who practice both the systems I allude to. One is the discomforted,
doubting dairyman with but too little to show for his hard work; and the
other has a good bank account, or a plethoric purse, and his sharpest
look is given in search of more good cows, whose owners don’t know any
more than to sell them. There is not a whine about them, nor do they go
into a decline because another half-cent could not be squeezed out of
the cheese market. Their talk is, content with “well done,” and their
cure for hard times is, “more milk.”
The most manifest loss, as it appears to one taking note of merely
dollars and cents, in the prosecution of any special pursuit comes to
light in the dairy business, from this the chief neglected opportunity
of the dairymen to gain more wealth.
There are other neglected opportunities,—minor matters in
themselves—that if improved would make the goal of the enterprising
dairymen easier of attainment, and are, therefore, desirable adjuncts in
accomplishing his purposes, and they seem to be concomitants of
measurably high success. One is in not properly testing the real
profit-earning capacity of each cow, and weeding out those that are not
only not profitable but are actually, year after year, eating into the
profits derived from other, and it may be not so good appearing cows.
Profitable performance not only at the pail, but at the churn and the
cheese-vat, should alone give a cow respite from coming, in her youth,
to the butcher’s block.
Another, is that there is a woeful benightedness in providing stables
suitable to milk in, and easy and healthful for the cows to live in, as
they should be allowed to do for more than half of the hours of the
year. The advanced dairymen who have plank floors daily littered,
cleaned, and cleansed, drops in the floor, and clean walks in the rear
of the cows, well-ventilated, but warm, non-freezing stables, would be
amazed and disgusted to enter what I greatly fear are a majority of the
stables of the State, in which the cows are thrust to endure a painful
and filthy existence. When purity of product has a great influence in
gauging the price, and the health of consumers is at stake, this neglect
in providing better and more cleanly stabling is one of the crying ills
of our dairy system. I am glad to know that the supervision of the
health officials of Milwaukee extends to the stables of the cows that
produce the milk that is allowed to be sold in that city. It would be
well if it was made the imperative duty of the health officials of every
town to forcibly establish the blessings of a decent civilization in the
cow stables of more than half of the farmers of Wisconsin. I am moved to
thus speak because of what I have seen—and smelled. I will not quarrel
with a man who claims the unalienable right to rot, as a hermit, but I
deny his right to freely make and sell to others, unwholesome food, into
which he has mingled filth and the germs of disease and death. It is
shameful to neglect to provide good and healthful stables for
food-producing dairy stock—one that calls for vengeance on a
criminality.
Another neglected opportunity of the dairymen to increase the number of
head their farms might subsist, and thus increase their profits,
especially those who occupy our highest priced lands, is in their
declining to adopt the system of soiling. I do not know of a highly
successful dairyman in the State who has not adopted it, in part, at
least—enough to save his cows when famine is in sight. Neither do I
believe there is one who would not be more successful if he should
practice it more. The arrived-at goal of the select few who keep as many
cows as they have acres of land, has been reached by and through the
soiling process; and approximate successes like theirs must be achieved
by traveling the same route. There are those who are ensmalling their
pastures, and at the same time, increasing their herds, because the
lands taken from the pasture and devoted to soiling crops produce more
than the old herds can consume. The wandering cow feeds herself, in
fact, from what might be the choicest product of her own milk, tramps
the life out of much more, and tosses her head in disdain at much that
if cut and properly fed in the stall, she would eat with a relish; so
that it may be safely said that two, and some practical men say three,
cows might be well-fed through soiling, on the same land that one is by
the system of exclusive pasturing.
