AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
SS7 
18t39-3 
possible. The cocks should he turned over occasional¬ 
ly and opened if necessary. The crop should not bo 
drawn in until it is thoroughly cured. The field should 
he carefully raked with a steel rake, and it is well to 
do this ns soon ns the crop is drawn into windrows 
—running the rake lengthwise between the windrows. 
When the srop is of medium growth the neatest way 
of harvesting it is to cut it with a combined mowing 
machine, with the platform of the reaper attached. A 
man rides on the machine and gathers the crop as cut, on 
the platform, until he has as much as it will carry, and 
then he throws it off with the rake. These bunches are 
turned over oeeasionaily until cured. They are then 
loaded on to a wagon and the land on which they laid is 
raked with a hand rake. If cured in cocks the lmy would 
be more valuable. Ordinarily the hunches arc allowed 
to lie exposed to the rain and sun, and in this case the 
fodder is spoiled. When the crop is very light, it cannot 
he cut in the manner describejl above, for the reason 
that the platform of the reaper will not allow the cutter- 
bar to run close enough to the ground. Last year onr 
crop of clover, owing to the drought, was very short,—not 
more than six inches high; but it was well filled and we 
thought it worth the trouble of gathering. This wo 
succeeded in doing with little expense as follows: 
We had a.Wood’s Mower, on the finger-bar of which 
there are three cast-iron clamps for keeping the cutter- 
liar in place. Wc got two pieces of sheet-iron, about four 
feet long, and had them riveted together. By loosing the 
bolts of the three clamps on the finger-bar wo could slip 
the iron under them, when they wore screwed down 
tight, again, and this held our extempore sheet-iron plat¬ 
form in its place. We bent it up over the grass divider 
and a little on the opposite side, and put a wire from 
the hind corner to the frame of the machine, to steady it. 
A man followed the machine with a rake and kept the 
clover oil this sheet-iron platform as it run on the ground, 
and when he had got a good-sized bunch pulled it 
off. In this way wc cut over forty acres of clover seed 
that it would otherwise have been difficult or impossible 
to gather. If there is no intention of saving the clover 
straw for fodder there is no necessity of paying much 
attention to curing the crop. The oftener it is thorough¬ 
ly wet and dried again, the easier it will thrash. It is 
desirable to have it thoroughly dry when drawn in. It 
should bo put in the barn, as clover seed is one of the 
worst crops to secure from rain in a stack. We usually 
thrash in winter, selecting, if possible, dry, frosty weather. 
We have excellent machines for thrashing and hulling 
it. and the owners furnish four horses and three or four 
men, and thrash and clean tile seed all ready for market 
for 75 cents to $1 a bushel. The yield varies from one 
bushel to seven bushels per acre, three bushels being 
an average crop. Now that wc can do all the work with 
machinery it is one of the most profitable crops we raise, 
in proportion to its cost. 
- -tBB-r- *—<j»-- 
Eoa&s and Road-making 1 .—Ho. 2. 
Wc discussed the subject of road-making in 
the July Agriculturist, taking the ground tiiat 
the surest way to have good country roads is to 
break up altogether Ihe present system of hav¬ 
ing them worked by districts, and by the inhab¬ 
itants. They may be worked by contract, or 
bv a good practical man who has some knowl¬ 
edge of surveying ami engineering, and who 
may he employed upon a good salary by the 
town, furnished labor, teams, tools, etc. This 
plan works well. 
Next to having good roads it is desirable to 
have pleasant ones. There is certainly great 
pleasure to most people in the mere driving 
along upon a line, hard, well-graded road, free 
from stones, wet spots, and sandy stretches. But 
to almost every one the pleasure is greatly en¬ 
hanced by the grass and brooks, the woods and 
trees of all sorts along the highway, to say 
nothing of the views near at hand, nor of the 
distant prospects. Country roads arc not used 
for pleasure-riding a great deal, except in the 
neighborhood of large towns; nevertheless, 
though ever so much inclined not to sacrifice 
utility to beauty, we must mildly protest against 
these long, straight stretches of highway, which 
always are as monotonous and dreary as the 
character of the country will allow. It requires 
but a very slight accommodation of the road to 
the natural levels of even as flat a piece of 
prairie as one can readily find, to give just, 
crooks enough to a road, on the whole very di¬ 
rect, to relieve the tediousness of travel for bus¬ 
iness or pleasure upon a perfectly straight road. 
Few are aware how very slightly the distance 
is increased, and how much pleasanter the road 
becomes, for having just turns enough in it to pre¬ 
vent more than perhaps one-eighth of a mile along 
the road being in view at anyone time. In the 
distant country, where every thing bends to util¬ 
ity*, we do not wonder that generation after gen¬ 
eration lay out the roads from point to point as 
direct as possible; but in suburban districts, 
where the object of opening new roads is to 
develop building sites, and to attract dwellers 
in the town to the country, at least for the sum¬ 
mer, one of the great at tractions being the abili¬ 
ty to take pleasure and relaxation in driving, it 
seems inexplicable that people should not be 
contented unless they lay out new roads with¬ 
out a bend in them for miles and miles. Wher¬ 
ever such roads have been long in use, it is 
found that pleasure parties always shun them, 
unless the choice of the direction be left with 
the driver. The shady, crooked roads among 
old farm-houses, and those through wooded 
swales and shady dells, are sought out, and 
here one meets the stylish equipages of tlie rich, 
the old family one-horse barouche with its load 
of happy children, well mounted riding par¬ 
ties, and all those who enjoy the country for its 
own sake, and who drive or ride for some other 
purpose than showing off fast horses. 
