That was a long and dreary winter which succeeded this beginning of my
experimental life. The snow fell heavily, and so frequently that my
plants were completely hidden from view during a great part of the
season. But, so far from doing them an injury, the fleecy mantle
protected them from the open exposure to cold under which the strawberry
will sometimes perish. It was a privation to me to have them thus
entirely shut up from observation; but more than once, when the snow had
softened under the influence of an incipient thaw, I could not refrain
from plunging my hands into it and uncovering a plant here and there, to
see how they were faring. So far from perishing under the continued
cold, I found them holding up their heads with wonderful erectness,
their leaves crisp and fresh, with an intense greenness that contrasted
strongly with the white blanket in which Nature had kindly wrapped them.
Thus satisfied that they were well provided for, I endeavored to check
my impatience for the coming spring: for really it seemed the longest
winter I had ever known.
Both my sister and myself continued our labors at the factory, though we
discovered evidences that even at machine-sewing there was likely to be
some uncertainty as to continued employment at the usual remunerative
prices. We had learned to have entire confidence in its stability; but
symptoms were appearing that the business, in some of its branches, was
likely to be overdone. The makers of the first machines, having sold
immense numbers at high prices, had acquired vast fortunes. This invited
competition, and manufactories of rival machines having been established
by those who had invented modifications of the original idea, the
quantity thrown upon the market was very great, while prices were so
reduced that additional thousands were now enabled to obtain machines
and set them to work. The competition among the makers thus gave rise to
competition among those who used the machines. Prices of work declined
in consequence, and of course the sewing-girls were required to bear a
large share of this decline, in the shape of a reduction of wages. We
could do nothing but submit, for the needle was the only staff we had to
lean upon. If we were to continue realizing as much per week as before,
we could do so in no other way than by working longer and more
industriously. This fell very hard upon us during that long winter. We
could afford no holidays, no recreation, not even to be sick. As we felt
we had no dependence but the needle, we still clung to the idea, that,
if we could purchase machines of our own, we should do much better But
though now reduced in price, yet the hope of getting them grew fainter
and fainter under the reduction of wages, and hence my growing
impatience to achieve some more remunerative employment.
The bright spring at last opened kindly and genially upon us. The snow
disappeared, leaving my strawberries in the most healthy condition, and
free from the unsightly fringe-work of dead foliage which encircles
plants that have been compelled to go through a hard winter without
protection. I was exultant at the promise which their vigorous
appearance held forth. I even stole a view, through the cracks in the
fence, at those of our disagreeable neighbors, to see if they were doing
any better, and was gratified by finding that mine were equally thrifty.
Fred and I contrived to stir up the ground about them with heavy rakes,
though a harrow would have been more effective. April covered the whole
bed with a profusion of blossoms that even our experienced neighbors
could not exceed. They came often to our gate, and with more impudence
than I could muster when stealing an observation through their fence,
there they stood, two or three together, inspecting my beautiful rows
for an hour at a time. I wondered what they could find to interest them
so greatly, as in their eyes the sight could have been no novelty; but I
fear, that, if surprised at my success thus far, their wonder must have
been tinged with a jealousy that rendered the display as unpleasant to
them as it was encouraging to me.
No one ever watched the opening of the blossoms, their dropping off, and
the formation of the fruit, more attentively than I did. Every spare
hour was passed among them. The bees flew over the beds, dipping into
one flower after another, and filling the air with a perpetual humming.
Even at the earliest morning hour, when the sun had barely reached the
garden, I found them at their honeyed labors. The poet who declared that
many a flower was born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the
desert air, must have believed that the winged denizens of the air had
no inheritance in them,--that their sweets were wasted because no human
eye was present to admire them. I cannot agree with him; for here, when
our garden was a solitude, with no human eye to admire its wealth of
blossoms, they were thick with bees, and surely upon them their sweets
were far from being wasted. The flowers must have been created as much
for the enjoyment of nameless insects as for the gratification of man.
