1870 .] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
19 
when the whole concern, farm, stock, implements 
and investments are to he sold at public auction. 
This will afford almost the only opportunity 
possible for determining the extent to which the 
operation has actually made or lost money. 
The amount of profit to be divided, or the 
amount of loss to be made up will be the best 
test as to whether the work at Ogden Farm has 
been practical farming or not, for if it does not 
pay it cannot be considered practical. It is 
proper to say here that the land is so situated 
that it is not likely to acquire a “ fancy” value 
as building sites, and any increase in price from 
natural causes will be shared by all farmers in 
the better settled parts of New England. 
At the same time we shall, no doubt, make 
some money from sources that are not open to 
all farmers. If we did not, we would be emi¬ 
nently unpractical, for we have some oppor¬ 
tunities that others have not—offset by some 
temptations to extravagant expenditure from 
which others are free; and, in considering the 
whole question, it becomes necessary to define 
what is a “ practical farmer.” I give that name 
oidy to the farmer who makes the utmost of 
every advantage he has or can get. A man may 
rise with the lark and work until dark; may be 
the best plowman, the best stock-feeder, and 
the best foreman in the world, and yet, if he 
lets his manure heap slip through his fingers, 
or raises corn when he should or could raise 
roots, or raises grass when he should raise corn, 
or buys costly tools and leaves them to rust and 
rot away out of doors, or invests money in bank 
stocks when he should invest it on his farm, 
or cultivates wet land which he might drain, 
or keeps poor stock when he might keep good, 
or sells in a poor market because he had not 
informed himself as to a better one, or cultivates 
two acres to get a crop he might more cheaply 
raise from one, or does any one of a dozen other 
things that many farmers do, as a matter of 
course, lie cannot be called a practical farmer. A 
man who cultivates his farm and does not at the 
same time cultivate his mind, is a very unprac¬ 
tical farmer, for his wits , if well brightened and 
shrewdly used, are worth, as a source of in¬ 
come, more than all his teams and tools. The 
only way to be practical is to make every acre, 
every hour, and every faculty, what we know 
and all that we can find out, tell on the final 
money result, and on the increased money-produc¬ 
ing power of the farm. Farming is a business, and 
its success is to be measured by the money it 
makes—as is the success of any other business. 
Ogden Farm was taken in hand September 
6th, 1867, when its sixty acres were divided 
into eight fields, besides the orchards, garden, 
yards, etc., about the house and barn, these con¬ 
taining some four acres. There was not a field 
on the whole farm that was not oozing with 
water for a fortnight after every rain, not one 
that would produce a ton of fair hay to the 
acre, not one that would, after deducting the 
cost of manure and cultivation, pay the interest 
on its value. The outgoing tenant could not 
pay his rent, and “ Poverty Farm ” could not 
have found another tenant who could afford to 
pay the taxes. The buildings on the place were 
not worth $500, and not one of the interior fences 
would turn an enterprising calf. It was in one 
sense a most unpromising place, but it was one 
on which the judicious expenditure of money 
offered the best results, for the land was 
“ strong,” smooth, and free from large stones. 
Newport, a good market, is only four miles dis¬ 
tant by a good road. The beach (from which 
sand and sea-weed are procured) is only two 
miles away. If it would pay to improve any 
farm it would pay to improve this one. So the 
work was vigorously commenced; the whole 
place was underdrained with tiles, an excellent 
large barn was built, the house was remodeled 
and made comfortable, and other necessary 
buildings were put up. The interior fences are 
removed (or soon will be), so as to throw the 
eight original fields into one, which is divided 
(by imaginary lines only) into six sections of 
nine and a quarter acres each. In this manner 
unnecessary headlands are dispensed with, and 
short furrows in plowing are avoided. 
All this has cost money, and as yet the result 
bears a trifling proportion to the outlay. But 
it is too early yet to speak of results, the only 
point aimed at is to secure the best result at the 
end of the ten years, and, in that view, what is 
now most necessary is to put the whole farm on 
such a footing that its producing power may 
speedily become as large as possible without 
calling for an injudicious expenditure of capi¬ 
tal. The draining is complete, and it would be 
difficult to find a heavy soil any where that can 
be worked sooner after a hard rain, or which 
better shows the effect of manure; but fully one- 
half of the land is in other respects unimproved, 
and only about eight acres of it is in what 
may be called excellent condition. From the 
growth of the past season, I have no doubt that 
this eight acres, devoted exclusively to soiling 
crops, would fully support twenty cows from 
May 15 to Oct. 15. When the whole farm is in 
like condition, (and it was originally all of the 
same character) it will produce enough to sup¬ 
ply fifty cows and four horses with their entire 
summer and winter food. Nor do I believe 
this will be the end, for the manure of these 
animals reapplied to the land on which their 
food was grown cannot fail to increase its fertil¬ 
ity until the produce is only limited by the 
labor at command, and by the quantity that can 
stand on the ground—and I know of no 
instance in farming in which this limit has 
been attained on any considerable area. 
