i89i 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
4o5 
Business. 
STEAM SPADING. 
The Rural’s Interesting illustrations and description of 
traction engines on page 362 (May 9) were accompanied by 
allusion to recently introduced and practically effective 
spading machines in England, which are found superior 
to plows in their work, while they are as rapid, and 
require no more power. This recalls to me some pro¬ 
phetic words on the subject in a book written by my Eng¬ 
lish namesake, Chandos Wren Hoskyns, entitled “Talpa: 
or the Chronicles of a Clay Farm.” The chapters of this 
book first appeared serially in the Gardeners’ Chronicle 
and Agricultural Gazette, about the year 1850, and were 
reproduced in book form in 1852, going through 
several subsequent editions, and being reprinted in this 
country. It was of a semi-humorous character, and the 
English editions were illustrated with numerous vignettes 
from the pencil of George Cruikshank. Some of The 
Rural’s older readers may remember this little book, 
which treated chiefly of underdraining, and excited a good 
deal of interest in both countries. Mr. Hoskyns, who was 
a man of education and farmed his own land, made many 
shrewd reflections upon the state of agriculture in Eng¬ 
land, and upon the slowness of the English to improve 
their agricultural methods. His book is very good reading, 
and his thoughts reached forward with prophetic vision to 
a better time coming for agriculture, with the aid of 
science and mechanical inventions. Touching upon the 
subject of machine tillage, he objects strongly to steam 
plows: 
“ I say the plough has the sentence of death passed upon 
it, because it is essentially imperfect. What it does Is 
little towards the work of cultivating ; but that little is 
tainted by a radical imperfection—damage to the subsoil, 
which is pressed and hardened with the weight of soil 
lifted, plus that of the force required to effect the cleaver- 
age and the weight of the plow itself. The mere invention 
of the subsoiler is a standing commentary 
on the mischief done by the plow. Why 
then should we struggle for its survival 
under the new dynasty of steam ? The 
true object is not to perpetuate, but as 
soon as possible to get rid of it. Imagine 
an icstrument, not rolling on the ground, 
but performing independent revolutions 
behind its locomotive, cutting its way down 
by surface abrasion, throwing back the soil 
as it flies back from the feet of a dog 
scratching at a rabbit hole; then imagine 
the locomotive moving forward on the hard 
ground with a slow and equal motion, the 
revolver behind, with its cutting points 
playiDg upon the edge or land side of the 
trench as it advances, and capable of any 
adjustment to coarse or fine cutting, mov¬ 
ing always forward, and leaving always 
behind, granulated and inverted by its re¬ 
volving action, a seed-bed seven or eight 
inches deep, never to be gone over again by 
any after implement except the drill, 
which had much better follow at once, 
attached behind, with a light harrow to 
cover the seed.” 
Farther on the writer says: “ Before the 
discovery of steam power and its applica¬ 
tion to machinery there was no such thing 
as a mechanical power that could be carried 
about and applied where, when and how 
you pleased, except animal power. The 
modes of action to which cultivation was 
before limited became, on the discovery 
of steam, no longer the only and neces¬ 
sary modes of performing the act of til* 
lage. From the nature of things it was 
morally certain that whenever that new power was 
applied to this act it would be through an instrumentality 
as different from the plow as the plow was from the 
spade. * * * It is not plowing, it is not digging, it is 
not harrowing, raking, hoeing, rolling, clod-crushing, 
scuffling, ridging that we want. All these are the time- 
bothered means to a certain result—a seed-bed; and a seed¬ 
bed is a layer of aoil from six to twelve inches In depth, 
rendered fine, and as far as possible inverted during the 
process.” 
Then the writer, in a subsequent page, breaks out in the 
following apostrophe: ‘'Oh Agriculture! thou Science 
of Sciences without a school I thou Philosophy without 
a shelter ! thou University of unexamined graduates ; all 
Masters and no Students—when will thy degrees be bet¬ 
ter recognized, thy principles more truly studied, thy 
privileges be better appreciated for being better under¬ 
stood ? When will men consent—condescend—to learn an 
Art that claims a share of light and illustration and prac¬ 
tical advancement from every physical science that has 
sprung into being since Bacon traced out knowledge to its 
source, and Chemistry, the philosophy of matter, gave 
illustration to the great inductive theory that rests all 
knowledge on the one sole basis of experiment t * * * 
It is a mere question of Time.” 
