373 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[October,. 
In Germany the favorite cross is between the 
Cotswold and Merino, and at the Vienna Exposition 
of 1873 many specimens from some large flocks of 
these cross-bred sheep were exhibited. They were 
the in-and-in bred produce of the first cross, and 
weighed at 14 months old, when they were usually 
marketed, 140 to 148 lbs. alive. The mutton of 
these sheep was highly valued, the sheep selling at 
8 cents a pound live weight, after having been 
sheared. Their wool is much finer and is more 
thickly set on the skin than that of the Cotswold, 
and is in good demand for the worsted and clothing 
manufactures. In these successful efforts at cross¬ 
breeding there is certainly encouragement for our 
breeders to attempt to meet the growing demand 
for these improved sheep, of which we have room 
for more than two or three classes. 
Walks and Talks on the Farm—No. 142. 
[COPYRIGHT SECURED.] 
Thrashing by steam more than met my expecta¬ 
tions. We thrashed in the field. The engine 
will burn either wood or coal. We used wood. 
We drew two cords of four-foot wood to the ma¬ 
chine, and set up a circular saw. As 60 on as we 
had 10 or 15 pounds of steam, a belt was put on, 
and we sawed the wood into short lengths at a 
lively rate. We were getting up steam at the same 
time, and thought this much better than sawing by 
hand. We commenced thrashing with 80 pounds 
of steam. It was a ten-horse-power engine. It 
thrashes no faster than a horse machine, but it does 
not get tired, and keeps up a steadier motion, and 
is under more immediate control. 
In thrashing as you draw in from the field, the 
only difficulty is in gathering up the rakings. I 
had the field raked, and the rakings put into cock 
before we commenced, and kept the steel horse- 
rake going after the wagons while we were drawing 
in, 60 that everything was cleaned up as we went 
along, and when we were through we were through, 
and the whole field done, and the work finished. I 
had three teams and four wagons. We put on a 
load of rakings, and drew it up to the machine, 
and let it stand there without horses, to commence 
on, and sent the other wagons to pick up rakings. 
In drawing sheaves, one good pitcher and three 
wagons, will keep the machine going. One wagon 
( A ) is at the machine ; another wagon ( B ) has just 
been unloaded, and is going on its way to the 
pitcher; while the other (C) is being loaded. 
By the time C is loaded, B is right behind it, 
with the ladder up, and the driver ready for the 
sheaves, while C starts off for the machine. As 
soon as A is unloaded, C is at the machine, 
ready to take its place, and A drives off to the 
pitcher. It gets there just as B is loaded and 
ready to start for the machine. 
It requires one man to pitch, a boy to rake, and 
(in my case) a man to cock up rakings, and pitch 
on a load of rakings, or pitch a little on to a wagon 
whenever it reached the pitcher before the other 
load was finished. Three men to load, drive, and 
unload. A man to cut bands. Two men on the 
straw stack. A boy to hold bags and tie them, and 
another to draw the grain home, with another man 
to lend a helping hand as occasion requires. In 
other words, we require twelve men or boys, be¬ 
sides the four men who go with the machine. 
In thrashing barley, I was in doubt as to which 
was the better plan, to pitch the gavels or bundles 
as left by the reaper, directly on to the wagon with 
barley forks, or to first put the barley into cock. 
I tried both plans. I cocked up half the field, and 
had it raked between the cocks, and the rakings 
put into cocks before we commenced. This I 
found decidedly the better plan. With a fair crop 
of barley, put into nice cocks, two good men will 
pitch as fast as the machine can thrash; but in 
picking up the gavels with barley forks, it was all 
that four pitchers could do to keep the machine 
going. Until better advised, I shall always cock 
my barley in future. When we have, as we soon 
shall have, a good machine to bind, it will of course 
be better to bind our barley into sheaves ; but when 
left loose, it is better to make it into good-sized 
cocks. But the real poiut in managing barley, is 
to grow a good heavy crop, with plenty of straw. 