Draining was of the first consideration in 
the work of improvement, but hardly second to 
it in importance was the question of Manure, 
and this gave me much perplexity. As a gen¬ 
eral rule, it is the wisest course for beginners 
to follow the custom of their neighbors until 
some better way can be found; but my neigh¬ 
bors were depending mainly on sea-weed from 
the shore and stable manure from the city, 
procured at a fearful cost. The latter was 
bought at from $6 to $8 per cord (128 cubic 
feet) in livery stable cellars, whence it was 
thrown out by their own teamsters, and haul¬ 
ed home, at a snail’s pace, by four oxen, not 
more than a cord in a day. Spread upon the 
land, it could not cost at average distances 
less than $10, per cord. At this rate it would 
cost $5,000 to manure Ogden farm. Sea-weed 
cost $3 to $4 on the beach, and on the land 
from $6 to $7. This, too, was too costly, and I 
resolved to try the effect of special fertilizing. 
Having seen the good effect of Green Sand Marl 
on land similar to my own in New Jersey, I 
procured as an experiment a cargo of 100 
tons, costing on the farm about $500. 
I cannot say that this has had no effect, and I 
am not sure that it will not, in time, return its 
cost; but I am confident that the same money, 
invested in stable manure, or in sea-weed, would 
have paid much better, on my land, on the old 
principle of “ the nimble sixpence and the slow 
shilling.” Subsequently, I bought butchers’ 
liog-pen manure, costing about the same amount, 
and it told a very different story, though I am 
satisfied that the only place from which such 
manure ought to be procured is one’s own barn- 
cellar or manure-shed, and that our most strenu¬ 
ous efforts should be given to increasing the 
homo supply. Sea-weed I was a slow convert 
to, and I am not yet sure that it is worth, as a 
fertilizer, the money and labor that it costs; 
though its advantage as a covering—as protec¬ 
tion against frequent freezing and thawing,— 
especially where snow is as unreliable as it is 
here, may make up the account. Indeed, the 
eagerness with which it issought, and the lavish¬ 
ness with which it is used, indicate a confi¬ 
dence in its value that only favorable experi¬ 
ence could give. I am, this season, covering 
over half of my twenty acres of clover with it, 
and shall be able, a year hence—from a com¬ 
parison of the two lots—to judge of its value; 
but the seventy cords required will have cost. 
,$280 on the beach, and thirty-five days labor of 
a man and four horses, bringing the total cost 
to at least $40 per acre, and I am very doubtful 
whether the benefit will be equivalent. I am 
sure it would not but for the effect of the larger 
clover roots on subsequent crops; for after tak¬ 
ing $40 per acre from the value of two cuttings 
of clover, there will be very little money left for 
the farmer. However, we suspend judgment 
on this point until the result is before us. 
Farmers Should Take Enough Sleep. 
- •»—- 
Said one of the oldest and most successful 
farmers in this State, “I do not care to have my 
men get up before five or half-past five in the 
morning, and if they go to bed early and can 
sleep soundly, they will do more work than if 
they got up at four or half-past four.” We do 
not believe in the eight-hour law, but, neverthe¬ 
less, are inclined to think that, as a general rule, 
we work too many hours on the farm. The 
best man we ever had to dig ditches seldom 
worked, when digging by the rod, more than 
nine hours a day. And it is so in chopping 
wood by the cord; the men who accomplish the 
most, work the fewest hours. They bring all 
their brain and muscle into exercise, and make 
every blow tell. A slow, plodding Dutchman 
may turn a grindstone or a fanning-mill better 
than an energetic Yankee, but this kind of 
work is now mostly done by horse-power, and 
the farmer needs, above all else, a clear head, 
with all his faculties of mind and muscle light 
and active, and under complete control. Much, 
of course, depends on temperament, but, as a 
rule, such men need sound sleep and plenty of 
it. When ahoy on the farm, we were told that 
Napoleon needed only four hours sleep, and 
the old nonsense of “ five hours for a man, six 
for a woman, and seven for a fool,” was often 
quoted. But the truth is, that Napoleon was 
enabled, in a great measure, to accomplish what 
he did from the faculty of sleeping soundly—of 
sleeping when he slept and working when he 
worked. We have sat in one of his favorite 
traveling-carriages, and it was so arranged that 
he could lie down at full length, and when 
dashing through the country as fast as eight 
horses, frequently changed, could carry him, he 
slept soundly, and when he arrived at his des¬ 
tination was as fresh as if he had risen from a 
bed of down. Let farmers, and especially 
farmers’ boys, have plenty to eat, nothing to 
“ drink,” and all the sleep they can take. 