As May advanced, I could see the fruit forming in clusters that gave
token of an ample crop. But as the heat increased I found that other
candidates for observation presented themselves in prodigious numbers,
not near so interesting, but imperatively demanding attention. The weeds
shot up all through and between the rows with a luxuriance that
astonished me. The winter reading of my agricultural library had taught
me that good strawberries cannot be expected when a rank growth of weeds
is permitted to occupy the soil. My father's garden-tools were heavy and
clumsy, made only for a strong man to use; but we plied the hoes
vigorously in keeping down the interlopers. They were dull tools, with
thick handles, unsuitable for women's use, so that the mere weight of
the implements fatigued us more than the labor of hoeing. But all the
family shared in this work until it was accomplished, and our ground was
made as cleanly as that of our neighbors. Besides the extermination of a
host of pests that sucked up the nutriment and moisture necessary to the
plants, the operation kept the surface of the ground open and mellow,
permitting the sun and air to penetrate, and thus stimulate the growing
fruit into berries of superior size. I am sure that it is by attention
to this single matter of permitting no weeds to grow that most of the
success in strawberry-culture may be attributed.
As I watched my fruit-laden plants as attentively as if each one had
been an infant, it should not be wondered at that my ever-present eye
detected the first tinge of redness that showed itself among them. No
one can imagine with how absorbing an interest I hung over this pioneer
evidence of complete success. I could tell which row contained it, and
on which plant in the row a blushing cheek was held up to the sun. But
in a day or two the identity of the ripening berry was lost, for a
thousand of its fellows became equally ambitious of notice, changing
their delicate green into a softened, but decided scarlet. The hot suns
of early June were pouring down upon the sheltered spot where the plants
were growing, and it was time for them to ripen their wealth of fruit. I
presume that he who boasts the possession of a dozen acres of
strawberries has never experienced sensations such as were now the
ruling ones of my heart. Here was I--a sewing-girl--breaking through the
ordinary routine of female occupations, and standing on the threshold of
an enterprise considered by the world unsuited to my sex, unfeminine
because uniformly undertaken by men, hazardous because untried by women,
but practically within the power of all having taste and courage to
venture upon it,--here was I about to realize the dream of a whole year,
the reward of untold anxieties, the solution of the great problem
whether the garden were better than the needle.
The very day I made the discovery that the first berry had begun to
change color, I hastened to my friend the market-woman, intending to
tell her how finely I was coming on, and that she must be prepared to
sell my crop. As I had no acquaintance with other strawberry-growers, I
had little opportunity of ascertaining by comparison with them whether
my fruit would come earlier or later into market than that of others,
but took it for granted that mine would be first. It was the mistake of
an ignorance which subsequent reading and observation have corrected.
Thus, when I came up to the widow's stand in the market, I was
confounded at seeing her sitting beside a huge wooden tray heaped up
with ripe berries. No doubt I had seen the same thing as early in the
season, years before, but, having no interest in the subject as a
fruit-grower, I had never consulted dates. But now, being deeply
interested, the effect of this prematurely early display of fruit was
that of astonishment and disappointment. I knew that being early in the
market was a vital point, and supposed that I was as early as the
earliest; but here was evidence that I had been forestalled. I had
hardly courage to inquire where these berries came from, or what price
she was getting for them. But the crowd of purchasers around the stand
was so great that no one would have noticed my appearance, even if my
emotions had been written on my face. They were contending with each
other to be served, and at seventy-five cents a quart! This much could
be seen and heard without the trouble of inquiry. How I envied the
grower of the precious fruit in which so many were indulging at this
extravagant price! How the sight dismayed me,--I had been so completely
anticipated by some more skilful cultivator! I did not even seek to
catch the widow's eye, nor to ask a single question. The spectacle so
discouraged me that I moved off with a heavy heart to my accustomed
avocations.
