Watercress is in constant demand the year round in the markets of all large cities, so it is a salable crop which should especially appeal to the commuter class of farmers, as it must be freshly gathered to be at its best, and naturally cannot be shipped long distances to market, which is perhaps the principal reason for its being such a profitable crop. In France and England, watercress farms are quite numerous, especially in the vicinity of Paris and London; but in this country it is only just beginning to be cultivated to any great extent, the principal market supply being furnished by Italians who take short journeys into the country and gather it from the ponds and streams where it grows wild. Under such circumstances it is not surprising that the leaves of poisonous water plants are often found in bunches offered for sale in the public markets. We have supplied our egg customers and one hotel with cress for four years, and never received less than five cents a bunch—usually ten cents—and from November to March from twelve to fifteen cents for a good-sized bunch.

Like a good many of the side lines which have brought grist to our mill, it developed from an apparent accident. There was a large wild bed in the stream which ran through the lower meadows, from which we gathered cress during the spring and summer. Chancing down a wagon-road one day in January, we were astonished to see lots of fresh green sprigs growing under the meagre shelter of a low log bridge which crossed the brook. We accepted the hint, and determined to protect enough of the brook the following year to supply us with fresh salad through the winter. Some time in October, brush was piled up for a distance of about six feet on each side of the stream. In November, when the nights commenced to be really cold, we made some frames out of thin cedar poles, interlaced them with strong cedar branches, and then placed them over the stream, with the ends resting on the brush, which elevated them about nine inches above the cress. Though primitive, the arrangement proved beyond doubt that forcing watercress was practicable.

During that winter we often put a little cress around the poultry which was being shipped to private customers, and so many requests came for a regular supply that we concluded it would pay to increase the beds. But as the stream was some distance from the house, and accessible to the cows when they were in the lower pasture, we resolved to utilize the escape from the spring-house, which was never failing. It had up to that time been carried off by a tile-drain under the side lawn. Operations were commenced by digging a ditch three feet wide, one foot deep. At first it was only made fifty feet long; subsequently it was increased to one hundred feet. As the ground was heavy clay, we carted clean sand from a bank at the other end of the farm, and covered the bottom of the ditch to the depth of three inches to form a seed-bed, and also to militate the usual creepy-crawly brook creatures.

At every five feet of the ditch, sluices were inserted—just box-like arrangements, made out of rough boards, one of which could be raised and lowered at will, so that the amount of water in each five-foot section would be under control. When the ditch and sluices were completed, a trap divided through the middle was put in front of the escape from the spring-house to divide the flow of water, and one length of the tile at each end of the trap carried it to the opposite sides of the ditch to insure even distribution.

It is a special stone building, twelve feet square, used for milk and butter. The floor is about three feet below the ground, and a gutter, fourteen inches wide and twelve inches deep, runs all round the four sides, and is kept continually full of cold running water from a spring situated about three feet to the right of the house. The water is divided by a stone as it enters the house, and goes to the right or left in the gutter until it reaches the escape at the opposite side of the house. The floor and gutter are made of stone, so the place is beautifully clean and very like an old-country dairy.

After the beds had been thoroughly saturated with water, all but the merest dribble was shut off. Roots from the meadow brook were taken up, washed carefully in fresh water to remove the before-mentioned creepy creatures, and then set out in the sand at the bottom of the ditch. Field stones were placed on the roots of each plant to prevent their being dislodged by the action of the water before they had had time to establish an anchorage. After two weeks the whole supply of water was allowed to run into the ditch, and it covered the bottom to a depth of five inches.

Fully one-half the plants died and had to be replanted, but the following year the entire ditch was a solid mass of cress. The leaves were much larger, and the flavour much better, than the cress had ever been in its wild state. Of course, if the best price was to be obtained in the winter, our desire was to force the crop at that season. We built sides fifteen inches deep to the ditch, using rough slabs, which only cost us fifty cents a load from the sawmill in the woods. Then we used the ordinary cold-frame sash over the top.

After the beds are once established, their cultivation consists in cutting, and nothing else; and, as the cutting is necessary for the market supply, it is really truer to call it harvesting than cultivating; though neglecting to cut the beds regularly as soon as they are four inches high will ruin a bed very rapidly, as the plants grow thick-stemmed and sprawly.

We find that old beds as a rule are not as profitable as young ones, so we make a practice of renewing three or four sections every year. The method is to withhold water in July until the plants die, then pull them up, after which the bottom of the ditch is dug over to let in the air and sweeten the ground. After a lapse of two or three days, it is raked down level again, and a few loads of fresh sand spread over the bottom, saturated with water as before, though, instead of old roots, we now use slips three inches long, taken from the ends of old branching plants. They root very quickly, and make better plants than the old roots.

Twice we have started an entirely new stock from the seed, and think the result quite worthy of the extra trouble. The seed is very light and small, so it is best to start it in shallow pans filled with sand, which must, of course, be kept saturated with water, but not submerged.

May or June is the best season for this planting, for then plants are large enough to transplant into beds in July, and will be well established before the forcing season.

For a small home supply through the winter, half-barrels or wash-tubs may be used. Half fill them with sandy soil and stand in a light, warm cellar. Set slips four inches apart in August, and keep perpetually moist. If you have no means of getting slips, buy seed from any good seedsman. Start in shallow pans in June.

I saw an item in a paper, not long ago, which estimated that an acre of watercress, at its present market prices, would bring from four to five hundred dollars a year.

Watercress should be carefully prepared for market. Gather and bunch at once, to prevent unnecessary handling. Cut the stalks evenly after the bunches are tied up, and pack in light crates lined with hay or moss. Place bunches closely together in rows, with hay or moss between layers. Ship on late trains if they have to go by express, to avoid exposure to the heat of the sun during transit. When small quantities are going to private customers, pack in strawberry or grape boxes, as there is less likelihood of the cress heating and spoiling when packed in this way.