the country, bring that beer into town to his own house, and for the use
of his family there? This has been asked of me. I cannot give a positive
answer without reading about _seven large volumes in quarto of taxing
laws_. The best way would be to _try it_; and, if any penalty, pay it by
_subscription_, if that would not come under the law of _conspiracy_!
However, I _think_, there can be no danger here. So monstrous a thing as
this can, surely, not exist. If there be such a law, it is daily violated;
for nothing is more common than for country gentlemen, who have a dislike
to die by poison, bringing their home-brewed beer to London.
110. Another correspondent recommends _parishes to make their own malt_.
But, surely, the landlords mean to get rid of the _malt and salt tax_!
Many dairies, I dare say, pay 50_l._ a year each in salt tax. How, then,
are they to contend against Irish butter and Dutch butter and cheese? And
as to the malt tax, it is a dreadful drain from the land. I have heard of
labourers, living "in _unkent places_," making their _own malt_, even now!
Nothing is so easy as to make your own malt, if you were permitted. You
soak the barley about three days (according to the state of the weather.)
and then you put it upon stones or bricks _and keep it turned_, till the
root _shoots out_; and then to know when to _stop_, and to put it to dry,
take up a corn (which you will find nearly transparent) and look through
the skin of it. You will see the _spear_, that is to say, the shoot that
would come out of the ground, pushing on towards the _point_ of the
barley-corn. It starts from the bottom, where the root comes out; and it
goes on towards the other end; and would, if _kept moist_, come out at
that other end when the root was about an inch long. So that, when you
have got the _root to start_, by soaking and turning in heap, the spear is
_on its way_. If you look in through the skin, you will see it; and now
observe; when the _point of the spear_ has got along as far as the
_middle of the barley-corn_, you should take your barley and _dry it_. How
easy would every family, and especially every farmer, do this, if it were
not for the punishment attached to it! The persons in the "unkent places"
before mentioned, dry the malt in their _oven_! But let us hope that the
labourer will soon be able to get malt without exposing himself to
punishment as a _violater of the law_.
KEEPING COWS.
111. As to the _use_ of _milk_ and of that which proceeds from milk, in a
family, very little need be said. At a certain age bread and milk are
_all_ that a child wants. At a later age they furnish one meal a day for
children. Milk is, at all seasons, good to _drink_. In the making of
puddings, and in the making of _bread_ too, how useful is it! Let any one
who has eaten none but baker's bread for a good while, taste bread
home-baked, mixed with milk instead of with water; and he will find what
the difference is. There is this only to be observed, that in _hot
weather_, bread mixed with milk will not _keep so long_ as that mixed with
water. It will of course turn _sour_ sooner.
112. Whether the milk of a cow be to be consumed by a cottage family in
the shape of milk, or whether it be to be made to yield butter, skim-milk,
and buttermilk, must depend on circumstances. A woman that has no child,
or only one, would, perhaps, find it best to make _some butter_ at any
rate. Besides, skim-milk and bread (the milk being boiled) is quite strong
food enough for any children's breakfast, even when they begin to go to
work; a fact which I state upon the most ample and satisfactory
experience, very seldom having ever had any other sort of breakfast myself
till I was more than ten years old, and I was in the fields at work full
four years before that. I will here mention that it gave me singular
pleasure to see a boy, just turned of _six_, helping his father to _reap_,
in Sussex, this last summer. He did little, to be sure; but it was
_something_. His father set him into the ridge at a great distance before
him; and when he came up to the place, he found a _sheaf_ cut; and, those
who know what it is to reap, know how pleasant it is to find now and then
a sheaf cut ready to their hand. It was no small thing to see a boy fit to
be trusted with so dangerous a thing as a reap-hook in his hands, at an
age when "young masters" have nursery-maids to cut their victuals for
them, and to see that they do not fall out of the window, tumble down
stairs, or run under carriage-wheels or horses' bellies. Was not this
father discharging his duty by this boy much better than he would have
been by sending him to a place called a _school_? The boy is in a school
here; and an excellent school too: the school of useful labour. I must
hear a great deal more than I ever have heard, to convince me, that
teaching children to _read_ tends so much to their happiness, their
independence of spirit, their manliness of character, as teaching them to
_reap_. The creature that is in _want_ must be a _slave_; and to be
habituated _to labour cheerfully_ is the only means of preventing
nineteen-twentieths of mankind from being in want. I have digressed here;
but observations of this sort can, in my opinion, never be too often
repeated; especially at a time when all sorts of mad projects are on foot,
for what is falsely called _educating_ the people, and when some would do
this by a _tax_ that would compel the single man to give part of his
earnings to teach the married man's children to read and write.
