1869. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



511 



young, I soon learned to sympathize with him. 

 Like all good men, he lived for his children. 

 He worked hard for us, denied himself many 

 luxuries that we might have a good time ; 

 would wear an old bat that we might have 

 new shoes, and often walked th it we might 

 ride. Never was a happier set of frolicking 

 young ones on a farm. And there is not one 

 of us to this day that does not love firming. 

 But those who talk of the "independent life" 

 of a farmer — of his freedom from care and 

 anxiety — merely show their ignorance. 



There was plenty of anxiety on our farm. 

 There was anxiety about the weather, about 

 the crops, about tlie stock, and above all, 

 about the health and life and limbs of the 

 children. We ought all to have been killed 

 half a dozen times over. One was kicked by 

 a horse and ran a narrower chance of life than 

 he has ever done since, and yet he has been 

 through the war, has been up and down the 

 Mississippi on a steamboat, and traveled the 

 whole length of the Erie Railroad. "Aunt 

 Hattie," as we now call her, had her head cut 

 open with a drnkey cart, and a sad house we 

 had for many days as she lay between life and 

 death. Another sister when three years old, 

 caught hold of the spokes of the fore wheel of 

 a heavily loaded wagon, and was thrown for- 

 ward, and the wheel grazed her whole body. 

 My father was driving, heard the scream, and 

 looked round in time to see the danger, but 

 not in time to stop the team. Fortunately the 

 nurse held on to the child and jerked her out 

 of the rut be-fore the hind wheel reached her. 

 Last fill, the eight children, who are still liv- 

 ing, all met together, and it was found that 

 every one of us had some scar that remained 

 to remind us of the accidents of early life. 



But what I wanted to say was that the habit 

 of keeping the books of my f ither was r»t 

 only a benefit to me, but a great comfort to 

 him. He told me his fears, and I know now 

 that it must have been a great relief to him. It 

 certainly was a great advantage to me. If I 

 know anything about farming, 1 learned most 

 ofitfrommy father. And I am fully per- 

 suaded that if a farmer would provide a nice, 

 substantially bound book, and induce his son 

 to write down every daj, at his dictation, all 

 that was done on the farm, it would go a great 

 ways towards making a good firmer of him. 

 It would be useful. I can imagine some such 

 record as this : — 



_ September 1st. — "Very dry weather. Cul- 

 tivating for wheat." And then the boy would 

 be very likely to ask when he was going to 

 sow, and what kind and why. 



Sept. 2 — "Sow had ten little pigs last night, 

 but killed two of them." "It is too bad," 

 says the boy, "to lose them now, pigs are so 

 scarce and high, and they say a rail nine inches 

 high put round the pen, ^i.^ inches or so from 

 the board.s, will prevent a sow from 1} ing on 

 the pigs." "I thought of doing it," says the 

 fai-mer, "but I could not find the hammer, and 



we have no spikes." Mental reflection by the 

 boy: "I left the hammer in the wagon." By 

 the father: "Those two pigs at six weeks old 

 would have sold for ten dollars." 



Sept. 3. — "Thrashing. The five acres of 

 Diehl wheat on the summer-fallow gave 150 

 bushels ; the ten acres of Mediterranean after 

 oats, gave only 120 bushels." "If we had 

 sown it all Diehl," says the boy, "we should 

 have had 450 bushels instead of 270." If the 

 father is a sensible man he would correct this 

 remark, and point out the fact that it was not 

 the variety, but the condition and character of 

 the land that made the difference. 



Sept. 4. — "One of the horses sick." He had 

 been on the thrashing machine all day, and the 

 driver, to save his own horses, had made the 

 farmer's do pretty much all the work. This 

 horse was on the outside, and his end of the 

 evener was no longer than that of the horse 

 having the inside track, and he had to draw 

 just as hard as the other and walk much faster. 



Sept. 5. — "Drew the wheat to the city. Left 

 at home ten bushels of Diehl for seed, and 

 twenty bushels of Mediterranean. The Diehl 

 overrun four bushels, and the Mediterranean 

 fell short three bushels. Got $2 a bushel for 

 the Diehl, and $1.75 for the Mediterranean." 

 The five acres of Diehl came to $280, and the 

 ten acres of Mediterranean, $175. 



Now let a farmer tell his son such facts, and 

 let him write them down as they occur, and 

 the chances are that five years will not pass 

 before the farm will be at least partially 

 drained, weeds will have disappeared, thirty 

 bushels of wheat and two tons of hay per acre 

 will be the rule rather than the exception, and 

 there will be little danger of that young man 

 seeking a clerkship in the city. 



PREPARING ANNOTTO. 



Mr. Willard gives in the Bural New Yorker 

 the following methods employed by old and 

 experienced factorymen for preparing annotto 

 for coloring cheese : — 



First Becipe. — Dissolve six pounds concen- 

 trated potash and one pound saltpetre in five 

 gallons of warm water, then add thirty gallons 

 cold water, put in as much choice annotto as 

 the liquid will dissolve, heat gently to a boil, 

 put into a cask and store in a cool place. 



Second Recipe. — Dissolve four pounds pot- 

 ash in one-half barrel of water, put in as 

 much pure annotto as the liquid will cut. The 

 mixture need not be boiled. 



Third Becipe. — Take four pounds of best 

 annotto, two pounds concentrated potai^h, five 

 ounces saltpetre, one and a half pounds sal- 

 soda, and five gallons boiling water. Put the 

 ingredients into a tub, pour on the boiling 

 water. The annotto should be enclosed In a 

 cloth, and as It dissolves squeeze it through 

 the cloth in the liquid. About two ounces of 



