AMERICAN AG-R1C; U ET U RIST. 
407 
1807.] 
lunied ut all, lUe one would bo well rolled, and 
ill flue condiliou lo put on the laud, while llie 
other would most likely be lumpy, with some 
parts heated too mueh, and others not fermented 
at all. Now then, if you should make a spas¬ 
modic effort lo get this last heap into good con¬ 
dition, and should turn it over a few days before 
you wished to use it, three times or even six 
times, do you suppose the heap would be as 
fine, and as well rolled, and as rich as the other? 
So far as enriching the land is concerned, stir¬ 
ring it over three or four times in ns many days, 
docs comparativel}’ little good. Such treatment 
mav lie necessary to get the land ready tor the 
seed, but by doing the work all at one time, you 
lose one of the chief advantages of working the 
land. It slnmld be understood that decomposi¬ 
tion or oxidation in the soil or in a manure 
heap is a kind of slow combustion. Now, any 
good liousewife Avho bakes in an old-fashioned 
brick oven proceeds in strict accoi dance nilh 
scientific principles. She turns the fire from 
one side in the ov'cn to the other, and thus ex¬ 
poses the black embers to the air, and when 
there are all aglow, she expose-s another por- 
lion. If she should neglect to do this till the 
bread was all ready, and then should knock the 
fire back and forth half a dozen limes in as 
many minutes, she would exhibit no inoie 
sense than her husband, Avho is, with plows, 
harrows, and cultivators, trying to get his land 
readv fur wheat in a hurry. In healing the 
oven, the Are heats the opposite side from that 
on which the wo<k1 is placed, and so in the flel 1 
the effect of working the laud is not felt wholly 
on liie first crop, but on those which follow. 
Cultivating corn beneflls the crop. This is not 
all; its effects will be felt for two or three years. 
’fhe Doctor says, he “never knew a man to sell 
his farm who did not regret it.” This is perhaps 
stating it a little too strong. But being one of 
the oldest pastors in 'Weslern New 'i ork, he has 
had good opportunities for observation. I think 
men cngaced in other pursuits, who buj fauns, 
expecling'to find nothing but pleasure and pro- 
flt in agriculture, are generally very glad of an 
opportunity to dispose of them. Such men sel¬ 
dom reiret selling. But with a farmer the case 
is very different. He either sells because ho 
thinks he can buy a belter or cheaper farm, or 
because he is tired of farming, and proposes to 
live in the city. In the latter case he is almost 
certain to wish himself back again on the farm. 
I heard of such a case the other day. A farmer 
was offered last spring what he thought a high 
price for his farm, and accepted the offer, think¬ 
ing he could live comfortably in the city on the 
interest of the money. After trying it six or 
eight montiis, he offered the purchaser $1000 to 
let him have the farm back again, giving him 
the summer crops and the w'lieat into the bar¬ 
gain A farmer who sells expecting to buy an¬ 
other farm, finds it not so easy to suit himself as 
he expected. If you must sell the better plan is 
to know' beforehand where you are going. 
Like some of the other editors of the Agri¬ 
culturist, I have been enjoying a rather long 
vacation the past summer. I took it at home 
-in the “stump lot!” AVe have had aright 
good time, pulling up stumps, piling old logs, 
tearing np the bushes, and making lots of bon¬ 
fires. °AVe have cleared about twenty-flve acres 
of land that was chopped over fifteen or twenty 
years ago, and which has been allowed to run 
pretty much lo waste ever since. It had never 
been plowed, and probably never seeded. The 
drier portions afforded good sweet pasture, but 
not much of it. Tiic low, mucky parts weie 
occupied almost exclusively with tall, rank 
weeds, sedge, rushes and logs. It w'as a lOUgh 
looking place to lake a plow and team into, but 
we managed to strike out a couple of fuiiows 
and then worked on both sides of them, ieino\- 
ing stumps, rotten logs, etc., and piling them in 
heaps on the plowed land. I believe I knew 
what a “rolling hitch” was before; at all events 
I do now! But my performances did not es¬ 
cape good-natured criticism from some of the 
old settlers. It was said that I should burn up 
all the laud, and even the Deacon thinks the 
new ditch I am digging through it, from the 
creek, “ will drain the creek instead of the land.” 
There may be some truth in this. But what of 
it? The only outlet for the water is the creek. 
It can go no where else, and if Avhen the cieek 
is high the water flows on to me, when it low- 
ei-s it will flow off rapidly. It will not be as 
stagnant as it was before the ditch was dug. I 
have burnt some of the land—did it on purpose. 
I had three acres of the roughest land, where 
it was almost impossible to turn over the tough 
sod, and where tlie plow pulled up the old 
sedge roots and much soil into heaps. I set fiie 
to the whole thing and the “burnt district” is 
now the smoothest land in the field. “ But will 
it not spoil the land ? ” I think not. “ Paring 
and Burning” is an old practice for emidling 
land. Hundreds of acres are burnt, or charred, 
every year in England. At all events the land 
produced nothing of any value before, and it 
can scarcely be any worse now. I have sown 
the drier portions of the field to wheat, sowing 
Timothy seed with it, and the rest I have sown 
with Tiinothv alone, at the rate of a peck pei 
acre. The work could doubtless have been 
done better, but at all events it is done. And if 
I had let it lie as it was for another twenty 
years, it is not probable that 1 should have done 
it then to the entire satisfaction of every passer¬ 
by. The whole, I think, has not cost me over 
f 10.00 an acre, and if the drier portions of the 
land produce a fair crop of w'heat, it will more 
than pay the whole expense, and lam mistaken 
if the low land will not yield some tall Timothy. 
