THE LANCASTER FARMER. 



123 



culture, and were soon able to instruct their 

 pupils. 



The establishment now contains three hun- 

 dred and six girls, from si.x to eighteen years 

 of age. It consists of a large house, beautiful 

 church, a school-room, an inlirmary, and a 

 garden-house, in the grounds, which are 

 above four hundred acres in extent. This 

 land, their main support, is cultivated entire- 

 ly by young girls. They work hard, and all 

 look healthy and happy. In the fields they 

 dig, sow, reap, plant, mow, and prune. They 

 guide the plow, and cart home the liay and 

 corn. Indoors they spin, cook, wash, iron, 

 make their own clothes, besides cheese, cider, 

 and all country productions. In eleven days 

 they constructed a good road a mile and a 

 quarter long, counecHug the house with the 

 garden house. Tlieir specialty is the care and 

 management of cattle. They have one hun- 

 dred cows, above a thousand head of poultry, 

 some oxen, and twenty-three horses. 



Notwithstanding their rough labor, the 

 girls are neat, orderly and obedient. Their 

 working costume consists of a short dress of 

 coarse material, thick stockings, strong shoes, 

 and broad-leafed straw hats, for protection 

 against the sun. On Sunday and holidays, 

 they wear a uniform of blue with black or 

 white capes, and white headgear. 



The excellence of their productions has 

 been attested by several medals of the French 

 Agricultural Society. Besides out-door em- 

 ployment, two hours a day are given to the 

 school room, where they are taught readinsr, 

 writing, arithmetic, singing and geography. 

 The telegraph and telephone also are worked 

 by the girls. The younger and more innocent 

 are kept apart from those older in years and 

 crime, their class-rooms and dormitories be- 

 ing quite separate. 



When the girls have reached the age of 

 eighteen, and their training is completed, 

 Dardetal girls find ready situations as stew- 

 ards, gardeners, dairy women, and farm 

 managers. They are in great demand in 

 Normandy, on account of their skill and prac- 

 tical ability. Each girl on leaving is provided 

 with a small outfit, and the money she has 

 earned herself in over hours, and should she 

 be ill or in trouble, the " Mother's House" is 

 ever open to her. 



WHY PEOPLE TAKE MEDICINE. 

 It is to be feared that, to most people, 

 medicine is not an erudite science or a learned 

 art, but is little more than one of the com- 

 monplace administration of physic. They 

 cannot understand medicine without drugs, 

 and its virtue and power are popularly meas- 

 ured by the violence of its operations. Its 

 very name is, in ordinary parlance, synony- 

 moiis with people. Take from it its pills and 

 potions, and for them you take away its whole 

 art and mystery. They do not believe in a 

 scheme of treatment, however deep-laid and 

 skillful, which does not include a certain 

 stautory dosage ; so that, as a rule, medical 

 men are practically compelled to give 

 their patients a visisible object of faith in 

 some form of physic, which may be at most 

 designed to effect some very subordinate pur- 

 pose. And it is remarkable how strongly, even 

 among the educated classes, this feeling pre- 

 vails. Cure by the administration of mixtures 



and baluses is so fixed and ancient a tradition, 

 that it is only very slowly that the world will 

 give it up. The anxiety of the friends of the 

 patient wants to do more than follow the 

 simple directions of "imrsing," which have 

 been so carefully inculcated, and possess, ap- 

 parently, .so little remedial power. There is 

 nothing of the unknown about them in which 

 a fiuttering hope of great advantage can nestle. 

 Thus it is necessary to educate the w(uid into 

 a belief in medicine apart from drugs, which 

 finds its power of curing in adaptations of the 

 common conditions of life, and applications 

 of physiological facts — a medicine which takes 

 into its hands the whole life, and orders and 

 fashions its every detail with scientific definlte- 

 ness. It is found in every-day practice that 

 this popular misunderstanding of the modern 

 spirit of medicine constantly checks the little 

 tentative advance^ of a more scientific treal- 

 mont, and it is necessary that it should be 

 generally understood how powerfully the va- 

 rious processes of the economy may be aft'ect- 

 ed by the manipulation of the conditions of 

 common life. 



HOW TO GROW CURRANTS. 



We find the following bit of horticultural 

 experience in a pile of scraps, and cannot tell 

 by whom it was written, nor in what paper it 

 first appeared. It is just as valuable, how- 

 ever, as though we were able to give it proper 

 credit : 



When I assumed charge of our garden 

 there was a row of old and stunted currant 

 bushes near the fence. They were complete- 

 ly grass-bound. Half the bushes were dead. 

