1853. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



541 



it go back" said I. "No," said he, "that is an 

 optical deception; by the time the pendulum has 

 reached the limit of its vibration the rotation of 

 the earth, from west to east, brings the pivot, on 

 which the pendulum hangs, directly vertical to the 

 bob or weight and there is no need of its swing- 

 ing back. I asked the venerable Scotchman how 

 his theory would work if the clock was so situated 

 that the pendulum swung from north to south, in 

 which case the rotation of the earth would not 

 affect it. The old gentleman was thoughtful but 

 said nothing. "You have seen clocks whose pen- 

 dulums swung north and south?" said I. "Y e s," 

 said he, "but I ha' always noted that they did na' 

 keep good time." 



The name of this excellent old man was Alex- 

 ander Troop. He was, I believe, a native of Aber- 

 deen, in Scotland, and was brought up a carpenter 

 under the nose of the respectable college at that 

 place. His attainments in mathematics would 

 have fitted him for respectable rank as a surveyor 

 or civil engineer, had not his natural modesty led 

 him entirely to underrate his ability. He came to 

 this country probably fifty years ago. Mr. Troop 

 was very ingenious and very faitnful, too much 

 so, in f;ict, ever to accumulate any property. I 

 never knew a man more scrupulously honest, just, 

 and pious. That such a man should sometimes 

 appear set in his way is not to be wondered at. 

 Etis long residence amongst us did not smooth the 

 broad Scottish dialect that he brought over with 

 him. He loved study, was a deep thinker, and 

 among his other theories had one of perpetual mo- 

 tion, based on the properties of the triangle, 

 while the casting of nativities was an amusement 

 to him. His mathematical bias influenced his 

 whole conduct, and once, when I wished him to 

 inclose a certain space with rough boards, before 

 the tide came up, he began to square the ends of 

 every board before he sawed it. "You must not 

 square the ends," said I, "there is not time." 

 "What shall I do, then, if I don't square them?" 

 said he. "Guess at it," said I. "Guess!" said 

 he in utter astonishment, "I never guessed at any 

 thing in my life!" Alexander Troop died, two or 

 three years ago, at the age probably of eighty- 

 eight, and the green sod never closed over a more 

 worthy man. w. b. f. 



Boston, Nov. 14, 1853. 



For the New England Farmer. 

 RAISE YOUR OWN WHEAT. 



Friend Brown : — The question has been asked, 

 "Why do not the farmers of New England raise 

 their own wheat." We answer because they do 

 not try. We believe the farmers of New England 

 can raise their own wheat as well as their corn, 

 rye and potatoes, (a.) We are not disposed to tax the 

 readers of the Farmer with a long fine spun theory, 

 and ground our belief and assertion upon that, but 

 simply to state a few plain facts comprising our 

 own experience and that of some of our neighbors 

 in raising winter wheat the past season. The 10th 

 of 9th mo. 1852, we sowed two bushels of white 

 flint wheat on two acres of warm, loamy land, 

 from which a crop of grass had been cut. We 

 gave it a common dressing of stable and compost 

 manure before plowing, and sowed on the furrows. 

 About the middle of 7th month, we harvested the 

 crop, which yielded 65 bushels, or 32i bushels to 

 the acre weighing G3 lbs. to the bushel. 



James Comstock, of our town, harvested the 

 past summer from li acres, 51 bushels, or 34 

 bushels to the acre. 



Henry WuEELOCK, of Mendon, purchased of us 

 last fall 3 pecks of wheat, which he sowed on | of 

 an acre, from which he obtained 23 bushels. 

 Another, in our town, by way of experiment, 

 sowed 4 quarts on J of an acre, which yielded 4i 

 bushels. Another in Sutton, from 2 quarts, sowed 

 on 1-16 of an acre, obtained nearly 2 bushels. 

 Although some of these experiments are on a 

 small scale, yet they are all attended with the 

 same satisfactory results, and go to prove that the 

 flirmers of New England can raise good crops of 

 winter wheat, if they can be induced to try. We 

 have sowed 4 acres this fall, which looks finely at 

 present ; the result next year. Several of our 

 neighbors have sowed wheat this fall, an account 

 of which will also be forwarded. We hope other 

 farmers of Massachusetts will give publicity to 

 their experiments in raising winter wheat. 



Battey & Aldrich. 



Blackstone, llth mo. Wth, 1853. 



Remarks. — (a.) So do we, friends. This is just 

 the kind of information we all need. Please ac- 

 cept our thanks for your attention. 



For the New England Farmer. 

 PIGS AND TURNIPS. 



BY HENRY F. FRENCH. 



If we could only discover some mode of keeping 

 a large stock of swine, on our farms near good 

 markets, so that we could make plenty of manure, 

 and yet sell our hay, the question of how we can 

 live by farming, in this part of New Hampshire, 

 would be answered. When hay is worth but ten 

 dollars a ton, steers and heifers will consume 

 more of it than the worth of their bodies, at three 

 years old : but our farmers are too far-sighted, and 

 have too much honesty to take from the soil with- 

 out returning an equivalent, and so many of them 

 work all summer to collect food for their cattle in 

 winter, and in the spring, have only their cattle 

 left, increased in value not one half the value of 

 their winter's food. 



Most of us have seen this to be folly, and tried 

 keeping swine, and when potatoes could be raised 

 for ten or twelve cents a bushel, we could raise 

 pork to some profit, at prices lower than the 

 present. 



But potatoes are not to be named, in these 

 days, for such base uses, and the question whether 

 corn can be used with advantage for feeding swine 

 has been very nicely tested. Perhaps with corn 

 at a dollar a bushel, and pork at six cents a 

 pound, the farmer may get the labor of the swine 

 for his trouble, and perhaps not. 



One thing, every farmer knows, who has tried 

 it, that a dozen half grown porkers will demolish 

 his handsome cribful of a hundred bushels of corn, 

 which it cost him so much hard work last summer 

 to raise, in a painfully short time, and the golden 



