1862.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
ly to the mill, or set up or laid in piles, aucl 
protected against frost by covering them with 
the tops, or with hay or straw,—in which condi¬ 
tion they will keep for months. 
The mill used was Hedges, Free & Co.’s two- 
liorse mill—a good one—consisting of three rol¬ 
lers thirteen inches long, the largest and upper 
one eight inches, the others four inches in diame¬ 
ter ; both small rollers act against the large one. 
From eight to thirteen canes are kept passing 
through the mill at once, and as the juice flows 
out it is conducted to the “ clarifier,” being as 
liquid §s water, and of a dark grass-green color. 
(Imphee juice is of a dark, muddy hue.) In the 
clarifying pan it is mixed with Root’s patent 
“ clarifyers,” (a mixture of lime, soda and eggs.) 
After clarifying, the juice is boiled and slam¬ 
med for fifteen minutes. From this it is drawn 
off into the settling box, where, mixed with 
clay, it stands to settle, and after fifteen or twen¬ 
ty minutes, may be drawn off clear and limpid, 
into a convenient vessel, whence it is pumped 
up into the evaporator. 
Cook’s evaporator is used, in which the fire 
plays under an inclined pan, down which the 
juice is made to run, following a zig-zag course, 
running faster or slower, according to the in¬ 
clination of the pan, or the rapidity at which it 
is allowed to flow in or out. Water is placed 
in the evaporator to begin with, and in twenty 
to twenty-five minutes after the juice begins to 
flow in at one end syrup begins to flow out at 
the other. By the exercise of a little care, there 
is no danger of burning the syrup; but the care 
must be constant. A uniform product is most 
desirable. The syrup should not be too thick, 
for it will not flow readily from the barrels if it 
is so, and this great degree of concentration is 
not necessary to prevent souring. The mill 
runs about sixty gallons an hour, and sixty gal¬ 
lons is a charge for the clarifier, and so about 
this quantity was worked at one time. 
Mr. Yan Meter made syrup for half the pro¬ 
duct, and found ready sale for his portion at the 
mill, as fast as it was made, at fifty cents per 
gallon, and had no end of orders which could 
not be filled. 
One hundred gallons to the acre was about 
an average yield last year for land adjoining 
corn which yielded fifty bushels to the acre. 
The Sorghum syrup, at fifty cents per gallon, 
half going to the boiler, nets the farmer $25; 
while corn only sold for fifteen cents per bushel, 
netting $7.50 per acre. 
For ourselves, we entertain no doubt that the 
boiler’s profit will be found too great by and by, 
and so a still larger profit will accrue to the 
farmer. We have reports of crops yielding from 
100 gallons to 850, or even more, per acre. 
P. S.—A Sorghum Convention. —As we 
close this sheet, we have from a special corres¬ 
pondent, a report of the meeting of Sorghum 
Growers, at Columbus, Ohio, Jan. 7, but cannot 
now find room for it. They appear to have had 
a good time, with their fifteen samples of beau¬ 
tiful Sorghum sugar, and “Sorghum syrup 
enough to float a [very] small frigate.” Many 
reported having made 10 to 100 pounds each of 
sugar last year. Most, if not all, had used Cook’s 
rocking Evaporator. There was considerable 
information brought out during the discussions 
and relations of experience. These referred 
more to harvesting and manufacturing than to 
planting, and will be in season hereafter. One 
point stated is important, viz.: that most of the 
seed now in the country is hybridized with 
broom corn, and is therefore deteriorated, mak¬ 
ing a new importation of seed desirable. 
Tim Bunker on the Value of Muck. 
“Ha’int you got most tired on’t, squire ?” asked 
Ben. Jones, as I carted along my twentieth load 
of muck last night. 
“ Guess not. Why ?” I replied. 
“It’s a mighty deal of hard work for nothing. 
I’d just as leeves have so many loads of snow 
banks in a barn yard.” 
“ It’s all moonshine about there’s bein any var- 
tu in muck. I’d jest as soon dung a field with 
icicles,” chimed in George Washington Tucker, 
who gets his ideas and his drinks from Jones. 
“ Them’s my sentiments exactly,” said Jake 
Frink, as he met us in the road with a load of 
oats in bags, going down to Shadtown to mar¬ 
ket. “ You see I was overpersuaded one year, 
when the Squire bo’t the hoss-pond lot, to try 
some of the mud that come out of the side of 
the road, where the pond used to be. I guess 
I carted a dozen load, and thought I was going 
to see corn stalks as big as your wrist, and ears 
as long as a hoe-handle. And I du declare I 
never could see abit a difference where I used it.” 
“ How much manure did you put on to the 
acre ?” inquired Seth Twiggs as he drew a luci- 
fer across the top of his boot, and lighted his 
inevitable pipe. 
“Wall I made a whoppin sight that year, and 
slapped her on ten loads to the acre.” 
“ Corn must ’av been skeer’d at such duin’s 
I guess,” said Seth with a twinkle in his eye 
that the cloud of smoke could not hide. 
“ Corn didn’t come up well did it ?” asked 
Seth, pursuing his catechising. 
“Wall, yes, it came up, but looked mighty 
yaller, and didn’t begin to grow much till into 
June, and then it was spindlin, and a great 
many stalks didn’t have any years on ’em. It 
was that cold frog mud that pizened the sile.” 