Another, it may well be called the lost opportunity—that grows out of
the neglected ones alluded to, is that the cows are not kept in good
milking condition more of the time of the year. The men who seize and
utilize the few opportunities I have mentioned very soon learn that they
have an almost perpetual fount of wealth; and that they can not afford
to dry it up, and wait for spring. Putting in more time for the cow to
produce, inevitably convinces them of the fact that the larger part of
the cow’s earnings are made when dairy products are high in price; and
they are dull, indeed, if they do not see in that a revelation that more
winter dairying would pay. I am aware that the flippant answer made by
those disinclined to adopt soiling and winter dairying, is, that they
involve employment of more manual labor on a given number of acres, and
that reliable farm labor is hard to get and troublesome to keep. This is
the first superficial pretext of nine-tenths of those advanced enough to
ever give these subjects a serious thought. Nevertheless, the practice
of these innovations are essential in the higher grade of farming; and
that practice, instead of being an ill, is a blessing to the farm, to
the farmer, to his older children, and to the hired laborer; for it
gives all of them steady and profitable employment, while the present
system requires the far greater proportion of labor in the spring and
summer months, and furnishes less to do in winter for the hired man and
the grown-up boys and girls. They thus lounge, often, in debasing
idleness, or are early weaned from the farm, and go away, never to
return to partake of its real, invigorating life, its independence, and
its joys. The dairy, with the accompaniment of soiling and more
production of dairy products in the winter, would make the farm more
like a factory, with every wheel in motion almost the entire year. The
home and the family of the dairy farmer should be as large as the
capacity of the man and the woman at the helm; and as steady employment
as that which must be given to the store or shop would go a long way in
developing and increasing the capacity of the whole force to manage
more. Giving regular employment to good men on the farm makes it far
easier to get and to keep them; and it retains a more brawny set of men,
who are otherwise enticed to the factories and railways that give steady
work, and so have the pick of the intelligent and most reliable ones. It
is an accomplishment in a farmer and his wife to know how to get, and
how to keep good, faithful hired men. I know of those who are slaves,
because they don’t know how. Many of them ascribe it to the men, when
they themselves are principally at fault. There is a mortal dread of
“tramps,” especially among the more ignorant farmers. But I aver that
the common system of almost exclusive grain farming that crowds most of
the labor of the year into a few spring and summer months, is a direct
cause of much of the tramp evil of which so many farmers complain. It
manufactures the tramps who rove from necessity, and even drives out
their own children to swell the ranks of those in search of a job. On
the other hand, a large increase of milk-stock kept on the farm
necessitates the retention of most of the manual force of the summer
months. Not how to dispense with hired labor or the labor of his
children, but how to profitably employ and elevate it, and make it
inviting, rather than abhorrent and slavish, is the problem the
progressive farmer should study to solve. The manufacturer counts upon
additional gains through the addition of well-employed laborers. The
farmer could do the same if he used more educated brains and a little
less over-taxed muscle in his business. The bulk of every fortune
steadily acquired, consists of the success of its possessor in getting,
honestly or dishonestly, a profit from the labors of others. This must
be so, so long as it is an axiom in political economy that labor is the
basis of all wealth. The owner of the soil can succeed in winning more
than a pro rata proportion, just in the ratio of his ability to make his
brains help the work of his hands.
I know of whole sections, and even contiguous miles square, on which the
system of farming prevails that I have condemned—the hired man is
unknown, save only for short periods of the year—the children gone to
the cities, to the factories, the railroads, or to the West—the land
denuded of stock, almost, as well as of the rightful ones to care for
it; and half-impoverished farms, half farmed by the old folks, or
continuously cropped on shares by more indigent neighbors. Possessions
that by nature are as fair as ever the sun shone upon, that do not, and
can not now pay five per cent interest on $25 per acre; when well
managed dairy farms in the same county pay more than that per cent on a
basis of $100 per acre. In view of these patent facts that stare us in
the face, is it any wonder that some of us feel we have a loud call to
dispense the pure dairy gospel to these perishing sinners who thus
neglect their grand opportunities.
