. The Saturday evening post. andwell like em for it. Down along the ridges, between thestanding rows of corn, men crawl on theirhands and knees, unburying small, glisten-ing potatoes. No machinery is used man who uses a trowel handles itgingerly. The best tools here are strong,sensitive fingers, with brains at the otherend of them, that can do the work withoutharming a single potato or breaking a singleskin. Almost as soon as they are broughtinto the sunshine the new potatoes arecarried away to the shelter of potato is precious. Fresh from theearth, with their new skin
. The Saturday evening post. andwell like em for it. Down along the ridges, between thestanding rows of corn, men crawl on theirhands and knees, unburying small, glisten-ing potatoes. No machinery is used man who uses a trowel handles itgingerly. The best tools here are strong,sensitive fingers, with brains at the otherend of them, that can do the work withoutharming a single potato or breaking a singleskin. Almost as soon as they are broughtinto the sunshine the new potatoes arecarried away to the shelter of potato is precious. Fresh from theearth, with their new skins shining, full ofthe moisture of artesian water, there is notable in all the land where one of these littlefellows would not crowd off the good, big,solid potatoes of last year. By this timeâit is now middle Marchâfifty or sixty very energetic city men haveappeared in the Florida potato are buyers, spokesmen for the thou-sands of folks up North who will fall liketumblebugs at the first sight of a shop sign. Ji roostooh Potatoes Nature-tricking farmers whether the cornever goes into the tassel or whether thepeas bear full pods. They are not corn andpea raisers, these farmers, but potato ex-perts; and the peas and the corn in manycases will be only a ruse to trick the gods ofNature, the gods of the seasons and thegods of chemistry, and all other gods thatcan either help or hinder a poor, tempera-mental potato. When the corn stands about six incheshigh, in thin lines of very light green thatbrighten the heavy, dark-green lines of thepotato plants and the broad strips of dead-black earth, then is the time to take thenew potatoes out of their beds. We inthe North and the West have for weeksbeen dallying along at table with potatoesthat have lain in cellars for months. Theyare good potatoes, to be sure; good enoughto make a hungry Russian depose a soviet,for a potato properly cellared will keep fortwo years. But we pampered folks in luckyAmerica miss, perhaps, in thes
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