 Each year they put out a scanty crop of 

 leaves, blossomed feebly, and bore probably, 

 a pint of currants to each bush— small, half- 

 dried up things that it was more trouble to 

 free from the worms and blasted berries than 

 they were worth after they had been " looked 

 over." 



I determined to experiment with these 

 neglected bushes. 1 took them up and cut 

 them apart, and left attached to the roots 

 only the youngest and healthiest growth. I 

 left but three or four stalks to each plant. I 

 prepared a new place for them, digging the 

 soil up thoroughly to the depth of a foot and 

 a half, and incorporating with it plenty of 

 manure. I set the plants about four feet 

 apart in the row, and the rows were about 

 seven feet from each other. I am convinced 

 that one reason why so many currant bushes 

 mildew and blight is, they are set too close 

 together. They need room to spread in, and 

 there should be a little space between them 

 after they have spread. If crowded the 

 growth becomes so close and dense that damp- 

 ness and impeded circulation of air induce 

 mildew. At least, that is my theory of this 

 disease as seen in currant bushes, and my 

 method of planting convinces me that I am 

 correct, for not one of my bushes, treated in 

 the way I recommend, has ever blighted or 

 mildewed. 



After .setting out the plants I took the 

 wheelbarrow and brought from the chip-yard 

 several loads of old, half-decayed chips. These 

 I spread around the bushes. Tliey decay and 

 enrich the soil, and they also smother the 

 grass that attempts to grow, thus answering 

 a double purpose. 



The first year my hushes grew finely. They 

 sent up dozens of »tout, healthy stalks. The 

 most of these I pinched off. Half a dozen to 

 a bush are enough. As soon as the new ones 

 were a foot or two high I cut out the ones I 

 had left when setting out the plants, so that 

 the tops, In the fall, were an entirely new 

 growth. They were strong and healthy, and 

 showed what cultivation would do for neglect- 

 ed tilings. In November I threw a wagon 

 load of coarse litter about the roots. Currants 

 are hardy, but I think our hardiest plants 

 stand the winter enough better with some 

 such protection to make it worth while to 

 give it. In the spring I forked this litter in, 

 with the old top-dressing of chips, and added 

 more chips to take the place of those now 

 ipilte rotten. That summer we had more 

 fruit from these young bushes than the old 

 ones had given us for years, and it was so 

 large and fine that some of our neighbors 

 thought we must have procured a new variety. 

 The secret was all in the extra care I had given 

 They had a chance, at last, to show what they 

 were capable of doing, and what they would 

 do under favorable circumstances. Our cur- 

 rant plot was a success. 



But few new canes were allowed to grow 

 the second year. By pinching oft" the new 

 shoots as they appear the bushes can be kept 

 within bounds, and the trouble of trimming 

 avoided. If allowed to send up new stalks 

 each clump soon becomes a perfect mat of 

 bushes. By pinching off the new growth the 

 bushes are not only kept properly thinned, 

 but the vigor of the plant is confined to only 

 what growth is needed, and the fruit will be 

 much larger and more plentiful than is the 

 ease where all the shoots are allowed to grow, 

 and are not removed until the next spring. 

 Every other year I cut out all the older growth, 

 thus keeping my bushes young and vigorous. 



We have an immense yield every year. We 

 have all that we require for table use during 

 the season of them, and for drying, spicing 

 and making jelly, and often give away pails- 

 full of them to the neighbors for the picking 

 of them. 



We are never troubled with the worms 

 which almost always infest bushes among 

 which the grass has been allowed to grow. 

 During the summer we scatter feed about the 

 plants, and the hens pick it up, and with it all 

 grubs that may be in the soil. They are al- 

 lowed to wallow among the bushes, and the 

 loose soil makes it a faverito resort for them. 

 Thus the ground is kept clean, and no worms 

 effect a lodging on the bushes. Old mortar, 

 shavings, chips or straw, can be effectively 

 applied to the soil— anything that helps to keep 

 It light and open. IJy the use of these things, 

 and the assistance of busy hens, we have 

 avoided the work of hoeing among our bushes 

 to keep down weeds and grass. 



FIGHTING THE CUTWORM. 

 How to get rid of the cutworm is an in- 

 quiry that is often made, for it is one of the 

 most destructive enemies with which we have 

 to contend. Saltpetre, common salt, soot 

 and many other things have been tried, but 

 all to no good result. Place a cutworm in a 

 saucer of salt and he will not wince. But he 

 does not like frost. Cold kills him, and he 

 soon yields to a cold application. AVhat 