In some one of the first sentences of this paper I alluded to the
influence of good and profitable farming in improving the condition and
standing of the farmer, as a man among men. This, after all, is the
crowning objective point, or should be, of all those who make the most
of the opportunities the great mass neglect. If with all his getting a
man does not get some real wisdom, some development in stalwart
morality, and a higher cultivation of the mind, it needs no Solomon or
Bible to tell the on-lookers that he is a comparative failure; and it
ought to be apparent to himself. The legitimate profits of a higher
grade of farming ought to be expended to elevate the farmer, his wife,
his children, and all the attendants whom he directs. Part of them
should appear in the form of better and more comfortable houses and
barns, finer stock, better horses, better roads and school-houses, a
larger list of newspapers and periodicals, better libraries and better
housekeeping, and more cheery houses in which intelligence and music are
not strangers. It is as important that a man should spend his earnings
aright, as that he should use his energies and talents to earn. It is
not a manly element in a man whose chief forte is that he can hold all
he can get. A clam can do that, and not suffer much, either, in a
comparison of brains with the groveling getter of mere wealth. The high
behest to earn much, by and through grand opportunities to labor and
direct labor, blossoms into blessing in its best sense only when the
earnings are spent to increase the intelligence, add to the comforts,
and aid men to discharge their private and public duties more nobly than
it is possible for a man to do with an income that simply gives him
bread.
Because the earnings of the farm are not more frequently spent in thus
installing a section of paradise on the farm, is the real cause of the
stampede therefrom of many of the smart ones who deem the struggle for
elevation there a hopeless one, and, catching an inspiration from the
shriek of civilization that announces each swiftly flying train, they
turn their backs on what have been to them farm dungeons, and mingle
with the surging throng in quest of a better condition. That they are
often mistaken and baffled in taking such a route, does not deter a new
crowd from going. They fly from what they dread, as much as they are
inspired by what they hope to win. These things ought not so to be; and
a wise improvement of the many neglected opportunities on the farm would
go far to rectify the ills they fly from, but from which yet few escape.
Say what we will about all its defects, its uninviting toil, and low
wages, agriculture disenthralled of its ignorance is the basis rock of
our hope; and he is a slanderer of the noblest occupation who raises the
veil to expose its defects and servility for any other purpose than to
help make greener its verdure, and brighten its bloom.
* * * * *
REMEMBER _that $2.00 pays for_ THE PRAIRIE FARMER _from this
date to January 1, 1885; For $2.00 you get it for one year and a
copy of_ THE PRAIRIE FARMER COUNTY MAP OF THE UNITED STATES,
FREE! _This is the most liberal offer ever made by any first-class
weekly agricultural paper in this country._
* * * * *
[Illustration]
HORTICULTURAL
Horticulturists, Write for Your Paper.
THE FARMER’S GARDEN.
BY J. M. SMITH.
A few years ago it was necessary for me to call upon a gentleman upon
some business. After my business was completed and I was about to leave,
I started toward the garden. He called to me saying, “Do not go
there—you can not get through the garden.” I arrived at the border and
stopped. He had evidently complied with one of the necessities of a good
garden, viz., plenty of manure, for it is simply impossible for weeds to
grow at the rate, or attain the size they had there, except upon very
rich land.
Rabbits would have been perfectly secure from foxes, and foxes from
dogs, in that immense and tangled growth of weeds.
The owner of that garden was one the best and most enterprising farmers
in the State. He had at one time been president of his State
agricultural society.
Many years ago I visited a friend living upon a 160 acre farm. It was
one of the most beautiful section farms that I have ever seen either in
this or any other State. While there I was speaking of a splendid crop
of melons that were then just ripening. He said, in rather a fretful
manner, “I do not see why my melons do not grow. I know the land is
rich, and there are no weeds in the hills. I hoed them all up only a few
days ago.” I walked out to his garden with him, and there were his poor,
puny vines struggling for life. As he said, there were no weeds in the
hills, a little circle of perhaps two or three feet in diameter had been
hoed out, and the balance of the land was covered with a dense growth of
weeds from two to six feet in height.
He had a most industrious and refined lady for a wife, and young
children growing up around him, and, as before stated, a most excellent
as well as valuable farm. Yet not one early pea or one ear of sweet
corn; not even early potatoes or a tomato, or, in fact, anything that by
any stretch of the imagination could be called a garden bed—yet the man
has been to college.
