294, 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[August, 
Walks and Talks on the Farm.—Ho. 116. 
“ We shall have to give up growing wheat.” 
So said a farmer of one of the best wheat¬ 
growing towns in Western Hew York. “In 
my neighborhood,” said another, “ we shall not 
have wheat enough for seed and for bread.” 
We are certainly having hard times. I have 
not seen a whole field of good wheat this year. 
Occasionally one finds a few acres in a field that 
will yield 25 or 30 bushels per acre, but the 
other parts of the field are hardly worth cutting. 
On many farms spring crops are equally poor. 
My German neighbor, Mr. Jacobs, whom I have 
before alluded to as one of our most successful 
and prosperous farmers, plowed up half of his 
wheat this spring and sowed it to barley. He 
afterwards plowed up half the barley and plant¬ 
ed the land to beans. 
Farmers are beginning to ask what all this 
means. And we are favored with a great vari¬ 
ety of opinions. “ Farming is played out,” 
says one. “ Our land is exhausted,” says an¬ 
other. “ I tell 3 7 ou,” says the Squire, who owns 
three large farms and has just bought another, 
“we can’t stand these high wages.” “We 
shall have to go back to the old-fashioned plan 
of plowing under clover,” says the Deacon, 
and, as usual, he is more than half right. In 
fact, there is some truth in all these opinions; 
but no one of them, it seems to me, fully meets 
the case. To say that “ farming is played out” 
is about as reasonable as to say that men can 
live without eating. And yet it is quite true 
that there is a kind of farming that is no longer 
profitable. I wish it was played out. Our land 
is -not exhausted. Wages are too high. But 
what are you going to do about it ? Plowing 
under clover will help a good deal, but we need 
something more and better. 
In years past we have had as poor crops as 
now, and poorer prices. But our expenses 
were not so large. If avc go back to old-fasli- 
ioued farming we must go back to old-fashioned 
modes of living. In a drive of a few miles last 
Saturday evening I passed six or eight farm¬ 
houses Avhere the young people were playing 
croquet. One farmer Avas himself mowing the 
grass Avitli a lawn-mower; three cheerful-look¬ 
ing farmers, with hoes and rakes in their hands, 
were cleaning up the grounds and walks around 
the church at Ogden Center. A stranger Avould 
not suspect that times Avere hard. « 
The truth is, farming is not up to the age; 
and instead of looking back Ave must push for- 
Avard. Our expenses are far greater than for¬ 
merly. We live better, dress better, and have 
more comforts. We do not want to give up 
these advantages. We do not want to travel 
by atage, or go back to bake-ovens and tallow 
candles. 
Old-fashioned farming Avas all very well, and 
so was old-fashioned living. The two went very 
well together. But modern farm-life and old- 
style agriculture can not long continue. One 
or the other must be abandoned. 
Farm implements, tools, and machines are 
vastly superior to those we had 25 years ago. 
So are our facilities for marketing our produce. 
But do we raise any more or better grass uoav 
than when it had to be cut Avitli a scythe ? or is 
our Avheat of better quality than it was when 
reapers were unknown ? We have better plows, 
harrows, and cultivators — but is our land 
creaner and mellower ? 
Farming is certainly behind the age, and 
there is a grand opportunity for those able and 
av filing to push ahead. Farmers have to com¬ 
pete with each other, at home and abroad; and 
that man will make the most money who can 
raise the best article at the least cost. If there 
are any unjust laws, taxes, or monopolies in¬ 
jurious to agriculture let us do all we can to 
remove them. This is.simply our duty. But 
in the meantime let us not forget to improve 
our farms, our stock, and ourselves. 
“But,” asks the Squire, “will improved 
farming pay?” 
“ That’s the question,” remarks the Deacon, 
rubbing his hands, “ Ave are all willing enough 
to make money if we could sec our way clear.” 
“Yes,” says the Squire, “no prudent farmer 
wants to run any risk.” 
“What nonsense, Squire,” I remarked, “sen¬ 
sible men sometimes do talk. We have to run 
more or less risk every day Ave live. We can 
not avoid it. A farmer can not keep a cow, a 
horse, a sheep, or a pig Avithout risk. Life is 
made up of risks. A farmer takes more risk 
than almost any other man; and the poorer he 
farms the more risk he takes.” 
“I would like to know how you make that 
out,” says the Squire. 
“Don’t you recollect,” I replied, “that this 
spring I wanted you to summer-fallow that 
clayey field where you were going to soav oats, 
telling j r ou that the spring was so late and the 
land so AA r et that if we had a dry summer you 
would not get your seed back. ‘ I'U risk it' 
j r ou said ; and 3 y ou did risk it, and novv see the 
result! The oats on the clay spots did not ger¬ 
minate. There are thistles b 3 r the thousand, 
and annual weeds by the million. These wdll 
go to seed before the oats are ready to harvest. 