This low laud was in front of the house, and 
was an eyesore. There were three or four 
“knolls” in the field, but they were hid by 
brush. Since we have pulled up the bushes 
and cut down some of the young trees, this lis- 
iii"' ground comes into view, and the whole field 
seems to have risen up ten or fifteen feel! I 
dare not tell an old farmer so, but between you 
and me I think this effect as viewed from the 
front piazza is worth at least $20 a year, or 
more than the interest on the whole cost. A 
fine view has a cheering, invigorating influence 
on any man who can appreciate it. It gives 
tone to the mind. A farmer, more than most 
men, needs pluck, faith in himself and in nature, 
and above all patience. He must wait for re¬ 
sults, and while doing so it is important that 
his surroundings should be as pleasant as he 
can afford to make them. A cheerful, healthy 
location, is of more value than a fine house. 
“ I thought you advocated small farms and 
thorough cultivation,” said a visitor some time 
since in a tone that implied a doubt as to my 
consistency. “That field of corn,” I replied, 
“has been cultivated ten times. Is not that 
thorough cultivation?” “Yes, but you have a 
1 lar^-e fa°rm.” “ That depends upon circumstances. 
A “truck’ grower near New York, who finds 
ten acres enough, would call it large, while Mi. 
I Alexander, of Illinois, would call it a mere pad- 
dock for young calves, to run and graze in.” It is 
a mistake, however, to class me with those who 
indiscriminately advocate small farms. I have 
never said that it was belter to have a small farm 
than a large one,provided you have suflicient cap¬ 
ital and experience. The cost offences on a small 
farm is far greater per acre than on a large one. 
The amount of land occupied by them is pro¬ 
portionally much greater. You cannot plow, 
harrow, cultivate, mow, or reap, (with ^ a ma¬ 
chine,) to as great advantage. In cultivating 
corn on a small field, you injure a greatei pio- 
portion in turning at the headlands than you 
■\vould in a large field. One of my Dutchmen, 
to whom I was paying $l.o0 per day, said he 
must have $1.75. I asked him how much he 
got in the old country, and, after considerable 
cross-questioning, ho admitted that that he onlj 
received $8.00 a month and board. Now, hith- 
terto the price of many of our farm products, 
such as wheat,' corn, cheese, butler, and poik, 
has been determined by the price in the Europ¬ 
ean markets, and we have received for them 
what they will sell for there, less the cost of 
transportation, commission, insurance, dockage, 
etc. In other words, wc have to compete with 
the cheap labor of Europe. How can we do 
this? AVe have had cheap land, and we have 
been able lo grow crops without paying much 
attention to manure. This is still true of a con¬ 
siderable extent of country in the AVestern States 
at the present time. But as compared w’ith the 
Stales on the Atlantic, this advantage is in part 
counterbalanced by the expense of transporta¬ 
tion. Aluch of our land is now no richer or bet¬ 
ter in any respect than that in Europe. A\ c shall 
have to manure as highly as they do, pay at 
least double the wages, and sell our produce in 
the same market. True, we have cheaper land, 
but this is in part counterbalanced by a higher 
rate of interest for nionej'. Tlic only advantage 
we have is that we make our labor more efficient 
by the use of better tools, implements, and ma¬ 
chinery, directed by active and intelligent men. 
AVe cannot use machinery to its fullest ex¬ 
tent and with the greatest economy on a small 
farm. AVe shall have larger farms. The ten¬ 
dency is already apparent. AVe may deplore it, 
and argue against it, but cannot stop it. Foi- 
tunately Ave have a country almost boundless, 
and we can have large farms here, if anywhere. 
It is certainly far better lo have a small farm 
highly cultivated than to have a large one half 
tilted But a large fivrm imy be cultivated as 
highly as a small one—and at less expense per 
acre. In England, as a rule, the largest farmers 
are the best farmers. One of ihe'most highly culti¬ 
vated farms I ever saw contained over 3000 acres, 
and I do not recollect ever seeing a farm of fifty 
acres or less, that Avould at all compare with the 
more liberally managed largo farms. This is 
very different from Avhat it is here, and one main 
reason is, a deficiency of Avorkiug capital. 
Peart, tho butcher, who is a close observer, 
aud has gone tho rounds for a great many years, 
thinks the permanent meadoAVS in this section 
are rapidly deteriorating. “ItAvill not do,” he 
says, “ to keep thorn doAvn so long. AVhen Ben¬ 
jamin bought his farm, it had been in grass for 
fifteen years, and tho meadows produced a kind 
of June grass with a little Timothy not over a 
foot high, hardly worth mowing. I told him 
the fiirni Avas not run down, only neglected. He 
ploAVcd it up, Avorked it Avell, put on plenty of 
plaster, and noAV see what a lot of stuff he 
raises! I know of several such cases, and you 
will find, this year especially, that all the heavy 
grass is ou the meadows most recently seeded.” 