Then, with good weather, harvesting and thrash¬ 
ing barley is easy and pleasant work. But a poor, 
light crop of barley, on cloddy or weedy land, is 
difficult to cut, hard to rake up clean, and a nui¬ 
sance generally. My crop this year, owing to the 
severe drouth in May, was not as good as I expect¬ 
ed, especially on the clayey parts of the field. I 
had 840 bushels from 28 acres. We thrashed out 
480 bushels on Saturday afternoon—commencing 
at 2 P. m., stopping 15 or 20 minutes for lunch, 
and stopping at 7:45 P. M. We had to work 
lively to get the barley to the machine, but I do 
not think the machine waited ten minutes for us, 
altogether. 
The Squire had anew Hubbard Reaper, and he sent 
his machine around to help me. Another neigh¬ 
bor had a Buckeye Reaper, and his son brought it 
to the field, and for some time we had four reapers 
going. The Deacon came along and was invited 
to act as Judge, but declined the honor. I watched 
the working of the different machines as they fol¬ 
lowed each other round and round the field. I 
could see very little difference in the smoothness 
of the cut, or the evenness of the bundles. They 
all did good work, except on a few clay spots, 
where the barley was very short and thin. None 
of them cut up the barley entirely clean on these 
spots, and we had to leave a little for the sheep and 
pigs. But where the barley was anything like a 
good crop, and no matter how heavy it was, or 
how badly lodged, as was the case where we had 
some mangel pits, the machines worked to perfec¬ 
tion. If there is any choice between these ma¬ 
chines, it must be sought in the ease and simpli¬ 
city of regulating the higlit of cut, or the dip of 
the cutter-bar, or of adapting the rakes to high, 
short, light, or lodged straw. The truth is, our 
mowing and reaping machines, so far as doing the 
work is concerned, are about perfect. I was quite 
amused with the talk of the four drivers, when we 
stopped to examine and compare the different 
machines. Each man thought his machine the 
best. And in fact, when a man gets used to a ma¬ 
chine, and has confidence in it, and knows how to 
regulate it, that is the best machine for him. The 
new Hubbard machine is very light, and easily 
managed, and does good work. By changing horses 
and keeping them at a lively walk, the man cuts 15 
acres of barley with it in one.day. 
My old Johnston Reaper is held in great honor 
on my farm. It is a very strong, powerful ma¬ 
chine, made for the English and European market, 
and designed for cutting heavy crops of lodged 
grain. I have a special affection for it. I think it 
is six years ago since I first heard of the machine. 
I had a great crop of oats and peas that year, 
which were twisted and lodged, with the upper 
parts of the pea vine still green and growing. I set 
six men to cut them with short Winsted scythes. 
It was hard work and slow, half an acre being as 
much as a man could do in a day. A farmer in the 
neighborhood told me that there was a machine 
made at Brockport, that would cut these peas, and 
the next day Mr. Johnston and two of his associates 
brought a machine to see what they could do. The 
machine was started, but clogged up. Mr. John¬ 
ston took a fork and tried to keep the platform 
clear. They managed to get round the field, Mr. 