The seeds will fall on the ground. You will 
soav the field to Avheat this fall. You will be 
sure of a full crop of weeds, but stand a poor 
chance of getting more than half a crop of 
Avheat. The next season your clover will be 
full of Aveeds, mai^ of which will go to seed 
and be carried to the barn-yard in the hay, 
thence to be spread over the farm in the manure. 
Truly you were a plucky man to risk so much 
for the sake of gaining so little.” 
The Squire did not like this kind of talk. 
He is rich, and is adding farm to farm, and is 
utterty Avithout excuse for not cultivating his 
land better. He can afford to wait, but fails to 
realize the truth that the money spent in thor¬ 
oughly cleaning a piece of land should be re¬ 
garded to a considerable extent as a permanent 
investment. If the improvement will pay a 
good interest that is all that should be expected. 
I think it might be slioAvn that a good summer- 
falloAV in the case alluded to would have paid 
50 per cent per annum for the next five years. 
I do not advise any one to engage in farming. 
That is a matter I have nothing to do with. I 
do not urge a farmer who thinks he can do bet¬ 
ter in some other business to stick to the farm. 
He must act according to his OAvn best judg¬ 
ment. If he tells me farming wdll not pay, I 
do not propose to argue the question. I only 
say, if yon are going to farm, farm well. I do 
not say good farming will pay. I only say it 
will pay far better than poor farming. 
I hope and believe that this nation is going 
to be the grandest nation on earth. I believe it 
will be a great manufacturing and commercial 
nation. I want to see good wheat and good 
meat, good potatoes and good fruit, and all the 
other necessaries of life sold at reasonable 
prices. And while I am a farmer, and all my 
sympathies are with farmers, I must say that it 
would be a terrible calamity if prices of meat 
and wheat should permanently be high enough 
to make poor farming profitable. I have not 
the slightest fear of any such result. Still, 
when we consider the rapid increase in our 
population, and the marvelous development in 
mining, manufacturing, railroad building, com¬ 
merce, and trade, and then take a careful look 
at our agriculture, it is easy to imagine that a 
few successive “ bad seasons ” would produce a 
famine with all its accompanying horrors. It 
would not be worth while making such a remark 
as this if it were not for the fact that good farm¬ 
ing is the best and only safeguard Ave have 
against the direful effects of a bad season. 
Half the farmers of the United States to-day 
adopt a system, if system it may be called, that 
leaves them entirely at the mercy of the season. 
A late, Avet spring, followed by a severe drouth 
and a horde of insects, cuts off the spring 
grains. A cold wet summer and early frosts in 
autumn destroy the corn crop. A dry autumn 
so weakens the plants of wheat on poor, fill- 
prepared land that they can not stand a severe 
Avinter or cold winds in early spring. If AA r e 
try to avoid this evil by early soAving, the 
chances are that the Hessian-fly, will destroy 
half the crop. The only remedy is better farm¬ 
ing. This is a very unpopular doctrin>e, but it 
is true. There is no royal road to growing 
good crops of winter Avheat. We must make 
our land rich enough, and mellow enough, and 
moist enough to secure a strong, healthy, vigor¬ 
ous root growth in the fall before winter sets in. 
Land full of Aveeds, sown Avitli a spring crop, 
and the weeds suffered to groAv for some AA’eeks 
after harvest before ploAving, may produce a fair 
crop of wheat, but I ask any sensible farmer if 
he has a right to expect it. I should about as 
soon expect to draw a prize in a lotteiy, or cure 
dyspepsia with patent medicine. 
What I want to say to any young farmer 
reader of the American Agriculturist Avho hon¬ 
ors me with his confidence is this: Make up 
your mind to steadily improve the condition of 
3 r our land; above all, kill the Aveeds; under¬ 
drain; grow more clover, peas, and roots, and 
consume them all on the farm. Make more 
and better manure. Buy bran to feed out. Sell 
timothy hay, if need be, but never sell clover 
hay. Sell straAV whenever, as norv in this sec¬ 
tion, it is worth half as much per ton as bran. 
Study the chemistry of manures. There are 
many places where artificial fertilizers can be 
used to great advantage. Improve your stock; 
feed liberally. Raise a ferv thorough-breds, and 
gradually work your Ava 3 r into the business; 
but do not be in a huny. Set out choice fruit 
trees, and take care of them. Spend moder¬ 
ately. Live within your income. Do not dis¬ 
count your prospects. And again I say kill the 
tceeds. Cultivate the land thoroughly. Make 
the Aveed-seeds grorv, and then kill the young 
plants. I feel sure that the young farmer who 
folloAvs this advice will not have to wait many 
years before getting his reward. I look upon it 
as absolutely certain that Ave shall get good 
prices for farm produce in the near future. I 
fear Ave shall get extravagantly high prices. I 
fear still more that few farmers Avill profit by 
them. Prices never have been and never can 
be high enough to make poor farming profitable. 
You must get your land in good condition uoav, 
and thus be rauty to avail yourself of the high 
prices when they come—as come they will. 
An old gentleman who is an entire stranger 
to me, but avIio, I imagine, was thinking of buy- 
ing a farm in this neighborhood, rode past here 
