342 
MAY 2 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
“CAN I KEEP THE FARM?” 
A Woman’s Pointed Questions. 
Why are New England farms abandoned? A New 
Hampshire farmer; “ father's hoy; ” more work than 
a hired man; New England soil is all right; prices 
compared. 
HATTIE B. COLBY. 
I have been much interested in reading the different 
views with regard to farms abandoned and neglected in 
the New England States, and it seems to me some of the 
most important causes for this state of affairs have not 
been reached. A year ago to-day my father died, leaving 
to his wife and daughter his farm, the home he had pur¬ 
chased 51 years before, where he had spent the 50 years of 
married life. 
Briefly, his mother died when he was a few days old, the 
first-born ; the father, then a young man, one of the early 
settlers of Newport, N. H., hired the maternal grand¬ 
parents to care for the baby boy until seven years old. 
In those days it was considered that a child could do work 
enough to pay his keep at that age. He remained with his 
grandparents working for them all the time as a younger 
child, allowed to go to school and teach winters. At the 
age of 21, being allowed the money he received for the last 
term of school taught, he was worth $22. He went to work 
upon a farm, his wages being $8 per month, teaching 
winters, clothing himself, and boarding when this was not 
included in his work, saving to buy a home of his own. 
At the age of 31 he had saved enough to buy one-half of 
our present home farm. He carried it on and raised his 
crops, working out by day part of the time. At no time 
did he receive over $12 per month. He married, but con¬ 
tinued to teach winters as the people were only too glad to 
secure his instruction in the home district school. Mother 
was endowed with the goodly portion, for well-to do farm¬ 
ers of those days thought proper to give a daughter on 
leaving home enough to add considerably to the savings of 
the prudent young man whom she married, so that her 
endowment gave them a comfortable home. From time 
to time father added to his farm, so that we have 125 acres 
in the home farm, and six acres in the outland meadow. 
Twelve years ago father was very sick with typhoid fever 
and all the fall and winter too ill to care about business. 
To him had been granted only three daughters. One tiny 
babe was taken in its first hours of life, and so the next 
was tenderly cared for, 
and the next became 
“father’s boy,” having 
been out so much with 
him. I was that next 
and from early life 
shared with my father 
the plans and care of 
all farm work. After 
his serious sickness he 
never regained good 
health, yet still kept 
working ahead in all 
things until three years ' x \ jjrj&l 
ago, when he became ill Y w 
for nearly two years 
with an apoplectic head fUil 
trouble, and gradually j||||| 
gave up the care of the W«;M 
farm. W§|| 
Last year I ran it, 
disposing of the stock 
as I thought most prof- 
itable, and settled the 
estate; and now the 
question comes, Can I 
keep the farm which is 
so dear to me, my home, where nearly all my life has passed ? 
Must mother in her old age leave this home to which she is 
so strongly bound by tender memories, to form new associa¬ 
tions, new habits, and take up new work ? Must she give up 
the luxuries of the farm, its pure air, its fresh fruits and 
her loved and beautiful flower garden, and be shut up in the 
four walls of a room in the city ? I am not a large or strong 
woman; in height five feet four inches, waist measure, 
23 inches and weigh not over 110 pounds in winter clothing 
—but I cannot hire a good-sized able-bodied man to do as 
much work in any kind of farm labor as I can do. For ex¬ 
ample, in covering corn, the men can do no more than keep 
up with me through the 10 hours for a day and in haying 
time I could not get a man to take my place, and do the 
same work in the field and the home chores. 
I have a throat and lung trouble, for which I have been 
told by our physician that I must keep much in the open 
air, go to the mountains, etc.; so no city life could be mine 
for any length of time. Some years ago I became much 
interested in fruit culture. We hired a man to graft, as 
the old orchard needed the addition of some new varieties. 
He asked two cents for each scion set. Only two lived 
from the lot for which I paid $3. Expensive scions 1 Two 
years later I did some cleft grafting with good success, 
and to day can do all this kind of work that should be 
done in orchard or garden without hired assistance. I 
always loved the horses, so when father gave the care of the 
stock to me, he said I knew the name of every horse that 
had been in the papers; but the cows’ records were just 
as well known to me, and I love all our dumb friends. 
