauty of their
crimson pyramids, the abundant supply, and the throngs of buyers that
gathered round them. I took no thought of price, nor of where or how
they were produced, as that branch of horticulture had never engaged my
attention. But now the case was different. I remembered that most of
these stands had been attended by women, and that one in particular had
been famous for the quantity of its daily supply of fruit, as well as
for the crowd of customers that collected about it.
I lost no time in calling on the occupant. Though the strawberries had
long since disappeared, yet she sat surrounded with a profusion of
vegetables,--one kind succeeding another as the seasons changed. In all
the public markets of Philadelphia, this business of retailing what is
popularly known as "truck" has become an inheritance of the poor women
ever abounding in a great city. It is a hard and exacting business.
Whether well or ill, the earliest daybreak finds them at their posts.
There they stand or sit until the evening shadows begin to lengthen.
Through all weathers they observe the same compulsory routine. No
morning rain is too drenching, no snow too blinding, no cold too bitter,
to keep from their stands these heroic toilers for a bare subsistence.
Multitudes of them are mothers of families, whom they are thus obliged
to leave half-uncared-for at home. Many are poor widows, burdened also
with the care of children. Every other avenue to employment being
closed, they are forced into this public exposure of the open air, in
many cases with a mere shed to shelter them from the inclement weather.
But while thus dispensing food to others, they earn it honestly for
themselves. They live, and sometimes accumulate money. The shrewd
managing ones have been known to become independent. Some of them begin
upon a capital of a few dollars wherewith to furnish their stands, but
not succeeding, they retire from the crowd and drop out of sight. Talent
is necessary even for the sale of truck: not possessing it, they are
driven to some employment of a humbler description. These women are not
producers of the fruits and vegetables they have to sell. Most of these
are grown by truckers in the suburbs, who supply the market-stands with
a daily assortment during the season. But the business of thus
trafficking in the open thoroughfare is a hard one for females. Custom
has reconciled the public eye to it, but necessity alone has made it
tolerable for women.
When I called at the strawberry-stand referred to, and entered into
conversation with the occupant, I at once discovered that I was
conversing with one infinitely above the situation she was filling.
Indeed, if courteousness, gentleness, and the manifestation of a sincere
desire to gratify the wishes of another are to be considered as
characteristic of a lady, this woman was one. I did not notice how she
dressed, but only how pleasantly she spoke. I know it will be deemed
evidence of extreme simplicity in me to intimate the possibility of a
lady being found among the occupants of a public market. I know that
before one can be considered lady-like, in the common acceptation of the
term, she must be shown to be perfectly useless. By this rule she must
be devoid of everything that may entitle her to the love and protection
which she claims of right, before she can receive either. It is
fashionable with some ladies to be invalids and helpless, and some are
nursed and coddled up because they take on accomplishments of this
description. Of course no one will expect me to know how the domestic
arrangements of Adam and Eve were conducted. But I may presume that
Adam's dinners were prepared with as much gastronomic skill as had up
to that time been attained, and that if Eve had set up to be a
fashionable invalid, wholly dependent on Adam, and not a help-meet,
there would have been a domestic mutiny even in the Garden of Eden. Our
primal mother could not have been less pleasing because she happened to
be a capital cook. Thus the truly gentle heart will lose nothing of its
native gentleness, though forced by misfortune into a humbler station.
Such must have been the character of the woman I was addressing. There
was something in her voice, moreover, that struck me as a familiar
sound, and, long before our conversation had ended, I recognized her as
the widow whom, years ago, I had seen made the victim of a heartless
imposition at the counter of a slop-shop. She had gone through trial
after trial, and now, lady though she certainly was, there she stood at
a fruit-stand in the public market.
There was no difficulty in obtaining plants through her. Like some
others in the market, she sold many things on commission, among which
were strawberry-plants for the trucker who supplied her with fruit. I
engaged all I should need for an acre of ground, not then knowing how
many would be wanted. Then I went into a long course of inquiry touching
the business of raising and selling strawberries, but more particularly
in relation to the latter. When I suggested the possibility of not
finding a market, she broke out into loud merriment.
"Bring them to me, Miss," she cried. "I can sell all that you will be
able to produce. I have never yet had a full supply for my customers.
This market has never within my experience had too many strawberries,
and I have been here three years."
