The Library of Work and Play: Gardening and Farming. — Inside the Classic

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In Category - Farming
Shaw, Ellen Eddy, 1874-1960 Project Gutenberg 2004 Not confirmed
Gardening -- Juvenile literature Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Edition facts

Words 80,881
Reading time 352 min
Text sections 10

The catalog record for The Library of Work and Play: Gardening and Farming. — Inside the Classic provides practical reading context through 80,881 words, 5 hr 52 min estimated reading time, and 10 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 13.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Gardening -- Juvenile literature,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Ellen Eddy Shaw's 1911 book blends a fictional garden club story with practical farming lessons, using a mentor figure called The Chief to teach soil science, plant care, and money-making projects through hands-on experiments and exhibits.
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Read the Text

II. The Boys' Garden Difficulties

III. The Girls' Secret

IV. Garden Experiments Performed Indoors

V. The Work Shop End of the Garden

VI. What the Girls Made Winter Evenings

VII. Improving the School Grounds

VIII. Myron's Strawberry Bed

IX. Jack's All-Round Garden

X. Albert and Jay's Drainage Problem

XI. George's Cabbage Troubles

XII. Peter, Potatoes and Profit

XIII. Philip's Backyard

XIV. The Corn Contest

XV. The Girls' Secret Work

XVI. More About the Girls' Work

XVII. The Girls' Winter Work

XVIII. The Grand Wind-Up--Girls vs. Boys

PART II.--THE CHIEF'S GARDEN TALKS

VI. Garden Operations

IX. Vegetable Culture

XI. The Wild-Flower Garden

XII. Landscape Gardening

XIII. How Boys and Girls Can Make Money from Their Gardens

Dee's Garden Was a "Lovesome Thing" _Frontispiece_

The Way The Chief Taught His Boys to Handle Tools

Jay's Tile Drain Converted a Swamp into a Garden

Philip's Backyard Made Beautiful by Annuals and Quick-growing Vines

Constant Cultivation of the Soil Saved George's Cabbages

Jack's Rake Handle as a Measuring Stick

Albert Sowing Large Seeds Singly

Elizabeth Sowing Small Seed from the Package

Myron Transplanting His Long-rooted Strawberry Plants

Katharine Transplanting Her Flowers by a Method of Lifting

PART I--THE GARDEN CLUB

The door opened. A gust of wind and rain literally swept five boys, wet and breathless, into the room. The man at the big oak table in front of a huge open fire looked up, smiled, and said, "Off with your duds, boys! Bar the door securely, Jay, for it's a wild night. Throw a fresh log on the fire, Albert. And all line up."

For a few moments the big cheerful room seemed full of wriggling, twisting boys as great coats were pulled off and hung up carefully on pegs at the far end of the room. It was a rule here at The Chief's home that things should always be shipshape. Then the "line up" came. This was a little ceremony the boys always went through, having dropped into it quite of their own accord. They formed a line in front of the open fire with backs to it and faces toward the man. Then they solemnly saluted in military style. At this The Chief arose, saluted, and by a wave of the hand assigned each boy to his place at the table.

This little group of boys had formed itself naturally into a club. It met with The Chief every Saturday night. He was really no chief, this big, boy-loving man who had come to spend a while in this little country village, to rest and to write. The boys had named him The Chief because, as Albert said, "He could lead any tribe and tame any savage." At this Albert always laughed for he himself had been called a savage so many times he almost believed he was one.

The boys dropped into their places. Jay, or the "Little Chief" as the boys called him, sat opposite the Big Chief at the end of the table and right in front of the fire. He was slim and tall and light of foot. He could run faster, throw farther, and play better than any other boy in the village. He always led, he never bullied, he played fair, so the other boys always followed.

Albert, Jay's brother, big and heavy and as full of mischief as he could hold, took his place at The Chief's right hand. Albert called this his place of honour although knowing full well that he was there so The Chief might have him within reach. Next to Albert came George, frank-faced and bashful, sturdy and loyal. Opposite him red-headed, stubby Peter sat always on the edge of his chair, always with a bit of a smile on his face, never talking much, always agreeing good-naturedly. Beside Peter and at The Chief's left was Jack, who wriggled constantly like a young eel.