But the question is, can I remain with them ? 
Why not ? Because I have not strength to do all the 
work required myself; because at the present prices I can 
get for the produce from my farm, I cannot hire hands to 
do this work at their price. 
This is the tiue answer to the question why there are 
abandoned New Hampshire farms. It shows the cause of 
my trouble in farming. The cry that our soil is wc rn out 
is false. The trouble is that it is not supplied with suffi¬ 
cient elbow action to insure success. Right here our fields 
are full of rocks, both large and small; the improved ma¬ 
chines for lightening labor that do such nice work on the 
smooth Western fields, cannot work here. Last year 
I dug down in one of our fields, and measured the soil 
grades, and the top soil from nine years’ seeding down 
was a good brown for 2)4 feet, then a yellowish-brown 
loam for another foot, and then it graded into a not very 
coarse gravel. At six feet from the top I struck the clay 
subsoil. I think three feet of good loam deep enough to 
raise any kind of farm crops, with the gravel giving 
drainage, and the clay subsoil to prevent severe droughts. 
In our old garden the rich black-brown loam goes down 
five feet deep before any light shade is reached. This is an 
average of the soil in central New Hampshire, where the 
farms have been in a decent measure tilled, and hay cut in 
rotation. Sometimes I feel tried, sometimes I pity man¬ 
kind for their helplessness—the common class of men. 
Another item: hired farm help by the day for the season, 
think their board is no expense to a farmer. One can’t find 
any of them who take this into account. True the expense 
varies somewhat but the average cost for board and lodg- 
t<''■& \ 
mm 
''' 
W0- 
THE RUSSELL APPLE. Fig. 1 16. 
ing a man amounts in my case to 50 cents per day, and I 
count that $12 per month, and I can’t do it for less. I do 
not keep a man by the year; for I could not sell enough 
beside supporting the family, to pay his wages, in addition 
to the taxes and the bills that must be paid. If I could 
not do this work myself—the caring for our farm stock, 
the so called chores, and most of the gardening, the mill¬ 
ing and attention to store supplies, as well as to black¬ 
smith work, etc., and the lighter farm work and market¬ 
ing, I would have to give up the farm. No stock means no 
manure, and without this the farm would run down. 
Most of our crops don’t bring paying prices. The cor¬ 
porations have paid such high wages—far beyond what 
their employees can truly earn—and have conceded such 
short hours, that the growing laziness of the working race, 
has caused hard times, and scarcity of good workmen. The 
average hired man is a careless, good-natured being who 
knows he has the best of the bargain and usually does as 
he pleases. The wages here average for a man over, say, 
20, from $18 to $24 per month with board and lodging, 
washing and mending. He will work from nine to ten 
hours on fair days and help do the chores on dull days. 
Some refuse to do chores on Sundays, but expect their 
board; many wish to go to the village evenings. Poor 
help, like boys or ol men, can be hired for less. All com¬ 
plain or leave if the board is not good and abundant 
many require a lunch. On the average the different work¬ 
men cannot and do not do 10 hours work per day. 
A man and a span of horses with a mowing machine 
will work a day, averaging eight hours, for $5, the horses 
to get hay and grain, and the man a dinner; while the 
wages of single men are $2 each, and of second hands, 
$1.50, with dinner and supper. I paid this price last sea¬ 
son. I raked with my horse what could be done, and, 
moreover, loaded and raked by hand and turned, and 
spread and partly took away all the hay drawn in with 
my team. It cost me $74 to do our haying. 
Here are our average prices. Readers of The Rural 
can make comparisons: Early lambs, in August, $3 each; 
wool, 25 cents per pound; veal calves, when five to six 
weeks old, five cents per pound; dairy butter, 20 cents per 
pound; spring pigs, five weeks old, $2.50 each, weighing 24 
pounds; spring chicks, live in October, 10 cents; later, 
8 cents ; eggs vary through the season, ranging from 30 to 
14 cents per dozen: dairy cheese, cream, 15 cents per pound. 
