“Hog Marsh” is the uncesthetic
name of a decidedly moist stretch
of country along the Pittsburgh road,
between Ada and Forest, writes a
New Castle, Pa., correspondent of
The Indianapolis Journal. The soil
is black and rich, so as to require but
little fertilization and still less irriga
tion is necessary. The ground is re
markably good for “garden sass,”
and a farmer who owned considerable
of it planted 90 acres of it in potatoes
early this year. Interest in the elec
tion, however, and his more pressing
agricultural duties prevented him
from gathering the potatoes early,
and, o bserving that the autumn was
mild and frosts scarce, he continued
postponing the harvesting of his po
tato crop, confident that the thick,
pasty soil would protect the “mur
phies” from injury, at least till he
shoald have lime to gather them in.
A cold night last week induced some
tramps to kindle a fire in the woods
near the swamp, and, as usual, they
neglected to put it out when they
said good by. The fire spread, and
ultimately reached some inflammable
underground formation in which the
muck burns like peat or coal. The 90
acre potato patch was invaded by the
flames, and about 12 acres were
thoroughly roasted, above and below
I ground.
On the following day the farmers'
; attention was attracted by an unusual
i assemblage in his fields, and on inves
tigation found that his visiters were
digging his potatoes and eating them.
Wondering that they °‘-Ould be eat
ing potatoes raw, he joined the party,
and discovered that the vegetables
were baked as nicely as the best cook
could do it The tramps who, when
building the fire, “builded wiser than
they knew,” have returned to Hog
marsh.
Juliet's Poison.’
St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
