1870.J 
51 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
of the laud, and the contributions of the atmos¬ 
phere does much of the work, and each time the 
manure is applied to the ground it produces 
larger crops, and these crops produce in their 
turn more manure, so that we go on with a 
constantly increasing proportion, and the more 
frequently we can apply the manure, (and ap¬ 
ply it to rapidly growiug crops, which are at 
once consumed,) the more rapidly we can turn 
our capital (making a profit each time) and the 
faster will our substance grow'. 
This' reasoning points very clearly to the 
“soiling” of the farm stock—of which, more 
hereafter—because the most luxuriant vegeta¬ 
tion may be grown, and be economically con¬ 
sumed within a short time. Instead of spread¬ 
ing manure over the whole of a pasture field— 
getting its effect slowly throughout the whole 
season—we apply it all to a small area, pro¬ 
duce abundant crops, feed these out as soon as 
grown, and return the manure they make at 
once to the land. In this way it is possible to 
use the same fertilizing elements twice in a sin¬ 
gle year. Of course this may happen in pastur¬ 
ing, but not so regularly. 
If the production of home-made manure is 
of vital importance to the success of a farmer, 
it is of great consequence to him to produce 
this cheaply, to store it safely, and to apply it 
economically. These questions all had much 
consideration in making the original plans for 
the management of Ogden Farm. According 
to the recognized value of stable manure in this 
locality, the solid and liquid excrement of a 
good common cow, if kept under cover—the 
cow being fed in the stall the year through,— 
must be worth $50 a year; and this, added to 
the valu,e of her milk (say 2,500 quarts, at 5 
cents), would make $175, which would more 
than pay for the cost of food and attendance. 
Consequently, if a thorough-bred cow, of any 
race, could be substituted for common cows, so 
that the calves would have a value, the fertiliz¬ 
ing of the farm by the consumption of pur¬ 
chased food would be attended with a profit. 
This point being settled, the next was to decide 
on the kind of cows to keep. Should it be 
Shorthorns for beef, Ayrshires for milk, or 
Jerseys for butter? The Ayrshires were the 
first dropped from the list, because, in keep¬ 
ing them, I should have been obliged to run a 
milk rvagon to the city at least once a day, and 
I might not find a constant market, at full 
prices, for my whole production, in a place 
which nearly doubles its population during 
three months of the year. I was sorry to give 
them up, for they are handsome animals, and 
abundant milkers. Shorthorns had the at¬ 
traction of the possibility of getting high prices 
for the increase. Mr. Sheldon’s sales of Ameri¬ 
can animals in England, at fabulous prices, and 
the $3,000 a friend had just paid fora yearling 
bull, made me wonder how it -would seem if 
Ogden Farm and its herd should ever get the 
reputation that brings such prices; but the 
temptation had a streak of the gambling ele¬ 
ment in it. If the large prices were realized, it 
would be smooth sailing, but if the carcasses 
had to be sold for beef prices, and the cows 
proved not to be of “ milking families,” it 
would be up-hill work to build up a herd of 
these heavy weights. They would probably be 
less valuable for milk than the Ayrshires, and 
New England is not the country to make beef in. 
I settled on the Jerseys for the following reasons: 
1. They are, essential^, butter cows. I be¬ 
lieve they will make more butter from a given 
amount of food than any other bseed, and I 
know that the butter is better. It “comes” 
sooner, requires less working, is less likely to 
fail in quality from mismanagement in working, 
and has a much better texture and color than 
the butter of any other cow. This “reason” 
is important to all farmers who make butter. 
2 . I have a good market the year round for 
good butter, and a “fancy” market from May un¬ 
til October ; and, by the help of the express com¬ 
panies, I can follow my customers to their city 
homes. This argument was a convincing one 
in my particular case, and its force has been 
shown by the fact that I receive for my whole 
production 75 cents in summer, and (after de¬ 
ducting expressage) 65 cents in winter. How 
good it -would be for other farmers, must depend 
on their ability to deliver their butter to cus¬ 
tomers who are willing to pay an extra price 
for extra quality; but it applies more widely 
than wgmld at first be thought. 
3. “Alderney” veal is in demaSd in Newport 
in the summer at an extra price, which helps 
out the disposition of surplus bull calves. 
4. The Jerseys are growing in favor as farm 
cows as well as for family use, and it is safe to 
count on an extra price of from $50 to $100, or 
more, for heifer calves. 
5. From their long habit of confinement — 
having been for centuries either tied in the stall 
or tethered in the field, from infancy to old age, 
and having learned to thrive under the treat¬ 
ment—they are exactly adapted for soiling in 
comparatively limited quarters. 