It was but dull practice on my sewing-machine during the whole of that
day. It is true I thought a thousand times of my own strawberries, but
then those of my successful competitor were quite as often in my mind.
How this thing could happen, and why one cultivator should thus
anticipate all others, and command the market when prices were so
enormous, I could not then understand. But I resolved to have the matter
explained. Next morning I was up at daybreak and at the widow's stand.
She was already there, and was engaged in putting the little fixtures in
order on which her daily stock of fruits and vegetables was to be
displayed. No customers were yet visible in this early gray of the
morning, and there was an opportunity for me to make the momentous
inquiries I desired. But there was the same great wooden tray, again up
with at least a bushel of strawberries. My first question was as to
where they came from.
"From Baltimore, Miss," was the reply. "You know they ripen there two
weeks earlier than here. It is farther south, the climate is warmer, and
they come here on the railroad until the price falls so low as to make
it unprofitable to send them. But they are a small, poor berry, not
equal to yours, and will not be in your way. When yours come to market,
these will be all gone. People buy these only because they can get no
better ones."
Here was a mountain of discouragement removed at once. I had not been
forestalled by a neighbor, but only anticipated by some one who had
taken advantage of a warmer climate. Besides, the widow repeated her
cheering assurance of the year before, that she could readily dispose of
all I might have,--not, however, at the high prices she then was
getting, because the same sun that was to ripen mine would ripen those
of all others around me, and bring them into market at the same time;
but if mine should be better than others, she would be able to secure
better prices for them.
I went home to breakfast with a lighter heart, and that day at the
factory made up for the deficiencies of the preceding. But since then,
after the experience of an entire season, I have looked carefully into
this matter of the importance of being first in the market, and I find
it runs through and influences almost every department of horticulture
which is pursued as a source of gain. The struggle everywhere appears to
be for precedence. The horticultural world knows that there is a waiting
community of consumers who stand impatient for the advent of the first
ripened fruits. It knows that with these the price occasions no
hesitancy in the purchase: they are able to pay. Hence no resource of
art or skill is left unpractised to minister to a craving appetite that
yields a reward so golden. One producer erects hot-houses, into which he
crowds the plants that otherwise would be hybernating, and, creating an
artificial summer, stimulates the strawberry into bloom, then into
fruit, even in the depth of winter the ripened berries are seen at some
of the most celebrated fruit-stores. They command fabulous prices,--a
spoonful of them readily bringing a dollar, without the demand being
supplied. The rich always have money to spend; and though the world is
never without its poor, yet it seems also to be never without an
abundance of those who have more than they can wisely dispose of. This
branch of horticulture must be profitable, as it is rapidly extending in
the neighborhood of all our large cities. These hot-house fruits are the
earliest in the market.
Other growers move off to a warmer climate, within one or two days' ride
of the great city by railroad, and, by help of hotter suns, crowd their
half-ripened fruits into Northern markets nearly a month in advance of
local cultivators. Only those varieties being grown which are naturally
earlier than all others, they blush into redness while ours have
scarcely reached their full size. Taken from the vines in an unripe
condition, they are crisp and firm, and the fast express-train whirls
them over hundreds of miles, the ripening process, as well as the
decaying one, going on meanwhile. It is costly transportation to the
growers, but the impatient public pay with readiness a price so
extravagant as to make for these wholesale pioneers a stupendous profit.
Thus the warm alluvial lands encircling Norfolk fill the markets from
Baltimore to Boston with the earliest fruit. It is unripe, and deficient
in the full flavor of the strawberry; but what care the wealthy public
for that? It is the first in market,--they have been a year without
it,--it has somewhat of the genuine aroma,--and, ripe or unripe, they
cannot refrain. Great sums are annually realized by these earliest
caterers for the public palate. The hot-house process is comparatively a
retail operation; but this traffic reaches to the dignity of a great
industrial enterprise, employing hundreds of hands, pouring ample
freightage into the coffers of express-companies, and enriching the men
by whom it is conducted. It is exclusively the offspring of Northern
shrewdness, the sluggish instincts of the Southerner unfitting him for
an occupation requiring incessant activity and promptness,--while its
apparent littleness, the peddling of strawberries, were unworthy a race
whose inheritance is cotton or tobacco.
