This country presents so vast an area, and is covered by so many degrees of latitude, that uniformity of agricultural experiences is absolutely impossible. Drought will prevail in one quarter, cracking the very earth into fissures, while in another the rainfall will be so excessive as to become ruinous to crops. The horticulturist whose fruits perish from lack of rain, proclaims his failure through the press, and lapses into discouragement. He who, in another section, loses his by a continuous deluge, finds his heart fail under the losses of a single disastrous season. But these varying results are annual experiences. Yet, if there be average failures, there are certainly average successes. Seed time and harvest can not utterly fail. The dis asters of one season have their compensations in the success of the next. It is not the results of any single year that determine the question of success, but the average of a term of years. No business pursued by man is uniformly profitable; and if so, why should horticulture be complained of for not accomplishing results which no other occupation has yet been able to secure? Merchandising has its ups and downs; stock and money are subjects of the most ruinous vibrations; agriculture has its vicissitudes of seasons.

But when merchandise has been a drug, and the bottom dropped out of the stock market, when has any calamity short of the earthquake destroyed the sturdy equilibrium of our diversified agriculture ? Its redeeming feature, in spite of occasional disappointment, lies in the certainty of its return. If they do not make us suddenly rich, neither do they permit the prudent man to become poor. Many times as much depends upon the man as upon the season.

The year now closing has had its usual share of agricultural vicissitudes, teaching many useful lessons. They have fallen most heavily on that class of horticulturists who have expected too much - the men who leave the counter or the desk for a country home. On the majority of these an unfriendly season produces discouragement not warranted by the circumstances of the case. Such season works no such depression on the minds of veteran farmers. They have encountered them before, and know that they must occasionally occur. The beginners pursue their new business with too much energy. They plant too largely, because ambitious to accomplish great things within a brief period. They undertake and perform too much hard work, such as their previous indoor habits do not fit them to undergo. Fatigue or lassitude succeeds, while continued exposure to a burning sun is sometimes followed by sickness. They persist in laboring in the fields in wet weather, thus also inviting disease. Some have gone into the country with feeble constitutions, intending to regain their strength by rural occupation. Many realize a complete recovery of health. But others overtask themselves by undertaking too much, and instead of advancing in strength, they find themselves declining.

Sickness will discourage, even though crops be generous. To such the lesson of the season must be moderation in the future.

Then a too comprehensive plan of operations is found to cost more money than was expected. Building improvements have been started which should have been deferred for years, unless the capital at command was abundant. The profits of the first year on a farm will not justify the building of a new house or the renovation of an old one. Moderation in expenditure not having been observed, they are found at the year's end to have absorbed all the working capital. Surprise is felt that crops produce less money than expenses. But too much has been expected, and too much expended. An unreasonable disappointment succeds. The real fault, however, is not with the farm, but with the owner's management, and the year has taught this lesson to more than one beginner.

But the older hands, in common with the beginners, have also had diversified experiences. The strawberry growers have learned some valuable lessons. One of these whose grounds I often pass, went into their cultivation on a grand scale, planting many acres. His theory was the simplest imaginable - if one acre would yield $300, what would twenty acres yield ? He forgot, however, to cipher up how much labor would be required to keep twenty acres in good condition, and made no provision for it. He expected his vines to grow and bear, but did not consider that the weeds and grass would be wanting to do the same thing. Harvest time came, with ten weeds to a single strawberry plant. Yet he picked great quantities of fruit; but it was so inferior in size and quality as to bring discouraging prices. He had grasped at too much, and failed of realizing the great profit which his paper calculations had promised. A neighbor, having only six acres in the small fruits, realized more clear gain than the twenty acres afforded; but he tolerated no weeds and but few runners. What he undertook he did thoroughly. His berries were of superior size, and sold readily at the highest price. It was quality, not quantity, that determined the question of profit.

From these two experiences the ambitious owner of the twenty acres learned a lesson which reversed his opinion of the strawberry culture. He became convinced that if the market had been glutted, it was with inferior fruit only, not with a superior article, and that five acres cultivated in the best manner would return more money than twenty of his slipshod acres. He forthwith turned under three fourths of them, put the remaining five into perfect condition, and now waits in confidence for the result. But the same lesson has this year been learned by many others. If strawberry growing has been temporarily overdone, it was by excessive quantities of worthless fruit. The good article very seldom fails to pay, while of the superior one there has never been an over-supply.

As confirmatory of the theory of devoting a large amount of labor to a small amount of land, I can add the remarkable experience of Mr. P. Barry, of Rochester, N. Y., as furnished me by himself. On the 14th of August, 1866, he planted the Wilson Albany on a plot of 230 by 115 feet, exact measurement, say five-eighths of an acre. The ground is a dry sandy and gravelly loam, and for two years had been seeded down with timothy. It was plowed 8 inches deep, and no manure was used. The plants were set 18 inches apart each way. The ground was kept well hoed, the runners being cut off. During the next winter the plants were protected by a thin covering of wheat straw. The next summer, 1867, about 500 quarts of berries were picked; but in 1868 the number of quarts reached the astonishing figure of 5,874, or at the rate of 9,400 per acre - within a trifle of 300 bushels. Mr. Barry says, "Our man who managed the ground says that he could get even larger results from our seedling Nicanor. He has it largely planted now." Also : "You will observe that the plants were set close together - 18 inches.