She gave me abundant information concerning the whole business of
selling, which at that time I regarded as the most important, having,
notwithstanding my new-born enthusiasm, felt considerable doubt as to
whether we could dispose of our crop. But here, according to her
account, the sale was sure. Then she went into quite a long explanation
of how the fruit was to be made ready for market, just as if I had
already produced it, telling me that the berries must be selected when
they were picked, the large and fine ones being kept separate from the
smaller ones. She said it would be tedious and troublesome, but it gave
a good return, as there were those among her customers who would pay any
price for fine berries. I observed, that it was probably the wealthy
ones who thus insisted on having the best. But she replied, it was not
always so; there were quite poor people who would buy nothing but the
very best in the market; though even the smallest had the genuine
strawberry-flavor, yet persons who really could not afford it did not
hesitate to take the largest, at the highest price: the appearance, not
the flavor of the fruit, seemed to regulate this. She remarked, that the
extravagance of some families in thus indulging themselves was to her
very surprising. But among the several classes of consumers all kinds
were readily disposed of, the result being that she never had an
overstock,--and there need be no apprehension on my part, therefore, of
not finding a market, and at good prices, for all I could raise, no
matter what the times might be. She had long since learned, that, the
more people there were who got a taste of good fruit, the more freely
they would consume it. Her great regret was that the strawberry-season
did not extend over the whole year. On my suggesting, that, if such a
thing could be brought about, there would be danger of the public
becoming tired of them,--
"What!" she exclaimed, with animation, "tired of strawberries? Don't
distress yourself too soon. Strawberries are a thing of which the public
have never yet had a surfeit."
All this was exceedingly encouraging to me, and I made a full report at
home of what I had thus learned. I was rejoiced at being able to carry
out my plan in spite of our ill-natured neighbors. Besides this, the
conversation referred to showed us that their pretence of my wanting to
ruin their business by raising strawberries was only a piece of mean
and unreasonable jealousy,--that there was no real likelihood of such an
event occurring, inasmuch as the demand was apparently unlimited. It is
very probable, however, that it was from pure ill-temper that they
refused to sell me any plants, an unwillingness to see us do well, not
from any apprehension of an overstocking of the market; as long
experience must have taught them, equally with the market-woman, that
that was a comparative impossibility.
There were various impediments to be overcome, even after ascertaining
that we were sure of selling all we could produce. Those who are
experienced in horticulture will smile at my simplicity and ignorance,
and wonder how so many difficulties beset me. But even they must have
had some sort of probation, which they overlook when reading this
history of mine. We are all, at some period, mere beginners in
everything. There were hundreds of visitors to our neighbor's garden who
had never seen a strawberry-plant until then. When mine were fairly
started, I witnessed the same display of ignorance in others who came to
visit us. Some ladies, occasionally gentlemen even, supposed the vines
ran up trees, and that the fruit was gathered like cherries. It is
possible that this may be read by some gentle spirit, some anxious
inquirer after a brighter pathway through a checkered life, some one of
my own sex whose aspirations may be in harmony with mine, and whose
fortunes may have been infinitely more unpropitious, in the hope of
gathering from my humble experience sufficient light to guide her in a
similar undertaking. I doubt not there are thousands in our country
whose tastes would lead them in the same direction, did opportunity
offer, and were the requisite knowledge at hand. I therefore record all
the trials that impeded my progress. When difficulties are known
beforehand, they may often be avoided.
I was unwilling to lose a day from the factory by walking several miles
into the country to visit the man who supplied my friendly market-woman
with strawberries, and from whom the plants were to come. But while
waiting for him to bring them in, together with the information I
desired as to how and when to plant them, an incident occurred which
gave me a complete knowledge of the whole theory of strawberry-culture.
I had gone with my mother, one Saturday evening, to a neighboring
grocery for certain articles we needed; and while standing at the
counter, awaiting our turn to be served, a boy came in with a large
bundle of old newspapers for sale as wrappers, placing it on the counter
directly beside me. Casting my eye upon it, I noticed that the outside
paper bore the title of "The New England Farmer." I then examined the
bundle, untied it, and found that there were many numbers of the same
journal, and underneath these a collection of "The Country Gentleman." I
had never seen an agricultural paper before, though our little penny
daily did occasionally contain extracts from some of them. I became
immediately interested. The thought struck me that this bundle of old
papers, now about to be used for such ignoble purposes as wrappers for
groceries, must contain stores of the very information I was so
laboriously seeking after. Hastily turning them over, my eye lighted on
an article headed "Strawberries: how to plant and how to cultivate
them." I was fairly dipping into it, when my mother, giving me a nudge,
told me she was ready to go. But it was far otherwise with me, and I
began bargaining with the boy for his bundle. That matter was soon
concluded, as the grocer declined buying; so I took them at a few cents
a pound. They came to nearly a dollar, but I had my week's wages in my
pocket, and am certain that I never made an investment so cheerfully,
nor any, considering the amount, that was half so useful to me as this.
Buying knowledge by the pound was quite a new idea with me.