Another gentleman said in my presence, “In the spring, at the proper
time, I purchase cabbage seed and sow them; when it is time to set them
out I buy the plants and plant them; when it is time for cabbages they
are _there_, and so I always have cabbages.”
He is among the very best farmers in the State. He teaches others how to
farm, and does it well. The man who attacks him in a convention needs a
strong cause and a ready tongue, or he will be apt to consider his own
cause a very poor one before he gets through with it. This man has been
president of a State dairymen’s association.
One case more: Another gentleman, who is far above the average farmer,
and who has also been president of a State dairymen’s association, as
well as a public teacher, as he was going out to attend a farmers’
meeting or convention, where he was expected to be a teacher, happened
to look out over the place where his garden should have been, and saw an
immense growth of weeds going to seed. He said to his sons and hired
men, “Boys, bring out a team and hitch to the mower, and mow off the
garden; I can not conscientiously go and teach others how to farm with
that crop of weeds going to seed in my own garden.” The work was done.
“There,” said he, “I can now go and teach without a troubled conscience.
There are no weeds going to seed in my garden.”
I have strong hopes of this gentleman. He has a conscience. He attends
church; and although I consider him intellectually as far superior to
most of the preachers of the day, yet if the right man should become his
pastor, I fully believe that there is salvation for him even in this
life.
As to the other three the case seems at least to be a very doubtful one.
One can not but be reminded of the anecdote of the three little boys who
had commenced studying the catechism. Some one asked them if they had
learned any of it? “Oh, yes,” says one of them, “I am past
justification.” A second one says, “I am past sanctification.” The third
jumps up and says, “I have beat them all; I am clear past redemption.”
It is much to be feared that the three first described gentlemen are
all of them clear past redemption.
Let us turn for a moment to a farmer’s garden of another order. He has a
beautiful as well as an excellent farm. Around his house are quite a
number of handsome trees that stood there when the Indians were the
proprietors of the soil. The present owner has added such other trees as
he thought would add both to its beauty and comfort. The house is a
number of rods from the highway, and in the summer is one of the most
beautiful rural homes that I ever saw. Back of, and near by, the house
is his garden. It is so arranged that most of its crops can be
cultivated with a horse and cultivator. A nice asparagus bed furnishes
not only himself and family an abundant supply of this the first as well
as one of the best of the products of the outdoor garden, but also a
quantity to sell. His strawberry beds, containing only a few of the
standard varieties and a very few plants of some of the most promising
of the new ones, were models of both beauty and economy in their
arrangement for cultivating both well and cheaply. The same was true of
his peas, beans, sweet corn, cabbages, potatoes, etc. His raspberries,
both red and black-caps, furnished an abundant supply for the family
during their season. The same is true of his blackberries and grapes.
A short distance from these well cared-for necessaries and luxuries of
his farm is a moderate-sized and well cared-for orchard. I have no doubt
he can, if he wishes, have some of the products of his orchard or
garden, or both, upon his table every day of the year.
The gentleman who owns and controls this farm has never been president
of any State dairymen’s association, nor has he ever been sent to
Congress. But, gentlemen, he is one of the most thoroughly wide awake
and enterprising, as well as one of the very best farmers that Wisconsin
can boast of; and we have some good ones.
The question very naturally arises, Why is it that so many, not only of
our common, but of our very best farmers, fail to have anything that can
be called even a poor garden? It is not because they do not like its
products.
Time and again have men who were good farmers, when looking over my
grounds, said: “Well, it is too bad that I have not had a decent garden;
but I am determined to have one after this, and will neglect it no
longer.” I have no recollection of any farmer’s family among my
acquaintances who would not enjoy its products. Perhaps the best reason,
and often the only one, that can be given for so many almost entire
failures in this respect is the want of time. It is a well-known fact
that almost all of our farmers are short of the help they really need to
keep their farms in good condition. Something is sure to be neglected,
and, in three cases out of four, if not in nine out of ten, the poor
garden is the first thing that is left to care for itself, which it
generally does by growing a tremendous crop of weeds.