For a few weeks these cultivators have entire possession of the Northern
market. In time, however, our suns become hotter, ripening the fruits of
our own fields. Then comes the rivalry among ourselves,--who shall be
earliest with the best fruit;--for herein lies an important element of
general success.
My berries ripened rapidly, and I knew they must be ready for picking by
hearing that our neighbors were about beginning. It was a momentous day
when we began. My mother and myself undertook it: for that afternoon I
stayed away from the factory, as it was impossible for me to be absent
from so interesting a scene. I had no idea what quantity we were to
expect, though I had ransacked my agricultural library in hopes of
discovering some approximate solution of this question. Crops were found
to vary as unaccountably as modes of culture. One grower would obtain
more fruit from a few rods of ground than another from a whole acre.
These prevailing contrarieties were well calculated to make me doubtful
of what my luck was to be. Hence, when we had gone over the whole
half-acre, and found that we had gathered ninety quarts, I was entirely
satisfied, and more so from noticing, on a survey of the bed, that there
was no perceptible diminution of the quantity remaining on the vines.
The fruit was of very superior size, for perhaps few cultivators could
have bestowed more labor in keeping the ground in order; and this labor
of our own hands was nearly all that the experiment had cost. As I was
anxious to follow the directions given by my market friend, we had a
great time that evening in assorting the berries, putting them in three
lots,--the very largest in one, then the next best, and the smallest in
a third. They were placed in nice new baskets as assorted, so as to be
handled as little as possible. These were safely stowed in a
wheelbarrow, and before daybreak the next morning Fred wheeled them to
market. I was with him, of course. It was my first errand,--the first
fruits of my long anxiety,--my first appearance as a strawberry-girl.
The streets at that early hour were deserted and silent, for the busy
multitudes were not yet stirring. No pedestrians were about but those in
some way connected with the markets, whither all were repairing; nor
were any vehicles moving except the market carts and wagons coming in
from the adjacent country, most of them driven by women, thus early
forced from home to be at their daily stands. I confess this freedom
from curious public observation was not unpleasant to me. Somehow I had
felt no compunction, no pride, at bearing through the streets, even at
noonday, the symbol of my calling as a sewing-girl, in the shape of an
unsightly bundle; but here, notwithstanding long reflection had
familiarized me with what my new duties would necessarily be, yet when I
came to the performance of them I felt no ambition to be publicly
recognized as a strawberry-girl. My mother, who had been up to see us
off, had covered each basket with a cloth, so that really it was
impossible for a stranger, seeing the load I had in charge, to know
whether it was work for the tailor or fruit for the market-house. I
cannot account for this weakness,--why I, who had been so strong and
undismayed on occasions really trying, should have been so affected on
one that afforded so much reason for exultation. I have sometimes blamed
my sister as the cause of this unusual nervousness. She, too, was up to
aid us in getting under way, for all hearts were in the
enterprise,--and knowing that I had a nervous apprehension of our
neighbors, especially of Mrs. Tetchy, and that I would prefer going
without any of them seeing me, she cried out suddenly, as we came
through the gate,--
"Is that Mrs. Tetchy coming after you?"
It was the veriest trifle in the world; but I was so full of what I had
in hand, and so really desirous of avoiding observation in that quarter,
that Jane's pleasantry had an unusual effect upon me. I did feel a
little ashamed at any of the Tetchys watching my movements; yet somehow,
as we went along to market, the feeling insensibly expanded so as to
apply to all others. But I have long since mastered it.
