New Englanders are such a wandering people, and move from home so easily when they think they see a possible advantage in change of residence, that it will be difficult to persuade them that it is not necessarily climate or soil which makes one part of the country preferable to another. The stubborn soil and cold climate of New England seem to be unfavorable to profitable cultivation of the earth, and young men who would like to get their living by farming emigrate to more favored lands. Those who prefer grain or stock raising go West; cotton and sugar attract some South; while New Jersey, Maryland, and Delaware offer immense inducements to the market gardener and fruit culturist.

The demand for fruit and vegetables has increased so rapidly in the last ten years that every available acre near the great cities has been in demand, and men have learned that the hitherto neglected sandy pine barrens of the three States above-mentioned are the best kind of land for market gardening. The sandy soil is easy of cultivation, warms readily, and is responsive to manure. Every month the horticultural magazines give almost fabulous accounts of the bushels, baskets, and pounds of fruit grown to the acre, and almost convince the reader that he only is truly happy who has a good bit of New Jersey soil to cultivate, and a family of growing children to help him take care of the crops and gather the fruit.

But even the seductive stories of the profits which attend upon good market gardening fall a little when compared to the incomes which have been and may be derived from the vineyards and peach orchards, which occupy favored places near the lakes or along the borders of the rivers of the Middle States. It is not strange that the repeated and verified statements of profits attract the men who have worn out a life in toiling among our boulders and gravel, and that fathers lend some of their hard-won earnings to their sons to go and reap in the new harvest fields. If six or eight hundred dollars per acre are to reward those who have the enterprise to go away from home, the wonder really is that any remain to till our own lands.

But we who live in New England and make shoes and ships, sell cloth and leather, must live too, and must, and want to eat fruit and early vegetables; and although we are very glad that our relations should grow rich by gardening, we do not like to pay them a fair price for theii crops and add the cost of transportation besides. We still believe, with the Protectionist, that the nearer the producer and consumer live to each other, the better for both.

I believe I can show, by a few facts and a little reasoning, that there is no need of New England's looking beyond her own borders for anything which the soil and climate can give, unless it may be peaches; but certainly all the small fruits and garden crops may be produced as early and cheaply in Massachusetts as in any other of the Northern States.

As I propose to consider the profits of market gardening, it will be best to state at first that the principal element of success, as shown by increasing profits, is the control of the temperature with which plants are to be surrounded in their infancy. Of course it should be admitted that no man ought to begin this kind of work who does not love it for its own sake, as well as for the money it will bring. No occupation demands more attention and hard work; and no one will succeed in it who is unwilling to give his whole time, thought, and energy to it.

The market gardener's peculiar profit, as distinguished from those which any farmer may hope for, are derived from his extra early and late crops. Of course I do not mean to say that the middle or summer crops are unprofitable, but they have to compete with the supplies which farmers, from far and near, may pour upon the market. To grow early or late fruit or vegetables requires some previous education ; an investment of capital in hot-beds, green - houses, tools, manure, and other appliances which are requisite for producing crops out of season. To use the materials, after they are produced, successfully, is the test of the skill of the gardener, and it is here that we find the most remarkable differences in men's success or failures; and, at at the same time, this is the most interesting part of the business. It gives occupation when all other out-of-door work is suspended, and opens a very wide field for individual enterprise and progress. The successful man must be a careful observer of the weather; must notice and remember the little advantages which plants derive, particularly when young, from variations in food and temperature and extra care, and must be quick to take advantage of every new discovery and invention which relates to his occupation.

Early crops have the advantage that they do not compel their grower and vendor to be an absolute slave to the markets; there are but few competitors, and no one is compelled to spend all his night getting to market lest he shall be too late for morn-ing customers. The earliest crops may be prepared and sold with as much deliberation as any other kind of merchandise.

From the earliest crops, if economy has been observed in their production, and every advantage taken of the weather and good cultivation, profits may be realized which fully equal those derived for any other kind of gardening or farming. It is in this direction that Massachusetts farmers and gardeners may compete with any other men occupied in the same way; but not all men are equally successful - in fact, but comparatively few succeed in the best sense of that word, even when they have invested all the money that their business seems to require. In order to understand the differences between the possibilities and realities of market gardening, I must first describe the common method of preparing and producing early crops.

While describing, discussing, and perhaps condemning the ordinary methods by which market gardeners raise their early crops, I would not have any one suppose that I undervalue the results to which our market gardeners have attained; but they are small when compared to what might be expected if men would only avail themselves of their opportunities.

The market gardener provides himself with a quantity of glazed sashes, six feet long by three feet wide; these sashes are laid on the ordinary plank, hot-bed frame, well known to every reader; the frame rising about a foot from the surface of the ground.

At the proper time to begin winter forcing, a cellar is excavated beneath the sashes as deep as experience has shown to be best; this cellar is filled with at least three feet of solid fresh horse manure, which is overlaid with about six inches of fine loam. Soon after the bed % made the manure begins to heat or ferment, and gives out a great amount of heat, which warms the superincumbent earth and the interior of the frame.

To preserve all the heat which is generated, the outside of the frame is banked with fresh manure, and the sashes at night and in dark weather are covered with mats or shutters; whenever a cold spell threatens, the manure on the outside is replaced by a fresh supply, and additional mats laid over the glass.

As soon as the heat has moderated a little, the seed is sown or young plants pricked out in the earth of the hot-bed, where, stimulated by the bottom heat, they are expected, with the aid of air and water, to grow to mature plants.

Of course it is very difficult to control or reduce the generating heat; the only method is to let air in by raising the sashes. As the gardener can not get into the frame to judge of its constant heat by the senses, and can only get slight assistance from the thermometer, the adjustment of the temperature becomes the test of his Skill. Too much heat will draw and burn the plants; too little will damp them off.

Besides the extreme difficulty of managing heat, is the inconvenience of getting at the beds to transplant and weed, and the impossibility of doing either of these things in cloudy and cold weather. At such times, however important it is to overhaul or reset the beds, nothing can be done lest the beds cool off too much. Cloudy days are the best for transplanting, as the plants suffer least from the check at such times, but the necessity of maintaining heat leaves the operator no choice.

When one crop, as lettuce, has been taken from the winter hot-bed, all the labor of preparation must be repeated, as the heat - the one absolutely important element - is exhausted. Spring hot-beds fare better in this respect; the heat of the sun will replace the waning strength of the manure, and the lettuce can be followed by radishes, cucumbers, tomato plants, etc. In spite of all this labor, anxiety, and chance, winter-forcing is often very profitable, but certainly precarious. It is not strange, then, that market gardeners, who know all the risks, should look longingly at the coast of Virginia, the Carolinas, and even Florida, as the very promised land for winter-forcing for the Northern market. In these favored regions the spring sun can perfect far more than manure can even promise; but there are difficulties in the way of growing early crops at the South for Northern consumption : they are of so perishable a nature that long transportation may ruin them, and the producer who lives too far from market to give his personal attention at least occasionally to his sales, will hardly rival the gardener who can carry his own crops to the consumer.

Hot-bed culture in some form, then, will continue to be the source of all early crops for city use. The question now presents itself, do market gardeners avail themselves of the best methods for producing their crops ? If they do, it would seem to prove Nature to be capricious, and to show that some plants are willing to thrive under circumstances very unfavorable to all other species; for if florists, and those who grow fruits for early markets, are unable to attain satisfactory results by using manure-generated heat, but can raise flowers and fruit at will by fire heat, may it not then be reasonably supposed that market gardeners can advantageously substitute one for the other.

[TO be continued].