Between the leaves, at this place, I find a cutting from 
The Rural New-Yorker of August 28,1880, as follows: 
Steam Cultivation.— We have made mighty strides in 
steam cultivation since the first Carlisle meeting of 1855, 
says the London Chronicle, but we think it is a happy co¬ 
incidence that the second Carlisle show has made of steam 
cultivation almost as prominent a feature as was bestow¬ 
ed on the former occasion. In fact, we have taken a new 
departure, and on the silver medal by the Society being 
presented to Messrs. M’Laren for their improved Darby 
digger, we have the promise of tilling being conducted 
more in future on the principle of Mr. Hoskyns. He 
pointed out that the mole, by the action of its claws and the 
fine mold left behind, affords an example for the imita¬ 
tion of the steam cultivator. Mr. Darby, of Chelmsford, 
a few years since, went out of the usual track in devising 
a steam digger, which works more according to this prin¬ 
ciple than any other of the steam cultivators previously 
devised. T. H. hoskins. 
Orleans County, Vt. 
MEDITATION IN THE POTATO FIELD. 
Pretty hard work dragging, as tbe weather is so dusty 
and hot. We haven’t had a drop of rain in a month. 
Last year at this time we could not get into the field with¬ 
out getting stuck in the mud. The weeds got such a start 
they kept ahead all summer and made hard work; but I 
will flx them this year. Plowing the ground last fall cut 
short their seeding time. That dragging In April killed 
a good many that had just started, and mellowed the 
ground so that the rest would sprout. That was just a 
week to-day and the ground is full of white threads each 
attached to a sprouted seed. This hot sun will kill them 
as fast as I drag them out. I wonder how many I have 
killed to-day. Gracious ! 200 on that square foot. That 
would be, on an acre, 8,712,000. That is killing by whole¬ 
sale. Let me see, to-day is May the 8th: I wonder if I 
had better plant yet. Last year neighbor B hurried his 
crop in on the first. They were all up in time to be frosted 
on the 25th and did not amount to much. Frosted pota¬ 
toes never do. We always get a frost here toward the last 
of the month. He had to wait so long for his to recover, 
that the weeds were higher than the potatoes when he com¬ 
menced cultivating. Better not be in a hurry; I can 
sprout another crop of weed seed and kill them by the 20th. 
Three crops of weeds killed before planting! There 
oughtn’t to be many left. 
I shall mark out with my reversible hillside plow, turn¬ 
ing all the dirt down the hill. It is hard work to get dirt 
up hill and the furrow makes a sort of bank on the lower 
side. Seed is high and I have this piece worked up so fine 
that I will cut the seed closer this year. Eight bushels per 
acre ought to plant it. Everybody Is planting this year ; 
high prices always set men crazy. If the season is favor¬ 
able, potatoes won’t bring 30 cents per bushel next fall. 
I can’t help it; but must grow them cheaper so that I can 
afford to sell them cheap. I will drop the pieces in the 
trench and cross-drag once with a straight-tooth drag. 
That will be a quick way to work—pull part of the fur¬ 
row back on to them. I don’t believe there is anything 
added to the soil by using a hoe to get the dirt on to them. 
They won’t be covered deep enough ? Well, they ought to 
be from four to six inches deep. 
In a few days, some weed seeds that have been turned in 
the furrow will be sprouted and I will cross-drag with the 
spring-tooth to fill up the trenches about full. Let me see, 
the potato vines will be about three weeks getting to the 
surface, and just before that time I will put on the smooth¬ 
ing harrow and cross-drag again, and that ought to leave 
the surface level, very mellow, and perfectly clean of 
weeds. This is a good deal of work to put on potatoes be¬ 
fore they are up, but I don’t think much of chasing a culti¬ 
vator every day for several weeks, and then have the hills 
full of weeds in the bargain. I have never seen the man 
who could get weeds out with a horse when the potatoes 
were planted in trenches, nor have I ever seen good crops 
of potatoes and weeds together. 
“Hello! Blackbird. You are hot. Why don’t you 
rest in the shade ? I would if I had time.” 
“ Can’t! Must keep at it. My little ones are hungry, 
and such nice wire-worms and grubs as I find after you 
have cut up the ground with your slicer. They must be 
caught before they get back out of sight. I have three big 
ones now. I’ll be back in a minute.” 
