1869. 



NEW ENGLAND FARRIER. 



465 



cases in which this is true. The homes are 



not pleasant to them by reason of unceasing 

 ■work, and the want of cheerfulness in the 

 family. 



The remedy, I think, in a measure, is to be 

 found in farmers finding out that they can ac- 

 complish more, year by year, if they devote a 

 portion of their time to recuperate their pow- 

 ers, by relaxation. A case in point occurs to 

 me. 



A cousin of my father went from Rhode 

 Island, when about thirty years of age to 

 Madison, N. Y. He came back to visit the 

 old place some three or four times before he 

 was fifty years old. After that his visits be- 

 came more frequent, so that he felt bi fore he 

 died that he must come about every season. 

 He told me he could spend from three to five 

 weeks from home and gain double the amount 

 of time before the year expired, in conse- 

 quence of the new energy with which he could 

 enter upon everything he had in hand. He 

 felt happy and joyful and wanting to sing all 

 the time. He was seventy-nine years old 

 when he made his last visit. He was prepar- 

 ing for another the following summer, but 

 sickened and died. He would either leave in 

 the spring as soon as the crops were in the 

 ground, or after his hay ana small grain har- 

 vest was over. 



What was true cf this man is true of all 

 others, to a greater or less extent. After a 

 season of relaxation we bring new energy into 

 all we have to do. Work is done with a will. 

 More of cheerfulness accompanies it. Dis- 

 appointments fail to depress as formerly. Old 

 thmgs have passed away. The future wears 

 a new aspect. "We have renewed our youth 

 as the eagle." 



I am aware that most farmers will say "this 

 is all very well ; but we cannot possibly bring 

 it around." Just here is where the trouble 

 lies, I am ready to admit. At the same time 

 I would urge you to seek for some way to ac- 

 complish it. Take your wife mto \our coun- 

 cil, and also the children. You will find that 

 they will enter into a solution of the difficul- 

 ties with a will. Your combined wisdom will 

 be sure to triumph in the end, because your 

 interest is involved in it. When once the 

 matter has been put to the test, no fear of it 

 ever being dropped. Much ()f discontent and 

 seeming hardship will disappear. Try it. 



July 29, lis69. k. o. 



For the New England Farmer. 

 HA.Y-MAKIlVG. 



Who shall decide when doctors disagree ? is 

 a question seldom answered, though often pro- 

 pounded. I was led to this thought on look- 

 ing over a paper read by S. Edwards Todd, 

 before the American Insti'ute Farmers' Club 

 in New York city, on the lith of July. 



Mr. Todd is very decided in his views as to 

 the best mode of curing hay, and also in h.s 



ability to satisfy all intelligent persons that 

 he is correct. Now I do not lay claim to a 

 very large degree of intelligence, but I do 

 claim the privilege of dissenting from some of 

 his views. H ' tells us that hay is necessarily 

 injured by heating in the mow and stack, and 

 just as much so as grain is by heating in the 

 bin. Mr. Todd emphatically declares that 

 this is so ; and he goes on to prove it by as- 

 suming that hay that is allowed to sweat and 

 heat, must be mow-burnt, musty, dusty, and 

 mouldy ; and, as a consequence, not as good as 

 well-cured hay. If it is true that mow-sweated 

 hay is as a general thing made must)- and dusty 

 by simply heating, his position is tenable. 

 But I think he is mistaken in this assumption. 

 I have repeatedly put hay in the stack and 

 mow when it was scarcely wilted. It was cut, 

 as 1 always try to have hay cut, when in full 

 blossom. I will mention one or two instances. 

 When a young man, my father left me in 

 charge of ha\ing for a few days. The day he 

 was expected home, I had about six tons 

 of hay cut in the morning, as it was a bright 

 one, but without dew. Towards noon the 

 wind came from the northeast, it clouded up, 

 and there was every prospect of a storm. I 

 was in a quandary, but seeing an old gentle- 

 man of the neighboihood coming up the road, 

 I concluded to get his opinion as to what I 

 had best do with the hay. He asked me if 

 there was any dew on it when cut. I told 

 him no, and said that it had been spread as 

 fast as it was cut. Being a Quaker, he re- 

 plied, "Thee better stack it then ; I had rather 

 have a pound of sap than an ounce of water." 

 I followed his advice, but on my father's re- 

 turn, I found it was much to his dissatisfaction. 

 The result was that the heat in that stack was 

 very great, and I feared it was ruined. Dur- 

 ing the season my father often referred to it 

 as one of my boyish freaks. Oar fears, how- 

 ever, were happily dispelled by finding the hay 

 all right when it was fed out. My father 

 pronounced it the best hay he had, and from 

 that time on, never failed to secure or put up 

 his hay as soon as it was thoroughly dry from 

 all moisture. 



I do not know as I understand Mr. Todd 

 when he tells us that the process of making 

 hay consists in evaporating the moisture from 

 the jwices of the grass. The idea appears to 

 be that we are to do this to the extent that we 

 expel the juices from fruit, or at least that it 

 is not safe to leave the sap in the hay at all. 



I once put twenty tons of hay on a mow, by 

 hauling it in as the teams came to the house 

 noon and night. It was usual on unload- 

 ing to find the mow quite hot, and as the hay 

 neared the rafters, on filing up, the moisture 

 gathered upon them and dropped down upon 

 the hay. To obviate any damage from this 

 dripp ng, 1 had some straw spread over the hay 

 to receive it. This mow of hay was fed out 

 in the spring of the year, when cows were 

 coming in, and to the sheep with lambs. 