113. Before I quit the _uses_ to which milk may be put, let me mention,
that, as mere _drink_, it is, unless perhaps in case of heavy labour,
better, in my opinion, than any beer, however good. I have drinked little
else for the last five years, at any time of the day. Skim-milk I mean. If
you have not milk enough to wet up your bread with (for a bushel of flour
requires about 16 to 18 pints,) you make up the quantity with water, of
course; or, which is a very good way, with water that has been put,
boiling hot, upon _bran_, and then drained off. This takes the goodness
out of the bran to be sure; but _really good bread_ is a thing of so much
importance, that it always ought to be the very first object in domestic
economy.
114. The cases vary so much, that it is impossible to lay down rules for
the application of the produce of a cow, which rules shall fit all cases.
I content myself, therefore, with what has already been said on this
subject; and shall only make an observation on the _act of milking_,
before I come to the chief matter; namely, the _getting of the food for
the cow_. A cow should be milked _clean_. Not a drop, if it can be
avoided, should be left in the udder. It has been proved that the half
pint that comes out _last_ has _twelve times_, I think it is, as much
butter in it, as the half pint that comes out _first_. I tried the milk of
ten Alderney cows, and, as nearly as I, without being very nice about the
matter, could ascertain, I found the difference to be about what I have
stated. The udder would seem to be a sort of milk-pan in which the cream
is uppermost, and, of course, comes out last, seeing that the outlet is at
the bottom. But, besides this, if you do not milk clean, the cow will give
less and less milk, and will become dry much sooner than she ought. The
_cause_ of this I do not know, but experience has long established the
fact.
115. In providing food for a cow we must look, first, at the _sort of
cow_; seeing that a cow of one sort will certainly require more than twice
as much food as a cow of another sort. For a cottage, a cow of the
smallest sort common in England is, on every account, the best; and such a
cow will not require above 70 or 80 pounds of good moist food in the
twenty-four hours.
116. Now, how to raise this food on 40 rods of ground is what we want to
know. It frequently happens that a labourer has _more_ than 40 rods of
ground. It more frequently happens, that he has some _common_, some
_lane_, some little out-let or other, for a part of the year, at least. In
such cases he may make a different disposition of his ground; or may do
with less than the 40 rods. I am here, for simplicity's sake, to suppose,
that he have 40 rods of clear, unshaded land, besides what his house and
sheds stand upon; and that he have nothing further in the way of means to
keep his cow.
117. I suppose the 40 rods to be _clean_ and _unshaded_; for I am to
suppose, that when a man thinks of 5 quarts _of milk a day_, on an
average, all the year round, he will not suffer his ground to be
encumbered by apple-trees that give him only the means of treating his
children to fits of the belly-ache, or with currant and gooseberry bushes,
which, though their fruit do very well to _amuse_, really give nothing
worthy of the name of _food_, except to the blackbirds and thrushes. The
ground is to be _clear_ of trees; and, in the spring, we will suppose it
to be _clean_. Then, dig it up _deeply_, or, which is better, _trench_ it,
keeping, however, the top _spit_ of the soil _at the top_. Lay it in
_ridges_ in April or May about two feet apart, and made high and sharp.
When the weeds appear about three inches high, turn the ridges into the
furrows (_never moving the ground but in dry weather_,) and bury all the
weeds. Do this as often as the weeds get three inches high; and by the
fall, you will have really clean ground, and not poor ground.
