130 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[April, 
from it. As Dr. Yoelcker’s experiments clearly 
prove, there remains in the soil, after the re¬ 
moval of the crop, an enormous weight of 
clover roots , which on their decomposition sup¬ 
ply, in an available form, a large amount of 
plant food that this vigorous feeder has col¬ 
lected largely from sources that would have 
been inaccessible to the finer tendrils of wheat 
roots. Furthermore, clover roots penetrate 
deeply into the subsoil, and when they decay 
they leave open a well-furnished and inviting 
channel by which the roots of more delicate 
plants can descend beyond the influence of 
drouth. This is in addition to the accumula¬ 
tion of nitrogen in the substance of the roots, 
and in the fallen leaves of the crop. Whatever 
the reason may be, the fact is most obvious 
whenever I have been able to observe its effect, 
that the growth of clover has invariably added 
to the apparent fertility (the available fertility) 
of the soil. The good effect is much more ob¬ 
vious after two years’ growth of the clover. 
Tim Bunker on Selling Land. 
Mr. Editor,— ‘ Ye do n’t say ye ’re gwine to 
sell that Horse-Pond lot and the Mash, do ye ? ” 
inquired Seth Twiggs, with an astonished air, 
as he walked up to my shed where I was chop¬ 
ping and splitting wood. It was a bitter morn¬ 
ing, and the frost hung upon Seth’s long beard 
and whiskers like a mantle of snow, and the 
smoke curled up from his pipe as from the top 
of a chimney. 
“ Why not?” I asked. “The time to sell any 
thing is when you can get your price for it; and 
Deacon Smith has offered me more than I think 
the land is worth to me for farming purposes.” 
“I should as soon have thought of your sell- 
in’ your house, blam’d ef I should n’t, Squire,” 
said Jake Frink. “I did n’t s’pose you could 
buy that hoss-pond lot ef you kivered it with 
greenbacks, it growed such smashiu’ big crops 
sence you got hold on’t.” 
“And did ye say the Deacon was gwine to 
buy the Mash, too?” inquired Uncle Jotham 
Sparrowgrass, as he knocked his cane against 
the hickory log on which I was chopping. “ The 
Deacon is a master critter to get hold of land. 
He’s allers wanting more.” 
“And what’s the price?” asked George 
Washington Tucker, who is a good deal wor¬ 
ried about the price of land, as most landless 
people are apt to be. 
“ Four hundred dollars an acre,” I answered, 
“cash down. The Deacon never runs in debt; 
has always paid as he goes; and if you had 
gone on that principle, you might have owned 
the best farm in Hookertown to-day, instead of 
living in a wood-colored house, with old hats in 
the windows. It was running up scores at the 
tavern, and at the grocer’s, and at every place 
where they would trust you, that fixed you, and 
always kept you a poor man.” 
“Four hundred dollars an acre! What a 
price for land in Hookertown ! ” exclaimed Ben¬ 
jamin Franklin Jones. “It will sarlinly be the 
death of us; and we might as well get into our 
graves at once, to find a spot where we can 
rest. I s’pose I shall have to move agin, Squire, 
this Spring.” 
“ May-be not,” said I. “ The Deacon has got 
to let the house to somebody, and if you pay 
the rent promptly I suppose he will let you 
stay.” 
“ That, you see, is just where the shu pinches. 
I have been bothered to death to pay the rent 
to you, and 400 dollars an acre means higher 
rent next year. Land is gettiu’ skase, and I 
shall have to emigrate.” 
My neighbors are at a loss to know why I 
will sell land that is producing such crops as 
grow on the Horse-Fond lot and the Marsh— 
two and three tons of hay to the acre, selling 
this year at 30 dollars a ton. It pays a big in¬ 
terest. I expect that was what Deacon Smith 
looked at, when he offered me four hundred 
dollars an acre for it. Then it was as product¬ 
ive grass land as lies in Hookertown, requiring 
very little care to keep it up, and never wanting 
the plow, save with top dressing, to produce 
paying crops as long as grass grows anywhere. 
Banks fail sometimes to make dividends, and 
sometimes fail entirely. Since I knocked the 
bottom out of that pond-hole, the Hookertown 
bank has gone up entirely, and the stockholders 
will not get the first red cent of their capital. It 
used to be thought as good as Government bonds. 
I was fool enough to buy bank stock once. That 
thousand dollars haunts me yet. Not a dollar 
ever came back again. But this land that I 
bought of Jake Frink, thirteen years ago, for 
forty dollars, has given me nothing but satisfac¬ 
tion. I got rid of a nuisance by draining it. 
That has been a comfort every time I have 
looked at it, and I have seen it about every day 
since. It produced big crops, where nothing 
but green grass and hard-hack grew before. 