After the boys were seated and quiet, The Chief pushed back his work, a plan of his summer's garden, leaned back in his chair and said, "I think first we had better take up your reports." Then he pointed at Jay who began: "Well, when Albert and I asked father for a piece of the garden for our very own to work exactly as we pleased this summer, with no questions asked or answered, he laughed. He said that Albert wouldn't stick to it a day."

"I will, just the same," shouted out Albert quite red in the face.

"Just keep out of this, Savage, until I get through."

The man laid a restraining hand on Albert's arm and Jay continued: "But I begged father, and told him we'd always worked for him, and he might let us try for ourselves. Besides, I told him we'd not shirk his work. So finally he said we each could have the ten hills in the corn patch for the experiment, just as you wished. And then--"

"And then," broke in Albert, unable longer to contain himself, "what do you think he gave us? It's just no use trying, for he gave us an old piece of land below the barn. It's a regular old swamp; why, water stands there the whole spring long, and it takes half the summer to dry it out. Then it gets hard as a brick. Now what is the use of trying on that?"

"We'll take it just the same, and so we told father," continued Jay. "We have just got to make that old land do something."

The Chief nodded and pointed to George for his report. "Same here," began George. "My father wouldn't listen at all at the first; then he said I might have the hills of corn. He threw in also an old side slope which he thinks is too poor for any use." George sank back in his chair in a quite dejected manner.

It was now Jack's turn. "You see," he began at his lightning rate, "we haven't much land anyway, seeing as we live in the village. I can have the backyard, such as it is, but that's precious little use. It's never been used for a garden, and it's full of rock. One of our neighbours says I may have a piece of her corn patch for my corn, if I'll take care of hers, too. Of course I took her offer. Just had to."

Peter took his turn last, as usual. "We have no place at our home; too much lawn, and mother will not have it cut up. Grandfather said I might have any place I wanted in his garden if I'd really care for it myself."

"My!" said Albert, "what a snap! Your grandfather has the best garden land around here. You'll win The Chief's five dollars for the best garden; you just can't help yourself. I'd like to punch you, Peter, for having such luck."

Peter smiled a little more broadly. "Fin sorry the garden's so good, but I can't help it."

"It's all right, Peter," began The Chief; "after all, boys, I believe we are not having such bad luck. Cheer up! We are going to surprise those fathers of yours, and have a good time out of it, too. Jay and Albert have a big problem of draining; George has simply got to put that sandy slope in shape; it looks as if Jack would have to fill in for his garden; and Peter--well, some of you may beat Peter yet."

At this last Peter smiled, Jack skilfully tumbled him off his chair and Albert gave a war whoop. The Chief called his meeting to order again.

"And now, boys, I shall see you each one separately about your garden problems. Remember, not a word at home, for we are going to surprise the people. And at our next regular meeting, and at all others this winter we shall have reports on the manner in which you are going to get at your work and the way in which you will beat conditions. In this way we can keep track of each other's work. We must make our plans, too, on paper, which will help out. We have catalogues to write for, garden stakes to make, and no end of things will come up. But first you boys ought to understand a bit more than you do about the soil. It is a storehouse of good things. Knowledge of the soil is a key to this storehouse.

"We can roughly divide the soil into three classes and call these sand, clay, and humus. The ideal soil has all three of these elements in it. Sandy soil is made up, as the name itself really tells, of broken up rock masses. One can tell this sort of soil by its lightness and the ease with which a mass of it drops apart. By the word lightness one does not mean colour or weight, but looseness. A clay soil may be told by its stickiness; its power to form lumps or masses; its tendency to crack and bake under the hot sun. Such a soil is called heavy. Humus soil is made up largely of decayed animal and vegetable matter. Its presence is told by a dark, rich colour.

"In trying to improve the soil we are dealing with, we have first to think of its physical, and second, its chemical condition.

"The great needs of the soil are air and water. Just think of all soils as made up of many particles; let us say like a lot of marbles, one placed upon another. Each given mass of particles has a given air space between every particle. Again, if a marble is dipped in water a film of water remains on it a short time. Let us think of the particles as always having a film of water on them. Then, as roots and root-hairs of plants strike down among these they find the two necessities, air and water.