118. There is the ground then, ready. About the 26th of August, but _not
earlier_, prepare a rod of your ground; and put some _manure_ in it (for
_some_ you must have,) and sow one half of it with Early York Cabbage
Seed, and the other half with Sugar-loaf Cabbage Seed, both of the _true_
sort, in little drills at 8 inches apart, and the seeds thin in the drill.
If the plants come up at two inches apart (and they should be thinned if
thicker,) you will have a plenty. As soon as fairly out of ground, hoe the
ground nicely, and pretty deeply, and again in a few days. When the plants
have six leaves, which will be very soon, dig up, make fine, and manure
another rod or two, and prick out the plants, 4000 of each in rows at
eight inches apart and three inches in the row. Hoe the ground between
them often, and they will grow fast and be _straight_ and strong. I
suppose that these beds for plants take 4 rods of your ground. Early in
November, or, as the weather may serve, a little earlier or later, lay
some manure (of which I shall say more hereafter) between the ridges, in
the other 36 rods, and turn the ridges over on this manure, and then
transplant your plants on the ridges at 15 inches apart. Here they will
stand the winter; and you must see that the slugs do not eat them. If any
plants fail, you have plenty in the bed where you prick them out; for your
36 rods will not require more than 4000 plants. If the winter be very
hard, and bad for plants, you cannot _cover_ 36 rods; but you may the
_bed_ where the rest of your plants are. A little litter, or straw, or
dead grass, or fern, laid along between the rows and the plants, not to
cover the leaves, will preserve them completely. When people complain of
_all_ their plants being "_cut off_," they have, in fact nothing to
_complain_ of but their own extreme carelessness. If I had a gardener who
complained of _all_ his plants being cut off, I should cut him off pretty
quickly. If those in the 36 rods fail, or fail in part, fill up their
places, later in the winter, by plants from the bed.
119. If you find the ground dry at the top during the winter, hoe it, and
particularly near the plants, and rout out all slugs and insects. And when
March comes, and the ground _is dry_, hoe deep and well, and earth the
plants up close to the lower leaves. As soon as the plants begin to
_grow_, dig the ground with a spade clean and well, and let the spade go
as near to the plants as you can without actually _displacing the plants_.
Give them another digging in a month; and, if weeds come in the
mean-while, _hoe_, and let not one live a week. Oh! "what a deal of
_work_!" Well! but it is for _yourself_, and, besides, it is not all to be
done in a day; and we shall by-and-by see what it is altogether.
120. By the first of June; I speak of the South of England, and there is
also some difference in seasons and soils; but, generally speaking, by the
first of June you will have _turned-in cabbages_, and soon you will have
the Early Yorks _solid_. And by the first of June you may get your cow,
one that is about to calve, or that has just calved, and at this time such
a cow as you will want will not, thank God, cost above five pounds.
121. I shall speak of the place to keep her in, and of the manure and
litter, by-and-by. At present I confine myself to her mere food. The 36
rods, if the cabbages all stood till they got _solid_, would give her food
for 200 days, at 80 pounds weight per day, which is more than she would
eat. But you must use some, at first, that are not solid; and, then, some
of them will split before you can use them. But you will have pigs to help
off with them, and to gnaw the heads of the stumps. Some of the
sugar-loaves may have been planted out in the spring; and thus these 36
rods will get you along to some time in September.
122. Now mind, in March, and again in April, sow more _Early Yorks_, and
get them to be fine stout plants, as you did those in the fall. Dig up the
ground and manure it, and, as fast as you cut cabbages, plant cabbages;
and in the same manner and with the same cultivation as before. Your last
planting will be about the middle of August, with _stout plants_, and
these will serve you into the month of November.
123. Now we have to provide from _December to May inclusive_; and that,
too, out of this same piece of ground. In November there must be, arrived
at perfection, 3000 turnip plants. These, _without the greens_, must
weigh, on an average, 5 pounds, and this, at 80 pounds a day, will keep
the cow 187 days; and there are but 182 days in these six months. The
greens will have helped put the latest cabbages to carry you through
November, and perhaps into December. But for these six months, you must
_depend_ on nothing but the Swedish turnips.