It is perfectly useless to attempt to have a respectable garden, unless
arrangements are made in the spring for its planting and cultivation
with the same care that arrangements are made for the care of the wheat,
oats, corn, or potato crop, or the care of the dairy.
When these arrangements are made and faithfully carried into execution
during the season, then shall we see good gardens upon our farms; and
not only that, but, as a rule, they will be the best paying pieces of
land upon the farm, not only in the comfort they give to the family, but
in the profit as well.
I do not propose at this time to give you a treatise upon gardening. A
few hints that may be of value to those who wish to make some
improvement, is all that will be attempted.
In the first place, select, if you can have a choice, a piece of light,
loamy soil, with a little sand, if you can get it. A heavy clay soil
will raise as large a crop as the one above mentioned, but it is not as
early, and is much more expensive and different to work. In laying out a
garden on a farm take plenty of room, and arrange the goods in such a
manner that the greatest possible amount of work can be performed with
the horse.
The selection of seeds is to me the most annoying and perplexing job of
the season. The circulars come pouring in, and are filled with the names
of new varieties of this and that and the other, each better than any
other of its kind, and so very desirable that you are apt to think that
you must have a few of the seeds just to try them.
Of course, there is occasionally some improvement made in vegetables and
plants but it is safe to say that in nineteen cases out of twenty the
farmer or the amateur who invests in some new varieties of seeds or
plants upon the recommendation of his circular, loses both money and
time by the operation. If I should record my own experience in this line
during the past twenty-five years, the result would show that I have
drawn an occasional prize and a marvelous number of blanks, and some of
them very annoying, as well as expensive ones.
I will give you a list of such seeds as have proven themselves to be
about the best that I can find, after years of experience:
Asparagus—Conover’s Colossal.
Beets—Early Egyptian for first early; Early Blood Turnip for
fall and winter.
Carrots—Early Scarlet-Horn.
Parsnips—Common Dutch Hollow-crown.
Ruta Bagas—American purple top, imp.
Turnips—Flat Dutch.
Bush Beans—German Dwarf Black Wax.
Pole do.—Lima.
Cucumbers—White Spine.
Cabbage—First Early Jersey Wakefield; Fall and Winter, Prem.
Flat Dutch.
Celery—Golden Dwarf.
Muskmelons—Early White, Japan, and Hackensack.
Watermelons—Mountain Sweet.
Cauliflower—Early Dwarf, Eurfart.
Peas—Extra early Dan O’Rourke, American Wonder, Champion of
England.
Summer Squash—Round Scallop, American Turban, Hubbard.
Lettuce—Curled Simpson and Boston Market.
Pepper—Large Bell and Butternosed.
Tomato—Trophy and Acme.
Sweet Corn—Early Minn., Crosby’s Early, Stowell’s Evergreen.
These if planted at same time will give proper succession.
Radishes—French Breakfast, and Covent Garden.
When we come to the small fruits I will recommend as follows:
Strawberries—Wilson’s Albany seedling for main crop. If a few very
large ones are wanted try the No. 30, and the Sharpless. With me they
are both worthless except for the purpose of producing a few very large
berries. To lengthen out the season the Kentucky is the best of any that
I know of. Downer’s Prolific is also a fair bearer, of excellent
quality. I am constantly trying those of the new varieties that seem to
me most likely to do well, but almost invariably lose both time and
money. I have some twelve or fifteen varieties of these now on trial,
but presume the result with nearly or quite all, will be the same as
with hundreds of others I have had during the last twenty-five years,
viz., after two or three years of trouble and expense plow them under
for manure.
For raspberries, the Doolittle and the Mammoth Cluster have done nicely
among the black-caps. The Gregg is also highly recommended by those who
have tried it. I have not tried it a sufficient time to tell what it
will do with me. The Philadelphia is a standard among the reds, and
justly so. After two or three years’ trial I think very highly of the
Cuthbert, although with me it is not as hardy as the Philadelphia. In
fact, they all do better for being covered in winter.
Blackberries. For this portion of the State I know of nothing that I
believe would give better satisfaction than Stone’s Hardy.
Among currants, the Red and White Dutch are still the standards.