The widow was already at her accustomed stand, and had what appeared to
me a plentiful supply of strawberries. But I saw directly, for I now had
a quick and practised eye, that they were far inferior to mine. All
sizes were mixed up together, just as they came from the vines. When I
uncovered my best baskets and handed them to her, she was loud in
expressions of admiration at their superior excellence. No customers
were about, so in a few moments I had handed over my whole stock of
ninety quarts, and Fred and I were about departing homeward, when the
widow's first customer for the day came up to the stand. We had a
natural curiosity to see what would be the result, so moved back a few
paces, but were still near enough to see and hear whatever might occur.
The customer was a young man of probably three or four and twenty,
dressed so genteelly as particularly to attract my attention, yet, while
a model of outward neatness, with not a sign of fashionable glare about
him. I think it probable that his really handsome face, and the pleasant
smile that played around his mouth as he approached us, had something to
do in establishing him thus suddenly in my favor, apart from my
anticipating him as my first customer. He glanced a moment at the
strawberries, then turned and looked at me so intently, though not at
all impertinently, that I felt myself abashed and blushing. All this,
however, was the sensation of but a single moment. Immediately turning
again to the widow, and courteously touching his hat as he spoke to
her,--a civility which was in perfect keeping with his whole
demeanor,--his eye fell on my choicest berries. He seemed struck with
their superiority, and was so generous in his commendation of them,
that, as I heard it all, I turned my face away, as I felt the blood
rushing up from my heart and covering my cheeks with deepening crimson.
I did not wish him to suspect that he was buying _my_ berries. He
inquired of the widow where this beautiful fruit was raised, and by whom
I was in terror lest she should point to me, and was moving out of
hearing of the reply, when she answered that they were raised just below
the city, by a young lady.
"You surprise me, Madam. By a young lady? They are the finest I have
ever seen," he replied. "She must understand her business. I am greatly
interested in such pursuits, and would like to know more about her. Will
you have her fruit all through the season?"
I had turned away before he had made these remarks, and did not observe
whether the idea could have occurred to him of connecting me with the
lady culturist; but Fred told me, on our way home, that he directed his
attention strongly to me, and, as my face was averted, surveyed me with
a long and scrutinizing gaze, then raising the cover of quite a large
basket which he held in his hand, caused it to be filled with my finest
berries.
I did not hear the price, as the strangest thoughts that ever occupied
my mind came thronging in with impetuous vehemence. I was unaccountably
confused. Here was I with my first little venture surprised by the
presence of my first customer, and he a gentleman whose whole outward
demeanor seemed to me the embodiment of whatever might be considered
agreeable in the other sex. I shrank with instinctive diffidence from
having my little secret unfolded in such a presence. It may have been
mortification of spirit,--I will not, cannot say,--but somehow I was
terrified lest _he_ should know that I was a strawberry-girl.
But Fred was subject to no such useless compunctions, and watched and
listened with eager attention. His quick ear had caught the price,--for
the purchaser had not ascertained it until after his basket had been
filled.
"Did you hear that?" said Fred, in a voice intended for a whisper, but
which in my confusion I was sure the young gentleman had overheard.
"Half a dollar a quart!"
I moved away instantly toward home, never daring to look back at either
the widow or her customer, lest my eyes should encounter those of the
latter, as I was sure he must have heard my brother's exclamation, and
been satisfied that it was I who raised the berries he had so much
admired. It was unaccountable to me that I should be so foolish. But no
one, unable to correctly analyze his feelings, can at the moment account
for the strange impulses which an unlooked-for emergency will send
hurrying through the heart. Time and a succession of events may
sometimes unlock the mystery of their origin. I am sure that it required
both to solve the problem for me.
Fred trundled his barrow at my side as we returned to breakfast. He was
full of exultation at our success, and even began to count up what our
profits would be. We had made so capital a beginning that he was sure
they must be very large. Alas! he knew little of the world except its
sanguine hopes. He reasoned only from the beginning, without knowing the
stumbling-blocks that might be encountered before we reached the end.