124. And now, how are these to be had _upon the same ground that bears_
the cabbages? That we are now going to see. When you plant out your
cabbages at the out-set, put first a row of Early Yorks, then a row of
Sugar-loaves, and so on throughout the piece. Of course, as you are to use
the Early Yorks first, you will cut every other row; and the Early Yorks
that you are to plant in summer will go into the intervals. By-and-by the
Sugar-loaves are cut away, and in their place will come Swedish turnips,
you digging and manuring the ground as in the case of the cabbages: and,
at last, you will find about 16 rods where you will have found it too
late, and _unnecessary_ besides, to plant any second crop of cabbages.
Here the Swedish turnips will stand in rows at two feet apart, (and always
a foot apart in the row,) and thus you will have three thousand turnips;
and if these do not weigh five pounds each on an average, the fault must
be in the _seed_ or in the management.
125. The Swedish turnips are raised in this manner. You will bear in mind
the _four rods_ of ground in which you have sowed and pricked out your
cabbage plants. The plants that will be left there will, in April, serve
you for _greens_, if you ever eat any, though bread and bacon are very
good without greens, and rather better than with. At any rate, the pig,
which has strong powers of digestion, will consume this herbage. In a part
of these four rods you will, in March and April, as before directed, have
sown and raised your Early Yorks for the summer planting. Now, in the
_last week of May_, prepare a quarter of a rod of this ground, and sow it,
precisely as directed for the Cabbage-seed, with Swedish turnip-seed; and
sow a quarter of a rod _every three days_, till you have sowed _two rods_.
If the _fly appear_, cover the rows over in the _day-time_ with cabbage
leaves, and take the leaves off at night; hoe well between the plants; and
when they are safe from the fly, _thin_ them to four inches apart in the
row. The two rods will give you nearly _five thousand plants_, which is
2000 more than you will want. From this bed you draw your plants to
transplant in the ground where the cabbages have stood, as before
directed. You should transplant none much _before_ the middle of July, and
not much _later_ than the middle of August. In the two rods, whence you
take your turnip plants, you may leave plants to come to perfection, at
two feet distances each way; and this will give you _over and above_, 840
pounds weight of turnips. For the other two rods will be ground enough for
you to sow your cabbage plants in at the end of August, as directed for
last year.
126. I should now proceed to speak of the manner of harvesting,
preserving, and using the crops; of the manner of feeding the cow; of the
shed for her; of the managing of the manure, and several other less
important things; but these, for want of room here, must be reserved for
the beginning of my next Number. After, therefore, observing that the
Turnip plants must be transplanted in the same way that Cabbage plants
are; and that both ought to be transplanted in _dry_ weather and in ground
just _fresh digged_, I shall close this Number with the notice of two
points which I am most anxious to impress upon the mind of every reader.
127. The first is, whether these crops give an _ill taste_ to milk and
butter. It is very certain, that the taste and smell of certain sorts of
cattle-food will do this; for, in some parts of America, where the wild
_garlick_, of which the cows are very fond, and which, like other
bulbous-rooted plants, springs before the grass, not only the milk and
butter have a strong taste of garlick, but even the _veal_, when the
calves suck milk from such sources. None can be more common expressions,
than, in Philadelphia market, are those of _Garlicky Butter_ and _Garlicky
Veal_, I have distinctly tasted the _Whiskey_ in milk of cows fed on
distiller's wash. It is also certain, that, if the cow eat _putrid_ leaves
of cabbages and turnips, the butter will be offensive. And the
white-turnip, which is at best but a poor thing, and often half putrid,
makes miserable butter. The large _cattle-cabbage_, which, when loaved
hard, has a strong and even an offensive smell, will give a bad taste and
smell to milk and butter, whether there be putrid leaves or not. If you
boil one of these rank cabbages, the water is extremely offensive to the
smell. But I state upon positive and recent experience, that Early York
and Sugar-loaf Cabbages will yield as sweet milk and butter _as any food
that can be given to a cow_. During this last summer, I have, with the
exception about to be noticed, kept, from the 1st of May to the 22d of
October, _five cows_ upon the grass _of two acres and a quarter of ground,
the grass_ being generally _cut up for them_ and given to them in the
stall. I had in the spring 5000 cabbage plants, intended for my pigs,
eleven in number. But the pigs could not eat _half_ their allowance,
though they were not very small when they began upon it. We were compelled
to resort to the aid of the cows; and, in order to see _the effect on the
milk and butter_, we did not _mix_ the food; but gave the cows two
_distinct spells_ at the cabbages, each spell about 10 _days in duration_.