That was a sight worth seeing. The cattle ate 
the hay well, and that was cheerful, and grew 
fat and sold for cash, which was not bad to 
take. The improvement of the land cost me 
nothing, for the first two crops paid for every 
ditch and tile put down, and left a surplus. I 
have now sold for 800 dollars what cost me but 
40 dollars. The purchase is a good one for 
Deacon Smith, and the sale a good one for me— 
i.c., I can afford it. The Deacon has not so 
much taste for poor land as I have ; don’t like 
novelties so well. He is contented with three 
tons of hay to the acre straight along. I get 
sick of one thing after a while, and after raising 
that crop for a dozen years, I had rather begin 
on a new piece of worn-out land or swamp, 
and astonish the barren acres with new crops. 
The Marsh has not increased so much in value, 
because it was not so well purchased. It cost 
a hundred dollars an acre, and sold for 400 dol¬ 
lars. There was a strip of upland with it that 
will answer for building-lots, so that the price 
of the Marsh reclaimed perhaps might not be 
stated at more than three hundred dollars per 
aerp. An increase three-fold upon stock that 
has paid regular dividends of 10 per cent for 
thirteen years in succession, would be con¬ 
sidered a fair business by bankers or railroad 
men. I find a good deal more satisfaction in 
buying poor land, and fixing it up, than in hold¬ 
ing on to land that is producing about all it can. 
This sale of land to Deacon Smith will give me 
capital enough to buy another piece of marsh 
four or five times as large as the old, and to re¬ 
claim it. That improvement led to a good 
many others in the neighborhood; and as the 
story was told in the Agriculturist, it led to 
many more in other parts of the laud. I have 
visited two in Massachusetts, upon a much 
larger scale, aud I have heard of one, at least, 
in California. I calculate that the country is 
richer by a good many hundred thousand dol¬ 
lars for this Hookertown experiment. You see 
the light that is put in your candlestick shines 
a great way, and helps a great many people. 
Mi's. Bunker sends her respects, and says she 
hopes you will keep shining. 
Iloolcertoion, Conn., I Yours to command, 
Feb. 7, 1871. f Timothy Bunkei:, Esq. 
Ogden Farm Papers— No. 16. 
I have, in my time, lost two good “ native ” 
cows by milk-fever, and I have seen enough 
fatality from this dreadful disease among my 
neighbors’ cattle to have made me fear it more 
than any non-contagious ailment that ever ap¬ 
peared in a herd, and to give some attention to 
studying its character aud treatment. The first 
result of my examination was a conviction that 
the worst thing to be done in the premises, is to 
call in the assistance of a country cow-doctor, 
with his drugs and lancet—and the best, to leave 
nature the fullest control of the case ; adopting 
always such aids as warmth, quiet, and cleanli¬ 
ness, aud, above all, the utmost care of the diet 
as a 'preventive measure. 
It is reported that cures have been effected 
when the disease has progressed so far that the 
animal can no longer rise, but I have never seen 
such a case, nor would I have much faith in re¬ 
covery at this stage under any form of treat¬ 
ment—least of all under the violent handling of 
common farriers, who know nothing beyond 
the recipes of a school, whose science is sealed 
to them, aud who lack the judgment of its 
trained practitioners. I would always appeal to 
a sensible physician rather than to a cow-doc¬ 
tor; but the latter is often an excellent nurse, 
and will be a valuable aid to the physician, if 
he can only be made to leave his lancet and his 
bottles at home. The worst thing about the 
country farrier — after his remedies — is his 
“ gab.” He always “ knows all about it; ” and 
he has a power to bully a farmer (who knows 
nothing himself, and who is helpless to prevent 
the death of his beast) that is difficult to resist. 
But it must be resisted or all is lost. 
As most farmers are so situated that they 
cannot procure proper aid for the treatment of 
such sudden and severe illness, it will be well 
for them to know what to do to avoid it, and, 
so far as it is in their power, to help nature to 
cure the disease when it does arise. The great 
safety lies in prevention. 
From three days to a month before the calv¬ 
ing time—longer with a large milker or a fleshy 
animal than with a small milker or a lean one— 
stop all feed except dry hay ; if there is much 
milk in the bag, milk it half out three times a 
day, even two or three days before calving; if 
the bag is hot and hard, rub it every hour with 
the hand wet with cool water. After the calf is 
born, give the cow half a pailful of warm water 
with a little bran or flour in it, not hot and not 
too much. Give absolutely nothing beyond this 
one drink, and nowand then a little warm, pure 
water, for twenty-four hours. The great source 
of danger is in food given before or soon after 
calving. There is no safeguard like starvation 
—and nothing will so surely prevent fever. On 
the second day give a warm mash—a pailful 
this time—and about a quarter ration of hay. 
The next day give a half ration. Until after the 
fourth day do not give even cool water to drink, 
nor so much hay as the cow would like, nor any 
other food whatever. The danger will now be 
passed, if the food is gradually increased in 
quantity and in richness. Another week of 
good feeding will bring the milk to its full flow. 
If the calf is removed at once, the cow should 
he milked from three to six times a day, accord¬ 
ing to the quantity of milk in her bag, until 
after the fourth day, and then gradually reduced 
to the regular milkings. I think'ten drops of 
tincture of aconite on a bit of bread given once 
a day until the milk flows regularly would add' 
very much to the security of the treatment. 
But the great cause of the fever is kindness. Wo 