"Now sand is very loose and so lets the water drain down through it too rapidly. How shall we improve a sandy soil? Just add something to bind the loose sand particles together. Humus is good for this binding purpose.

"Clay absorbs much water. Then its particles squeeze tightly together and so air is shut out. Add sand to clay soils, to lighten them.

"Humus soil is very rich in nitrogen. This brings us to the chemical side of soils. There are many chemicals in soils which act as foods to plants, but only three are the essentials. If these cannot be unlocked from the soil, or are lacking, they must be supplied. These plant foods are nitrogen, potash, and phosphorus.

"The chief source of nitrogen is manure; of potash, nitrate or sulphate of potash, and wood ashes; of phosphorus, bone ash or phosphates. How can you tell when one of these is lacking? Well, first it is well to know what each one does for a plant. Nitrogen makes fine, green, sturdy growth of leaf and stalk; phosphorus helps blossoming plants; while potash makes plump fruit. If foliage looks sickly then nitrogen is needed. If one wishes a good growth of leaves, as in lettuce, nitrogen is needed. If the fruit is small and poor, supply potash; while if the flower and stalk need better growth, add phosphorus.

"Be careful in adding nitrogen. Nitrogen is the plant food which is most easily lost out of the soil. Study the soil you are dealing with, supply if possible what it lacks, and try to unlock to your seedlings the goodness already in the garden soil."

The interesting talk ended.

"Couldn't we meet oftener than just Saturdays?" questioned Jack.

"We'll see; it all depends upon how much work there is. Possibly we may have to meet Fridays, too, later on, for you have no lessons that night. Anything more, boys, before the popcorn?"

"I'd like to know," asked Peter, "if my cousin Philip, who comes from the city to grandfather's to spend almost every Saturday and Sunday, may join us too. He wants to fix up his city backyard and doesn't know how to begin."

"Bring him along next Saturday. We'll be glad to have him, shan't we, boys?"

"Don't know," blurted out Albert, "it's our club."

"Keep quiet, Albert. Let him in as long as he behaves and works. Isn't that right?" asked Jay.

"Yes," answered George and Jack.

"Then, boys, we'll have Jack's report next week, as his problem is not so difficult. If Jay and Albert drop in some day from school they shall have a book which will help them, and George needs one, too."

At this point Albert dropped off his seat in mock alarm murmuring as he fell, "Worse, much worse than school!" George dropped a heavy book on top of him to add to his comfort.

The Chief went on as if nothing had happened. "Jack and Peter, shell and pop the corn, George and Jay, crack the nuts. And you, Albert, run to the cellar for the apples. Get good ones, young man."

"Why," questioned Albert, as he picked himself up, "why must poor Albert always do the hard work, while the other fellows stay by the warm fire?" No one answered him and he slowly marched off.

Soon the corn was popped, the nuts cracked and the big red apples on deck. And then it was a quiet room save for the snapping of a shell from a half-cracked nut, and the munching of the firm apples as the boys ate. The firelight played softly over the old room bringing out strongly the big oak table, the group of boys, the silent man, throwing far back into the shadows the old rush-bottomed chairs, the short-legged rockers and the pieces of furniture at all distant from the fire.

The clock struck nine. The boys reluctantly got up from the floor and struggled into their coats. Jay unbarred the door. The man held the light high above his head sending a stream of light after them, George astride his old farm horse ready for his three-mile ride, Jay and Albert trudging after him, and Jack and Peter hand in hand on a run toward the village.

"Good-night!" they shouted back at the man, "We'll be on time next Saturday night, seven sharp. Good-night!"

THE BOYS' GARDEN DIFFICULTIES

"It's fine to see you back, Myron," began The Chief, looking at a big, good looking fellow, who had dropped quietly into his place by George. "Are you here for all the time, now?"

"Yes," replied Myron, "I got tired of the town and am glad enough to be back again."

"We are just as glad as you are. Is Philip here for Sunday?"

Philip wriggled happily beside Peter and said nothing. For Peter had impressed Philip with the fact that he must keep quiet for it wasn't very much his club anyway.

"There is business up for discussion, and two applications," began The Chief.

"Applications!" broke in Albert. "May we have those first?"