But then what would this world be, if hope were banished from it? Still,
though fairly estimating all these contingent disappointments, my
spirits were buoyant as his own. That was apparently a short walk to our
distant home, for there was abundant conversation and debate to beguile
the way. My mother stood in the doorway as we approached the house; but
when Fred told her the story of the young gentleman, how he looked and
behaved,--I somehow felt unable to do it,--with the crowning incident of
the great basketful of berries he had purchased at half a dollar a
quart, and that without even asking the price, I think I never knew my
dear mother to be so delighted at any event in the quiet history of our
little family. Ah, what a happy breakfast it was that we sat down to
that morning! I could not repeat the exultations expressed on all hands
over my success. My mother seemed so supremely gratified at the prospect
now opening before us, that her delight was a bountiful reward for me.
She had never manifested so much cheerfulness since we lost our father.
Fred insisted on continuing his calculations of what our profits would
be; but though he brought out great results on paper, for he was
remarkably expert at figures, yet, even with my constitutional
enthusiasm, I refused to be unduly set up by his extravagant
anticipations. It seemed with him to be as great a happiness to merely
calculate the profit as it was for me to produce it.
I know that all these are very trifling matters, at least to others, and
that, if the gentler hearts are kind enough to become interested in
them, there must be many others that will pass them by as uneventful and
dull. Yet the life that all these are living is made up of incidents,
which, if they would but reflect upon them, are not more exciting. But
they were great affairs to us. They developed the prominent fact, that
it was possible for a woman, when favorably situated, to become a
successful fruit-grower, and that a new door could be opened through
which she might be emancipated from perpetual bondage to the needle,
without violating the conventional proprieties of the sex. This was the
problem which my imperfect labors were solving for us. All aspirants may
not be required to pass through the same experience, while some may be
compelled to encounter even a greater diversity than I did.
Thus far my first day's picking had been very encouraging. As in a great
city there are a thousand daily wants, so thousands are kept continually
employed in ministering to them. When the supply of strawberries begins,
the public require it to be maintained. The picking of the day is mostly
eaten up before bedtime, and hence the grower must gather daily
reinforcements from his vines to meet the public demand. The fruit
ripens with a continuous rapidity. The hot sun of a cloudless day brings
it to perfection with wonderful uniformity, while the wet and cloudy one
retards and injures it. Besides, the price is gradually declining as
neighboring growers crowd their products into market; hence it is
imperative to pick daily while the price is up, so as to secure the
highest return for the longest period. Perfect ripeness no one waits
for. The consumer never secures it, because his impatient appetite
stimulates the grower to furnish him with fruit which, though tinged
with redness, is far from being ripe. Color alone, not flavor, is the
guide; for the public taste is not yet sufficiently educated to detect
the great difference between an unripe and a ripe strawberry.
I soon learned these peculiarities of my new calling, and hence picked
over my beds with daily regularity. As color, not ripeness, was all the
public cared for, we carried much immature fruit to market,--though no
doubt we lost in bulk by thus picking before it had grown to its full
size. The second day we took forty quarts to the widow, and received for
the preceding day's consignment nearly forty dollars. It was less than
Fred had figured up, but we were, all of us, satisfied. Our care in
assorting the fruit had secured for it the highest market price, while
the widow was so lavish in her commendation, as well as so full of
encouragement to me for what I was doing, that the satisfaction of
dealing with her was almost equal to that which attended my success:
indeed, I think her kind words went far towards securing it. One day she
spoke to me of the young gentleman, my first customer, who, she reminded
me, had praised my fruit so highly and bought so liberally. I am sure my
cheeks colored as she recalled a circumstance which I had by no means
forgotten; but as there were many buyers round her stand, I knew she
would not notice it. Though I went at daybreak every morning with my
brother to deliver fruit, yet I never met him there but once again.