“ How much corn du you git to the acre, take 
it by and large, Mr. Frink ?” asked Seth civilly. 
“ I guess about twenty bushels, on an average, 
some times a leetle more—and some times less.” 
“ And how much manure do you put on to 
the acre ?” contined Seth determined to get to 
the bottom of the matter. 
“ Wall that is jest as it happens. I allers put 
on all I make, be it more or less, p’raps fifty or 
sixty loads on to eight or nine acres of plantin. 
It’s real dung, though, and none of your bog 
moss, and stuff.” 
“ And how do you suppose Squire Bunker gits 
eighty bushels of corn to the acre ?” 
“Wall, his land allers was better than mine; 
and then he has more cattle to make more ma¬ 
nure, and he buys lots of guanner and bone 
dust, and all the ashes folks makes in the vil¬ 
lage, and sets every boy that’s big enough to 
run on tew legs to pickin up bones, and buys 
every dedhoss and rotten sheep, and murdered 
cat, shoe maker’s parin’s, old boots, ded hens, 
old rags, and feathers, sticks ’em into this muck, 
and makes manure. If a man has money ’nuff 
to buy carrion, he can make manure and make 
crops, but ye see it costs more than it comes to. 
And then, who wants to be runnin an opposi¬ 
tion line to the crows! The Squire is great on 
dead hosses, depend on’t. The crows haven’t 
had a decent meal of vittles the last five years, 
the Squire’s been so spry after every ded critter.” 
Jake Frink touched up his nag and disap¬ 
peared rather suddenly after this display of his 
philosophy of big crops. There was, of course, 
some foundation in truth for his reflection upon 
my methods of'making manure. But neighbor 
Frink displayed his own pride, as well as my 
humiliation, in his remarks. One would hardly 
think it. But Jake Frink is really above his 
business, and is ashamed to do what ought to 
be done, to make the most of the materials with 
in his reach to enrich his stores of manure. You 
see this digging muck is nasty business. You 
must soil your boots, and your shirt sleeves, and 
a splash of mud upon your shirt bosom is not 
uncommon. Aud the handling of dead horses 
and other diseased animals is not particularly 
savory. But then if a man’s going to be a farm¬ 
er, he musn’t faint at the sight of such things, 
or carry a smelling bottle to keep down the 
stenches. Muck makes clean corn, yellow as 
gold, and the sweetest of meal, and all offal and 
putrid flesh in the laboratory of the soil is turn¬ 
ed into luxuriant grass, which makes nice milk, 
cheese, and butter, and a plenty of it. Being 
a farmer, and “ nothing else ”, as the boys say, 
I go in for muck and more of it every year. 
You gentlemen that edit agricultural papers, 
attend the fairs and see almost nobody but the 
best farmers, who carry out your teachings, 
think the world is almost converted to youi 
faith. You have been preaching about muck 
fora dozen 1 years or more, and you may think 
that every body understands it and every body 
uses it, and as much as they ought to. You 
never made a greater mistake in the world. I 
tell you the millenium hasn’t come yet by a long 
shot. I guess one half the farmers in these 
parts to-day, have got Jake Frink’s notion 
about muck, and it rests upon just his sort of 
trial, a single experiment based on an applica¬ 
tion of ten loads of half made compost to the 
acre. No wonder muck is considered poor stuff. 
Now I am ready to give a reason for the faith 
that is in me. On my old land I can not make 
any money at farming without manure, and 
carting muck is the cheapest way I can make 
it. Indeed I should not know what to do with¬ 
out swamp muck. Manure, as it is sold in 
towns and villages in the Northern States 
brings from two to three dollars a cord of 103 
bushels. As it 6 rings this price it is to be pre¬ 
sumed that it is worth this to the cultivators 
who buy it. These are generally market gar¬ 
deners and farmers who live within four or five 
miles of market. If manure is worth this to the 
farmer who has to cart it several miles, it is cer¬ 
tainly worth as much, or more, to the farmer 
who makes it and uses it upon his own farm. 
Now I claim for the muck and peat that I use, 
that I make a dollar upon every cord that pass¬ 
es through my yard and stables on its way to 
the plowed fields where it is turned under— 
reckoning its value at the lowest market price, 
two dollars a cord. The peat as it lies in the 
bed yielding no income, is entirely worthless. 
It can be dug and thrown upon the bank of the 
ditch for twenty five cents a cord. If it can lie 
a year, all the better, but this is not essential, as 
fresh stable manure will cure it without frost. 
It can be delivered in my yard for fifty cents a 
cord, f)ut it would cost those who have to cart it 
half a mile or more, perhaps seventy five cents 
a cord, making a dollar. Dry muck in the pro¬ 
cess of mixing and curing during the Winter, 
would be certain to lose neither in weight nor 
volume. In the Spring it is worth two dollars 
a cord as it lies in the yard. In making com¬ 
post I calculate to use about three loads of muck 
to one of stable manure. If I have animals 
enough to make a hundred cords with nothing 
but straw, I can make four hundred with muck. 
On the muck that I am able to cure in the 
fields where I use it, I make a still larger profit, 
as I save once carting. This I cure with stable 