"If you can't keep still," retorted Jay, "you'll get applications all right, but of quite another sort."

The Chief passed two letters to George. George stood up, swallowed hard, for he was a bashful lad, and began. "'Will the Junior Garden Club give suggestions and practical help for the improvement of the Oldfield Centre School Grounds?' Signed 'The Teacher.'"

"Crickey!" said Albert. "That's white in her! Expert advice! I guess we will!"

"What shall we do about this?" asked The Chief.

"We just ought to do it, I think," began Jack. "There surely is no other public-spirited club in this place."

"Just so," murmured Peter.

"We ought now to have a secretary for the club, and a chairman, too. I believe to-night is the time to vote for these officers," suggested The Chief. "Suppose Jack and Philip tear up slips of paper and pass them. Then Myron and George collect, and count the ballots. We should vote for chairman first."

"What does the chairman have to do?" asked Myron.

"A chairman always calls a meeting to order and presides," answered the man.

For a few minutes they were all very busy with paper and pencil. The results were given by Myron.

"Jay has all the votes for chairman. Albert has four for secretary, and so I suppose we'll have to have him."

Albert, nothing daunted, said, "I guess you will, but I write like a hen."

"That's right, you do," chimed in Jack to Albert's apparent annoyance.

"Now, Jack, call your meeting to order and let's have these matters voted on."

"Come to order all of you. What shall we do about this school-ground business?"

"I vote," began Myron.

"Stand on your feet," advised Jay.

"No, Myron," corrected The Chief, "move--not vote."

"I move, then, that we fix up those grounds."

"Who seconds this?" and Jay looked hard at George.

"I will," he responded.

"I'm not sure, now," appealed Jay to The Chief, "I'm not sure just how to go on."

"It's this way--it has been moved and seconded that this request be granted. All in favour say 'aye'; all contrary minded 'no'. It is a vote." Jay repeated this and the boys voted, Albert, as usual, voting "no," just for fun.

"Now, if George will read the second letter-----"

"I should think," Jack half questioned, "that the secretary should read things, now we have a secretary."

"So he should, hand those papers over, George."

George, delighted, gave place to Albert, who stumblingly read. "We girls wish to garden, too. We'd like to join your club. We can do just as good work as boys. Will you take us in?"

"Not much!" went on Alfred just as if he were still reading, "Girls in our club, no siree, girls never!"

"Girls might do something," began Myron.

"But," Jack broke in, "they'd after all spoil a boys' club. Why, it wouldn't be a boys' club then."

"They might have one of their own," suggested Peter.

"And do different things," continued Philip.

"I really don't see," Jay went on, "quite how we could have them. But, I suppose, they might meet with The Chief and we could help them sometimes."

"No," said Albert, "we don't wish to get mixed up with that sort of thing. They'd run the whole club in the end."

"That's right," agreed George.

This was put to vote properly and the girls were barred out.

"You must write them a letter, Albert," concluded Jay.

"Write a letter! A letter to those girls! Never!"

"Yes you will; you are the secretary and you have to, understand," said Jay. Poor Albert, not long before so proud of his office, looked as if he'd rather be whipped than be the secretary.

"The real business to-night is to hear reports so we can do a little experimenting and testing next week," suggested the man.

"All right, we'll have George's first."

"I shall, of course," began George, "plant my corn, Country Gentleman, in with father's. We have plenty of seed corn, so I shall not have to buy any. As far as my old slope goes I have to pick all the stone off. Then I am not sure just how to drain it, for the rains from another slope above wash it all the spring and summer. I shall then put some barnyard manure on and plant it all to corn. Of course, I must plough and harrow it, too."

"Now," said The Chief, "I guess we'd better stop right here and have a little talk, for George has brought up some problems for discussion. In the first place--let us consider the draining. All George has to consider is that he has to conduct or lead the water off his land."

"But," said George, "that is what seems to me difficult."

"Have you noticed how water takes definite courses down hills? That ought to give you some help."

"I see," cried Jack, "George could make gutters for the rain to travel along and so lead the water off his garden."

"Exactly, Jack has the idea. It is really a bit of engineering. Suppose George finds the highest point, the greatest slope, of his land. From this point a gutter or furrow should be dug so that the water is made to flow off and away from his land."