The cabbages were cut off the stump with little or no care about _dead
leaves_. And sweeter, finer butter, butter of a finer colour, than these
cabbages made, never was made in this world. I never had better from cows
feeding in the sweetest pasture. Now, as to _Swedish turnips_, they do
give a little taste, especially if boiling of the milk pans be neglected,
and if the greatest care be not taken about _all_ the dairy tackle. Yet we
have, for months together, had the butter so fine from Swedish turnips,
that nobody could well distinguish it from grass-butter. But to secure
this, there must be no _sluttishness_. Churn, pans, pail, shelves, wall,
floor, and all about the dairy, must be clean; and, above all things, the
pans must be _boiled_. However, after all, it is not here a case of
delicacy of smell so refined as to faint at any thing that meets it except
the stink of perfumes. If the butter do taste a little of the Swedish
turnip, it will do very well where there is plenty of that sweet sauce
which early rising and bodily labour are ever sure to bring.
128. The _other point_ (about which I am still more anxious) is the
_seed_; for if the seed be not _sound_, and especially if it be not _true
to its kind_, all your labour _is in vain_. It is best, if you can do it,
to get your seed from some friend, or some one that you know and can
trust. If you save seed, observe all the precautions mentioned in my book
on _Gardening_. This very year I have some Swedish turnips, _so called_,
about 7000 in number, and should, if my seed had been _true_, have had
about _twenty tons_ weight; instead of which I have about _three_! Indeed,
they are not _Swedish turnips_, but a sort of mixture between that plant
and _rape_. I am sure the seedsman did not wilfully deceive me. He was
deceived himself. The truth is, that seedsmen are compelled to _buy_ their
seeds of this plant. _Farmers_ save it; and they but too often pay very
little attention to the manner of doing it. The best way is to get a dozen
of fine turnip plants, perfect in all respects, and plant them in a
situation where the smell of the blossoms of nothing of the cabbage or
rape or turnip or even _charlock_ kind, can reach them. The seed will keep
perfectly good for _four years_.
No. V
KEEPING COWS--(_continued._)
129. I have now, in the conclusion of this article, to speak of the manner
of _harvesting_ and _preserving_ the _Swedes_; of the place _to keep the
cow in_; of the _manure_ for the land; and of the _quantity of labour_
that the cultivation of the land and the harvesting of the crop will
require.
130. _Harvesting and preserving the Swedes._ When they are ready to take
up, the tops must be cut off, if not cut off before, and also the _roots_;
but neither tops nor roots should be cut off _very close_. You will have
room for ten bushels of the _bulbs_ in the house, or shed. Put the rest
into ten-bushel heaps. Make the heap _upon_ the ground in a _round form_,
and let it rise up to a point. Lay over it a little litter, straw, or dead
grass, about three inches thick, and then earth upon that about six inches
thick. Then cut a thin round _green turf_, about eighteen inches over, and
put it upon the crown of the heap to prevent the earth from being washed
off. Thus these heaps will remain till wanted for use. When given to the
cow, it will be best to _wash_ the Swedes and cut each into two or three
pieces with a spade or some other tool. You can take in ten bushels at a
time. If you find them _sprouting_ in the spring, open the remaining
heaps, and expose them to the sun and wind; and cover them again slightly
with straw or litter of some sort.[6]