1867. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



89 



shop or office, if he could make as much out of 

 their labor as the builders of machines do. 



Last year I paid $l;K) for a mowing machine 

 which cost its maker a little less than $60 to 

 construct. He made $70 profit. It cost me 

 12 tons of hay that grew on (> acres, and cost 

 $4 per ton to make. The land was worth $600, 

 and the interest on it at least $42 ; so the ma- 

 chine actually cost me $90. The maker pock- 

 eted $70 profit ; I made $40. He paid his help 

 $o per day without board, I paid mine $2 with 

 board. I could get no further use from my six 

 acres that year ; he could make as many mow- 

 ing machines as he pleased. 



Farmers do not get enough for their produc- 

 tions, and cannot afford to pay so liberally as 

 the trades ; the consetiuence is that our young 

 men flock to trades and professions where they 

 are better paid, and become consumers of food ; 

 and when the consumers have so increased over 

 the producers that food begins to be scarce, then 

 food will rise (as every scarce article does,) and 

 as it rises, farmers can afibrd to pay more for 

 help, and consequently get more of it, and thus 

 produce more, and so we shall not be without 

 bread and butter after all. — Country Gent. 



For the New England Farmer. 

 HOW TO KEEP THE BOYS AT HOME. 



Me. Editor : — I have been reading for some 

 time past the articles in different journals in 

 relation to young men leaving the farm for the 

 city. 



Boys have complained of "hard work and 

 poor pay," want of society, and of the fact 

 that the city chaps were getting all the best 

 and prettiest of their lady fiiends to leave the 

 country to grace city residences. Men have 

 conij)lained of their boys taking no interest in 

 the work, of their wanting to spend their even- 

 ings away from home, and continually wishing 

 there was no such thing as work. 



Well, Avho wonders at all this ? I don't. 

 Perhaps I am prejudiced in this matter, — being 

 only a boy myself, — yet having Uved a part of 

 my life with my eyes open, and being wilhng 

 to see a thing or two, 1 hive noticed this : — 

 where you see a home locking pleasant, house 

 neatly painted, the roadside fcept free fi-om 

 brush, the walls or fences in perfect order, 

 fruit trees and vines in profusion, good stables 

 and stock, and the house-room, not excepting 

 the sitting room and parlor, open at least once 

 a week, there you will find contentment in the 

 form of hoys and girls. Boys, who, when 

 visited by their city cousins, are not ashamed 

 to visit every nook and corner of the premises, 

 from cellar to attic, — field, garden and pasture, 

 for fear of their friends seeing something out 

 of order ; and when their cousins shall have 

 gone are not wishing that they, too, lived in the 

 city, that they might do so and so, and look 

 80 and so. For, didn't they have as good a 

 pony to drive as cousin Fi-ed? Didn't their 

 sisters appear just as free, and smart, and in- 



telligent as their cousins ? They have no idea 

 of leaving the farm, or if they have, it is soon 

 dispelled i)y hearing "Kafe" or "Nellie" play- 

 ing and singing one of their favorite songs ; or 

 by going to the book or paper shelf and finding 

 that the article in which they were so interested 

 is yet unfinished. 



Perhaps it is wholly out of place for me to 

 give advice to old farmers. But if advice is 

 good, what matters it where it comes from ? 



If your sons are discontented, look your 

 premises all over. Do they see the inside of 

 your parlor twice in the year, except when you 

 have company ? If not, ask them to invite a 

 few friends to spend the evening with them, 

 and let them learn the use of it. Do }ou take 

 anything but a political paper? and doesn't 

 that come in your name? But instead of one, 

 take two or more, and let the.se all come in 

 the names of your children ; let each one have 

 his or her paper or magazine. Did you say 

 you couldn't afford it? How much will they 

 all cost? Let's see. One Agricultural Week- 

 ly, say $2.50 ; one Monthly, $1.50 ; Our Young 

 Folks, $2.00; and keep your political paper, if 

 you choose, which is perhaps $2.00 ; in all 

 •fS.OO per year; 67 cts. per month, or a trifle 

 over tioo cts. per day. Excuse me, Sir, but 

 don't you chew, or smoke, or drink that amount ? 



Have your sons an article upon the farm 

 which they can call their own, except the hoes 

 and shovels which you have worn down too 

 small for jour own use ? If not, then get them 

 new tools of sizes according to their capacity, 

 and require them to be cleaned every time they 

 are used, under the penalty of going back to 

 the old tools. Let "Tom" have a colt, "Billy" 

 a pair of steers and "Sammy" a little flock of 

 sheep ; or let them choose, as their inclinations 

 may direct. Let them have something to call 

 their own, that they will be proud to own. 

 Are any of them musically inclined ? Buy 

 them an accordeon or a flute, and do not fret 

 and scold every time you hear them practicing. 

 Give them a piece of land to cultivate in their 

 names, and allow them to work it in regular 

 work-hours, and not compel them to do so in 

 their lawful play time. Present them with 

 books which will have a tendency to raise the 

 fanner's calling in their estimation. Purchase 

 a fi3w tools with which they' can malvC their own 

 sleds or repair a broken implement. 



As I am seated at my desk, 1 have before 

 me books suited to all tastes, — biographies, 

 histories, philosophies, volumes of poems, agri- 

 cultural works, (^c. At a table near by, I find 

 six or seven difi'erent weekly papers, a daily, 

 and three monthly magazines. You ask, "Do 

 you find time to read them all through ?" No, 

 I do not ; but 1 do And time to read the best 

 articles in each, and that is all I care to read. 

 In my shop I can find tools enough to make 

 almost any wooden implement to be found on. 

 the fai-m. 



But one word more to our older friends. 

 Give your children something to do lor them- 