"How deep shall I dig the gutter?"

"Dig it about three feet deep and fill stones right into this gutter. Two feet of stone in the gutter is about right. Water falling on a stone mass drains off properly. It would sink into an earth mass. Bring a little sketch of this with you next week, George, showing where you are going to dig the drain. Now boys, how much fertilizer do you think ought to go on this poor land of George's?"

"I was going to put on two inches," said George.

Ellen Eddy Shaw's Gardening and Farming (1911) opens not with a textbook definition of soil but with five boys bursting into a room on a stormy night, greeted by a man they call The Chief. The narrative frames agricultural instruction within a club setting: the boys line up, salute, and take their places at a table before a fire. This fictional frame—complete with a secret girls' club, a strawberry-growing contest, and an autumn exhibit featuring canned berries passed off as fresh—occupies Part I, while Part II shifts to direct lectures on soil, plant food, seeds, and garden operations. The catalog subject "Gardening -- Juvenile literature" accurately describes the work, but the excerpts reveal that the book is as much about social organization and competition as it is about horticulture.

The Chief as Pedagogical Device

The Chief is not a farmer or a teacher by profession but a "big, boy-loving man who had come to spend a while in this little country village, to rest and to write." The boys name him Chief because "He could lead any tribe." This framing allows Shaw to embed practical lessons within a narrative of mentorship. The club meetings follow a ritual: removing wet coats, hanging them on pegs, lining up, saluting, and being assigned seats. The Chief's authority is earned, not institutional. He teaches by demonstration—showing how to handle tools, conducting soil inoculation experiments, and guiding the boys to keep diaries with tables and improvement sections. The excerpts show that the book's instructional content is delivered through this character, making the learning social and experiential rather than abstract.

Evidence of Hands-On Science

The excerpts contain specific, verifiable examples of scientific method applied to gardening. At the exhibit, Albert and Jay present an experiment in soil inoculation: they serve two spoonfuls of beans—one inoculated, one not—and ask guests to vote on which are better. The inoculated beans win. Myron preserves strawberries by canning them in October, then serves strawberry ice cream at the exhibit, prompting Dee's sarcastic question about cold storage. Myron's reply—"I walked to this house. A man let me in. He tied an apron about this waist. We actually canned these same berries"—shows that the book teaches preservation as a practical skill. The boys also create collections of garden pests and weed pests, draw garden plans to scale, and use pamphlets from Washington and their state experiment station. These details ground the fiction in real agricultural extension practices of the early 1900s.

Gender Roles and the Girls' Secret Work

Although the catalog subject does not mention gender, the excerpts reveal a parallel girls' club. The dedication reads "to the real boys of this real club and to the girls who are just as good as boys." Part I includes chapters titled "The Girls' Secret," "What the Girls Made Winter Evenings," "The Girls' Secret Work," and "More About the Girls' Work." The illustrations list shows Katharine transplanting flowers and Elizabeth sowing small seed. At the exhibit, Dee—a girl—challenges Myron about the strawberries, and later turns her back on him. The book thus acknowledges girls as participants, though the narrative focus remains on the boys. The girls' work appears to involve flower gardening and handcraft, while the boys tackle drainage, cabbage pests, and corn contests. The excerpts do not reveal whether the girls receive equivalent instruction in Part II's garden talks, but the structure suggests a gendered division of labor within the club.

Readers approaching this book should note that its instructional content is embedded in a fictional club narrative. The practical advice on soil, seeds, and plant care in Part II can be read independently, but the earlier chapters provide context for how these techniques were taught to children in 1911. The book's value lies less in its botanical accuracy than in its depiction of a community-based, hands-on approach to agricultural education—one that relied on a charismatic mentor, friendly competition, and public exhibits to motivate young learners.

Reading about the garden club’s careful ledger of seeds and profits, I felt that same earnest, hopeful practicality that must have filled those old agricultural manuals. It reminded me, oddly, of a little volume I once stumbled upon, Fur Farming for Profit, with Especial Reference to Skunk Raising — Text and Context, where the smell of the enterprise never quite dampens the honest arithmetic of a small dream.

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