Wc object also to very broad roads. Every 
road should be broad enough for three wagons 
to roll abreast, but no road should be broader 
than it can be well taken cure of. What is 
there beautiful or useful in a Westchester Co. 
“Boulevard” (the fashionable name now), 100 
feet wide, with a winding wagon track in the 
middle, or near it, and a wilderness of black¬ 
berry briers and poke-weed for 15 or 20 feet on 
each side? A country roadj 40 feet wide, is 
wide enough for use ; if 50 feet wide, tlie road 
must be well looked after by adjoining proprie¬ 
tors, or it will be lined with a thicket of under¬ 
brush and a nursery of weeds. A road 00 feet 
wide is very handsome, if well cared for, and it 
appears generous and liberal; but it is so much 
of a tax to maintain it in good order that ii is a 
risky tiling to lay one out, except in very thick¬ 
ly settled neighborhoods. 
•--»-« -n a^ a» *-*■»--—• 
Sefton Pigs—In-and-in Breeding. 
In a previous number we have alluded to the 
Sefton swine, and our own experience with 
them. We have now another litter to report, 
and this closes the account. The total result 
in this second generation was one small pig 
(with a defective lip and an undeveloped jaw)— 
which lived only a fe\V days. The probability 
is that our poor achievement is in no way dis¬ 
creditable to the Seftons as a breed ,—only an 
illustration of the ill effects of close-breeding. 
So far as we can learn, all the Seftons in the 
country are descended from animals (possibly 
from a single pair) imported from England by 
a single person. The original stock is reported 
to be of great excellence, producing large lit¬ 
ters of fine pigs, and there can be no doubt (thi3 
fact being admitted) that the ill success of re¬ 
cent experiments is due only to the want of 
fresh blood. This idea is partly demonstrated 
by the fact, that our Sefton boar, although evi¬ 
dently affected in both size and form by the 
relationship of his progenitor, gels remarkably 
fine pigs when crossed with sows of other breeds, 
Were it possible to procure a fresh infusion of 
blood by importation from England, wo should 
not hesitate to recommend the breeding of these 
swine. It is.said (but the story has an unrelia¬ 
ble look), that the Earl of Sefton, who origina¬ 
ted the breed, desiring to keep it entirely to 
himself, never allows the animals to leave his 
place alive, and that lie only once “suspended 
the rules” and gave a pair ef pigs to an Amer¬ 
ican ship-master. From this pair, our stock is 
descended. If others can be obtained from the 
fountain-head, it is very likely that a belter 
breed than any we now have will be introduced, 
but if we are to look only to the stock now in 
the country, it is not probable that they can he 
brought, up to the standard of the Chester Whites, 
which is thus far The Great American Pig. 
Tim Bunker on Farmers’ Losses and 
Trials. 
“ There’s nothing like having both sides of a 
question,” said Uncle Jolham Sparrowgrass, as 
lie struck his old cane upon the gravel, and 
looked Parson Spooner straight in the eve. 
“You see, there was Ned Woodhull, over 
on the Island, more than thirty years ago, who 
edited the Peconic Eagle, and wrote poetry, in 
prose and verse, on the blessings of rural life. 
The fellow had never spent a night in the city, 
and never seen any thing bigger than Sag 
Harbor in his life. He’d never been out of sight 
of cow pastures, or out, of the smell of Bony- 
fish, and what did he know about the purple 
and fine linen they have in the city ? To hear 
Ned talk, when lie got into one of his highfal- 
lutin strains, you’d think the kingdom had 
come, and the new heavens was set up on the 
cast end of Long Island. There was no end to 
the notes of his bugle on the pinks and roses, 
the violets and posies, but I did not see many 
of them in the farmers’ yards, and I did smell 
Bony-fish six months in the year, and sometimes 
there was ’most too much of a good thing.” 
“Good thing!” eelioed Jake Frink, “I should 
like to know what good thing any body with 
two eyes in his head can see about farming. 
I’d sell out to-morrow if I had a chance, and 
there was anything else a fellow could do. Ye 
see, it has been an uncommon hard season so 
far. Ye see, tew cows slunk their calves, atul 
the only wonder was why the oilier cows 
didn’t. Then Aunt Polly is generally great on 
turkeys, but the only great thing in the poultry 
line this year was tiie slaughter the foxes made 
among them. They killed turn turkeys and 
their young ones and six geese in one night. 
The skunks got at the setting ducks’ nests, and 
broke them up, and the weasels pitched into 
the chickens right and left. Polly was down 
in the mouth, depend on’t. No, Uncle Jotliam, 
there’s no music in farming any way you can 
fix it. If I had a hand-organ and a monkey I’d 
strike out to-morrow, and dit smilin’.” 
“ I’d give tew cents to hear you play," said 
Tucker. 
“ The jubilee music wouldn’t be a touch to 
it,” said Jones, with his broadest grin. 
“I have had dreadful luck with my pigs this 
spring,” said Seth Twiggs, with a puff of smoke 
as blue as his face. “Ye see, I bought a big 
sow with pig, and give fifty dollars, thinkin’ I’d 
make a spec, which was an easy calculation 
with pigs at ten dollars apiece. I calculated on 
thirteen pigs. She had ’em, but the beast, lav 
on five, and eat up lew, and there’s only six 
left, which takes off the profits.” 
“ Sow about those tkree-dollars-a-pound pq. 