Johnston evidently trying to find out where the 
trouble was. I was sorry for his disappointment, 
and said, “ You need not feel bad about it. It is 
asking too much of any machine to cut such a tan¬ 
gled mass of green stuff as this.”—“Can we go round 
the field once more ? ” he asked.—“ Certainly,” I re¬ 
plied, “ do just what you like,” and the team start¬ 
ed round again, with Mr. Johnston calmly and 
thoughtfully watching every motion. “ That will 
do,” said he, as they came round to the gate, “it 
is no use trying more to-day.”—I thought he had 
given up the matter, but lie had simply discovered 
where the trouble was.—“I can doit yet,” he said, 
quietly and modestly.—And sure enough, after tak¬ 
ing some part of the machine to the factory, and 
making the necessary change, we put on the horses 
for another trial. The six men were cutting in the 
field. The machine was thrown into gear, the horses 
started, the fingers pushed under the peas close to 
the ground, the knives played rapidly back and 
forth, the rakes picked up the laid crop, and every 
other one was allowed to rake off the platform. It 
took me a few seconds to comprehend what we 
were doing. I could hardly realize the fact that 
there , right before my eyes, was a machine actually 
cutting that tangled mass of greeu peas and oats, 
and raking it into the desired bundles, and doing 
the work rapidly and better than we could do it by 
hand. But such was the case. On went the ma¬ 
chine. The six men put up their scythes. Their 
occupation was gone—or rather changed. For it is ’ 
a fact, that a successful machine creates a demand 
for more labor. I employ no fewer men. But in¬ 
stead of mowing peas, they' are hoeing mangels ot 
cultivating corn-fodder. I have not had the pleas- 
use of seeing Mr. Johnston from that day to this. 
His machine has been greatly improved, and has 
triumphed gloriously in many a hotly contested 
field, at home and abroad, but I have an affection 
for that old, weather beaten machine, which works 
as well to-day as it did then, and which I rarely 
look at without thinking what a grand thing it is 
for mind to triumph over matter—for brains to 
make the horse or steam engine do the work of 
human muscle on the farm. 
I propose to make this old machine cut my corn- 
fodder this fall. If it was sown broadcast, it 
would cut it easily. But I should no more think 
of sowing corn broadcast, than I should think of. 
sowing mangels, or beans, or potatoes broadcast. 
It needs cultivating. All the broadcast corn I have 
seen this year, is now yellow, and is drying up,, 
while mine, though it curls a little during the day, 
is growing luxuriantly, and promises a heavy crop. 
I think the machine will cut it, but I am not very 
confident. If it won’t, our inventors must turn 
their attention to the matter. 
It is twenty-five years ago this month, since I 
wrote my first article for the old Genesee Farmer. 
And I have been writing every month since. I 
have just looked over that old article. I was fresh 
from the great experimental farm of Lawes & Gil¬ 
bert, and the article embodied some of their most 
important results. The burden of it was, raise 
more clover, peas, and beans, keep more stock, and 
make more manure. I say the same thing to-day, 
only 1 should put first, “ cultivate the land more 
thoroughly, and kill the weeds.”—I thought then, 
that wheat, barley, oats, corn, and other cereals,, 
during their growth gave off nitrogen into the at¬ 
mosphere, while clover, peas, beans, vetches, and 
turnips retained all the nitrogen they got from the 
soil and from dews and rains. The theory was 
simple and plausible, and the practical deduction 
safe and sound. But more recent investigations 
failed to sustain this view. The advantage of 
growing more clover, peas, and other leguminous 
plants, however, is as certain as ever. And I 
could say nothing more to-day, than I said then in 
regard to the advantages of feeding food rich in 
nitrogen to stock, and saving the manure. But it 
is well to forget the things that are behind, and 
press forward. There is more to be done, and more 
improvements to be made during the next twenty- 
five years, than were made in the past twenty-five. 
We have better implements, better roads, better 
stock, and better prices. I sold barley from this 
farm twenty-five years ago for 371 cts. per bushel. 
Now I can get §1.10. Combing wool was not worth 
over 25 cents a pound. Now it is worth 50 to 60 
cents. I sold a lot of splendid butter to go round 
the Cape in a sailing vessel to California, for 121 
cents a pound, and it got there safe and in good 
condition. 1 will uot say it was as good as the 
gilt-edged Jersey butter, which now brings a dol¬ 
lar a pound, but at any rate such butter would sell 
for three or four times as much as it brought then. 
Pork, and good beef, and choice mutton have 
doubled in price, and so have eggs, poultry, and 
fruit. Let us be thankful. The indications point all 
in one direction, and I see clearly written out on the 
years to come, “ Cash for good farmers,”—“Good 
fanning will pay better in the future, than in the 