The creamery has ruined dairy butter markets in New 
England, but I think that if the city people “ knew it all,” 
they would take the private dairy butter. 
What can I spare for luxuries for mother and me ? We 
must have papers and books. The mind must have exercise 
and nourishment as well as the body. We must have 
clothes, and we must live, and be able to entertain the 
stranger within our gates. We must provide well for our 
workmen. We must meet our duties for the State and 
Nation as property holders, and taxes must be paid. The 
schools must be supported; but what of the church ? 
These wrong times—these mistakes—cause the farm to be 
shunned and the farmer to be looked down upon; and his 
calling despised. If every farmer in this country could 
support his own family, and raise no crops the coming 
season for the city markets, then the city people would 
begin to realize the true importance of the farmer. I have 
no interest or money to support my people, but I have our 
farm; can I keep a home for my loved ones and myself ? 
Merrimack Co., N. H. 
THE RUSSELL APPLE. 
Among the summer apples recommended to growers by 
the State Pomological Society of Maine is the Russell, a 
picture of which Is shown at Fig. 116. Orchardists in that 
section are advised to plant this apple among other early 
varieties, as It is a good yielder, of attractive color and 
best quality. In its report the Society says of the Russell : 
“ This apple has been traced 
to the farm formerly owned 
by Capt. William Russell, of 
Farmington, where it was 
known to have been in fruit 
over 50 years ago. There is a 
tradition that Capt. Russell, 
■ who was an early settler in 
Farmington, walked from 
ipSpljMassachusetts to his farm 
and brought in his pockets a 
lot of apple seeds. These 
were planted, and this variety 
fB' I s supposed to be one of the 
seedlings. The first scions 
lH were taken from the tree by 
Eliab Eaton, and later more 
p§ were taken by Jame3 Seales. 
From these cuttings the vari- 
II? ety was mainly disseminated. 
Ill The apple has a well estab- 
W lished reputation in Franklin 
f County, where it is recog¬ 
nized as superior to any 
other maturing in the early 
autumn. It was exhibited at 
the county fair some years 
ago, and by some was called 1 Cole’s Quince,’ and since then 
it has by many borne that name locally; but recent com¬ 
mittees at the State fairs, say it is not the one described 
by Downing as the Cole’s Quince. 
“ The Russell is thus described by President Pope: Large, 
round, ovate, sometimes oblong conical, somewhat flatten¬ 
ed at the base, nearly regular ; color bright yellow, with a 
red cheek in the sun. obscurely striped; surface waxy; 
stalk very short in a small narrow cavity ; calyx closed, 
basin small; core small; flesh yellow, fine grained, pleas¬ 
ant sub-acid; quality best; season September; tree spread¬ 
ing, hardy, an early and regular bearer.” 
WILD BEES IN CENTRAL AMERICA. 
There are many species of native bees in this country. 
I know beekeepers who have names for 17 species. Most 
of the bees are very small, but two are nearly as large as 
Apis mellifica, and one is a good deal larger. I know a 
farmer who has 22 colonies of the white hicate. The 
colonies are kept in hollow trunks, three to four feet long, 
suspended horizontally under the roof; sometimes another 
piece of trunk is added ; they are joined by the ends. The 
honey is stored at one end and the brood is at the other. 
The bees never put the honey in the cells in which the 
brood is grown, but at the other end of the hollow, in very 
large cavities of dark, resinous wax. It is remarkable that 
the combs full of brood of some quite small species, are 
eaten, after pouring honey on them or dipping them into 
it; they are really a delicacy and can be compared to some 
sweet cake. Only two species, thought here to be wasps, 
build a nest like a wasp nest outside among the branches 
and have their combs destined for honey as well as brood. 
One of these species is called Obeja de Castilla, and it has 
the honey in the hexagonous cells of the combs, like the 
European bee (Hicate de Castilla), only that the combs are 
disposed horizontally and have cells on one side only. 
All the species resembling the European bee are called 
“ hicate.” The “ hicate Congo ” is remarkable for its very 
large size—it is the largest of the native bees—and for the 