As com , for butter only, they would pay bet¬ 
ter than any others, and butter would always be 
sure of a fair market. To offset their high cost 
(for it does cost frightfully to fill a dozen stalls 
with Herd-book Jerseys), I had the chance of a 
good sale for progeny, also at high prices, and 
the certainty of a fancy price for butter. So, 
viewed from every side, the Jerseys are adopt¬ 
ed, and I have had every reason to be satisfied 
with my decision. Butrit is not to be forgotten 
that manure , and not fancy stock, was the point 
aimed at. The Jerseys, beautiful animals 
though they be, are, in the case of Ogden 
Farm, only a means of fertility. Everything 
else is incidental to their duty of conveying a 
large amount of food into the barn-cellar, re¬ 
taining enough, as it goes, in the form of butter 
and calves, to pay expenses. The object being 
rich land, as the foundation of all riches, the 
ability to produce the largest possible crops takes 
the precedence of all else; and if, while the 
land is being made rich, the cows will barely 
pay running expenses, the operation will prove 
a success; of course the chances are that they 
will do much more than this; and when the 
farm is able to carry a full stock without buying 
food, the income will be as large from these 
cows as it could be from any other form of farm 
industry by which the condition of the farm 
could be maintained. 
If I had only known early in the autumn that 
good hay could be bought this winter for $10 
per ton 1 I would have bought a hundred 
steers, putting up rough sheds to keep them in, 
and would have cut and steamed (for them and 
my present stock) 300 tons during the winter, 
depositing this quantity of hay in my agricul¬ 
tural bank, to be drawn out at a future day at 
$25, or to be kept on hand as active capital. 
But then what glorious business farming would 
be if we could always know how prices would 
range three months ahead ! 
1 am cutting and steaming about three tons 
a week now, and I am able to give an opinion as 
to the result, but no definite figures as yet. My 
apparatus includes a very neat and simple sta¬ 
tionary engine, of the Norwalk pattern, (which 
is managed by a corner of my own eye, and the 
whole soul of Hindcrck, my imported German 
apprentice, aged fifteen years, of whom the 
readers of the Agriculturist will know better 
things as he grows older,) a tubular boiler that 
is just a little too big for its work,—as all steam 
boilers should be,—a Cummings’ Cutter, and 
(for the present) a steaming chest, with a ca¬ 
pacity of only 56 cubic feet. 
We cut a week’s supply of hay in three 
hours, and while that work is going on, the 
whole labor force of the farm is kept on the 
jump. It is done so quickly that it seems 
hardly worth while to keep a steam-engine to 
do it, until we recall the straining, and drag¬ 
ging, and interruptions of our last winter horse¬ 
power work, and consider how vastly better, 
as well as more quickly, the work is now done. 
We are using, now, about equal parts of two- 
year-old-hay, which was not very good when it 
was new, and has not improved in the stack 
since then, and “cured” oats, cut green, cured 
in the rain and fog, and both mow-burnt and 
mouldy. It is altogether an unsavory, smoky 
lot, and would ordinarily be used for bedding. 
With this we cut a little corn fodder, the whole 
being chopped very short, and thoroughly 
mixed in the operation. Twelve bushels of 
this chop are thoroughly wetted in a trough, 
and mixed with ten quarts of wheat bran. 
Thirteen such troughfuls are packed into the 
steaming chest, the cover is keyed down, and 
the steam is turned on at a pressure anywhere 
from 10 lbs. to 00 lbs. to the square inch, accord¬ 
ing to the accumulation in the boiler. At the 
higher pressure, the whole mass is heated up, 
and hot steam forces its waj r out under the 
cover of the chest within ten or twelve minutes. 
With the lower pressure, half an hour or more 
is required. Whenever hot steam escapes (scald¬ 
ing hot), the whole mass is heated up and xcill 
cook itself, (on the principle of the Norwegian 
cooking apparatus.) The chest being interlined 
with sawdust, the heat is retained, and accom¬ 
plishes its work. Until the whole mass is heat¬ 
ed up, the steam will be greatly cooled off. 
Steam at 00 lbs. pressure must raise the hay to 
a temperature considerably above that of boil¬ 
ing water. There is no danger of bursting the 
box, as a very slight leak is sufficient to relievo 
it, but I am disposed to think that a woolen 
blanket over the upper opening would be as ef¬ 
fective as a stouter cover, if it is close enough 
to prevent too rapid cooling off. 
Almost as soon as the steam is turned on, an 
odor, as of baked bread, or roasted bran, fills 
the room, and this odor is, of course, diffused 
throughout the cut feed, making it palatable. 
If possible,we keep the chest closed from night 
until morning,—always for two hours after the 
steam is turned off. If not opened for even 
thirty-six hours, the whole contents will be® 
found scalding hot. 
And now for the result. I have fed in this 
way, since about the first of December, all of 
my mules, horses, colts, oxen, cows, and calves 
—equal to forty head, full grown. I never saw 
the best hay eaten up so clean, and I never saw 
a more thrifty lot of stock. They never get 
anything else (save grain to the horses) at any 
time through the day, and if they are not over¬ 
fed, the only thing left is the joint bits of the 
corn-stalks. Mould and mow-burning are en¬ 
tirely overcome, and I believe that the woody 
fibre of the old hay, which could not be digest- 
