"Yes; these big shoots are long and smooth and straight, and the little
twiggy ones are all over sharp points."
"Then as there is too much wood there, which had we better cut out.
What should you do?"
"Cut out the scrubby little twigs, and nail up these nice long shoots."
"That's the way, Grant! Now you'll know more about pruning after this
than Shock has learned in two years. Look here, my lad; you've fallen
into everybody's mistake, as a matter of course. Those fine long shoots
will grow into big branches; those little twigs with the points, as you
call them, are fruit spurs, covered with blossom buds. If I cut them
out I should have no plums next year, but a bigger and a more barren
tree. No, my boy, I don't want to grow wood, but fruit. Look here."
I looked, and he cut out with clean, sharp strokes all those long shoots
but one, carefully leaving the wood and bark smooth, while to me it
seemed as if he were cutting half the tree away.
"You've left one, sir," I said.
"Yes, Grant, I've left one; and I'll show you why. Do you see this old
hard bough?"