A few years since, I repeated in your journal a new way that had been told me of growing asparagus. It was based on the idea that asparagus yearly made new roots from its annual stalk, and a new crown. That the roots from these stalks year by year, fed higher up, needing "fresh fields and pastures new." That therefore, if you top-dressed the bed with a thick layer of loamy enrichment you furnished the necessary food for these roots. The bed would thus year by year, shape itself into an oval mound. In the trial which I named I think the plantation thus swelling to a little hill was thoroughly salted to keep down weeds, and well dosed with the kitchen slop from a hotel. I should think the trouble with such a bed would be lack of moisture in a dry time. Perhaps the hotel slop remedied that trouble.

An accidental trial of the method, and some study of the plant, led me to think the new way worthy of further test. Some other of your correspondents at the time endorsed the idea as within the range of their observation. The method calls for so little care beyond that annual dressing that it should incite thorough trial | by some who have charge of our agricultural colleges and experimental gardens.

That the gardener has not yet proved this method and reported its trial, is not a very heavy fault. Those who garden for profit, and those who cultivate solely for the table, can spare neither time nor space for experiments. Their business is with the dollars or the dish. To them and the future of the plants there are other sure ways for. better crops and large growths. From the varieties we have, big or little cuttings hang on the question of manure. Asparagus demands rich and heavy food, and plenty of drink. No matter in what way we pile on the manure it will take all that it can push its stalks up through. The trouble is we do not half satiate its craving. It is a perfect glutton of enrichment. We starve the plant and then talk about our asparagus bed running out. It is our feeding which runs out. It gives us return for all food within reach of its roots; when that is used up of course it dwindles. Asparagus no more runs out than an oak or an elm, but then it cannot send its roots on so wide a forage. It is severely cropped, often choked with weeds which steal its scanty food; and yet, helped by the rest of a winter, its melting snows, and the spring rains, in spite of our stingy feeding, it does pretty well.

Try it, with a big, deep, full covering of well rotted and fat plant food and see how its stout succulent stalks will delight your purse and palate.