Last autumn I accepted an invitation to visit a peach orchard. The proprietor had tried an experiment which was so successful that he was pleased to have his fruit-loving friends examine and admire it too. Some five or six years ago he took a piece of new land recently cleared of trees, planted three acres with peach trees. Said piece was nearly surrounded with woods or trees, with a southeastern exposure, and the soil a light sandy loam with a portion of clay intermixed one or two feet below the surface. Although Long Island is a large and rather valuable moraine cast up by that immense glacier that covered New England in periods long past, we find occasional patches of clay scattered amidst the strata of sand and gravel of which our island is composed. Our friend plowed and tilled his new land as best he could among the stumps, raising crops of vegetables while the trees were small, and above all, not allowing a weed to grow. His instruction to his men was to destroy every weed they saw at any time they saw it, and the purslane - they must put it in their pocket and throw it over the fence. And the trees were the most beautiful and thrifty we had ever seen.

He had cut back a part of every year's growth, manured it moderately with the addition of phosphates and ashes lightly every year, I think he said, and they had grown from eighteen inches to two feet this year, although bearing full crops this year and last. A few were showing the appearance of the yellows, but several of these bore full and finer fruit, ripening earlier and coloring finer than others. He had spent about two weeks in thinning the fruit when small, so that no tree should overbear; the fruit was of even size - little inferior fruit to be seen. He was a novice in peach-growing, and was much interested in selecting the most profitable sorts when they were purchased. The results may be interesting to others. The early peaches were not profitable; some rotted sadly, were of small size, and brought small prices, too. The Mountain Rose, Crawford, early and late, and the Barnard, a yellow peach, and rather late, were very satisfactory. But none were so beautiful and good, that we saw, as the Old-mixon free; large, rich color, luscious, they filled every requisite of a good peach, and were ripening, when we were there, in all their glory.

Later kinds than the Crawfords were not profitable; so many do not ripen up unless we have a fine warm season on Long Island. Ward's Late was not valuable to raise for market. Susquehanna is large and very fine, but not enough of them. Yellow peaches at present sell better than white of same size. The sales in 1881 from three acres amounted to $950, or near that. The present year (1882) he would not realize so much; the price was less. The sheltered position, protecting from the severe cold winds in winter, and the virgin soil, united with the best of care, were the secrets of success, and the question is, who will or can do likewise and enjoy so great a reward?