Still, she said, he was as punctual as myself, only coming a little
later, buying my berries, always asking if they were the same young
lady's fruit, and when told that they were, taking them without
inquiring the price. But I never understood why she related these little
incidents to me, unless it was to show me how quickly my works had
become popular. It may be that her heart melted with sympathetic
tenderness toward me; for I had told her all about my condition as a
sewing-girl, my hopes, my efforts, my longing to be able to lay down the
needle for something that would be less exacting while equally
remunerative. She, too, had been a drudge of the slop-shops, and thus
understanding all that I might feel, or suffer, or hope for, it was
natural that she should enter with interest into my novel enterprise.
Thus my mother and I continued to gather fruit from our little half-acre
during the whole of the strawberry-season. I was away from the factory
for many afternoons to assist in picking and assorting. I think no miser
could have counted his gold more lovingly than we did our gains, when
summing up, day by day, the yield of our miniature plantation. There
were several afternoons, at the height of the season, when the product
ran up surprisingly. There seemed to be a general competition among the
berries as to which should ripen first. They enlarged in size, putting
on a crimson corpulency into which the sunbeams infused a sweetened
juiciness which is the peculiar charm of the perfectly ripened fruit.
This was in the hottest days of June, which, in spite of an ample
sun-bonnet, tanned me into a perfect brunette. After the general
ripening, the quantity picked began to decline, and the remainder was of
smaller size. The price, fell off; but then, while the fruit was
abundant, we had secured the highest rates, so that the declining prices
affected only a diminishing quantity. Hitherto we had treated ourselves
to none of the best fruit, but had reserved for home consumption only
such as we considered unfit for market. As in former times, we thought
ourselves too poor now to eat even our own strawberries. Every quart
that we should thus consume would be an average loss of thirty cents. I
was sure they were not costing us anything like that, and it seemed a
positive hardship to be thus kept to such rigorous self-denial. But we
held out until the price declined as the quality depreciated, and then,
when we knew the sacrifice was trifling, there was a unanimous and
abundant indulgence in this delicious fruit. I think it tasted even
sweeter than when it was selling at half a dollar. My mother was sure
that not half the sugar was required to make it palatable, and all
agreed that in point of flavor it was unexceptionable. I feel certain
that none of _that_ crop was lost. Thus our domestic strawberry-season
began market only when that of the outer world had passed away; but
though late in entering upon it, it may be set down as certain that none
enjoyed it with a higher relish than ourselves.
As Fred was wonderfully exact in keeping accounts, he was ready to tell
us, the moment our last picking had been made, how much our half-acre
had produced. I sometimes thought it a sort of useless trouble, however,
this keeping an account, because every one of the family seemed to have
the figures by heart from the very day when the first picking occurred.
They were talked over so often at table, that we all remembered what
they were, nor was there any difficulty in our carrying forward the
sum-total from day to day, as the amount ran up after each successive
picking. What had we to remember that was half so interesting as this?
But as what the sum-total would be was gradually becoming manifest, Fred
was compelled to come down from the magnificent calculations as to
profit with which he had set out. He had insisted that we were to get
the same high prices all through the season, not reflecting that we had
many competitors, nor that, though our early pickings were really very
superior, yet there must necessarily be many that would be quite
otherwise. Still, his persistency had had its effect on all of us; nor
was it until we got halfway down the column of our daily receipts, and
noticed the perceptibly diminishing figures, that we were thoroughly
undeceived. As I had never been over-sanguine, I was not greatly
disappointed. My study had been to ascertain whether it was possible for
a family of inexperienced sewing-women to produce strawberries for
market at a fair profit, the whole labor to be performed by themselves.
If our first effort were tolerably successful, I was sure we could do
better the next time, as successful horticulturists are not born, but
made. Well, the result was, that we had produced a little over four
hundred quarts, of which the widow had sold enough to bring us a hundred
and thirty dollars, after deducting her commission. It was not much, I
confess, but it was a beginning that fully satisfied me. Our half-acre
had never before yielded so large a profit.