She flew away to her nest, but was soon back again, 
walking rapidly, with panting sides, and eager eyes along 
the fresh track, searching for food. 
“ I am not going on that old skinflint’s field again,” she 
broke out. “ I am so weary and sad. They shot my mate 
yesterday, and I have to feed the little ones alone now. 
We never would touch his corn if we could get worms. 
Don’t you think we do enough good killing the worms to 
pay for a few kernels of corn ? ” 
Away she goes again. Twenty times in one forenoon 
she went with worms to the nest. Each worm would 
easily do a cent’s worth of damage each day by eating off 
the roots and boring into the tubers. Each one would 
soon, if left alone, multiply until it would be impossible 
to grow any crops. 
“Yes! yon are well worth your keep. When I am not 
turning out the worms I will feed you.” 
The welcome sound of the dinner horn Is heard and 
answered by that superb bundle of intelligence, a grade 
Percheron mare, “Kitten,” with a loud whinny. “My 
partner ” says “ Good, smart horses can do enough for half 
a day’s work by half past eleven, and ought to rest before 
eating their grain.” I agree with her, especially if I have 
to drive. c. E. chapman. 
Tompkins County, N. Y. 
The Farmer Plays “Tiddle de Winks.” 
The latest game is “Tiddle de Winks.” Probably most 
of our readers have seen it. For the benefit of those who 
have not, this brief explanation is given. A little cup 
called the wink pot is placed at the center of the table. 
Each player is provided with a number of “ winks” of a 
uniform color. Tnese “ winks” are small counters of bone 
or wood about the size and shape of a penny. Each player 
has also a “ tiddle ;” this is made of the same material as 
the “ wink” and is about as large as a silver dollar. The 
game is to snap the “ winks” into the cup by placing the 
“tiddle” on its edge and pressing down—just as one can 
snap a cent or nickel with any flat instrument. The win¬ 
ner is the one who first gets his “ winks” into the cup. 
Our artist represents three farmers “snapping” their pro¬ 
duce directly to the market while the 
middlemen are frantic to see it pass over 
their heads. Farmers are all ready for 
such a game If they can be told where to 
procure the things to play It with. The 
market is before them, so is the produce. 
What they want is the “tiddle”—the in¬ 
strument that will carry the produce to 
the consumer. Who will tell where that 
is to be found T 
IMPLEMENT NOTES. 
Bicycle Sulky.— On page 841 of last 
year’s R. N.-Y., we gave a picture of anew 
sulky in which the horse trots directly 
between the two wheels, the driver sitting 
directly over the animal. There are no 
shafts—the horse is attached directly to the 
curved axle of the sulky. We are now 
told of a Californian who has gone still 
further and “ invented and patented a 
track harness for trotters, which has neither 
the ordinary breast collar, with traces, nor 
breeching. It is generally conceded that 
these appendages retard the speed of a 
trotter by interfering with the free action 
of his limbs, and many horsemen are favor¬ 
ably impressed with this harness, the 
principal feature of which is an extra 
girth at the flank of the horse, which is 
connected with the main girth by a steel 
shank on the back, and which, in con¬ 
nection with a collar and girth strap 
similar to that used on the English 
hunting saddle, prevents the main girth 
from slipping backward or forward. It 
is said that it entirely prevents chafing at or near the 
elbows, and that the hardest puller can be driven with¬ 
out drawing the sulky out of its proper position.” 
As the Maine Farmer says : “ It will be a novel sight to 
see a trotter ready for a race in harness without breast 
collar or breeching straps, and attached to a sulky, the 
wheels on either side of the horse, with a driver over all. 
Such an arrangement may give increased speed, but it 
will never take the place of the top buggy or phaeton 
when one wants a quiet drive with his sweeetheart.” 
Chieftain Hay Tedder.— This machine is made by the 
Chieftain Company of Canton, Ohio. It can be driven by 
a boy or girl, and will turn hay better and faster than a 
dozen men could do it with forks. It works on the crank 
shaft principle, and can be thrown in and out of gear 
from the seat. Hay is going to be a valuable crop this 
year. It will pay you to get every tool that will enable 
you to make a larger or better crop. 
Champion Wagons.— The Champion Wagon Company 
write us that their wholesale agents are the Cortland 
Wagon Company, who have the sale of this wagon in a 
large part of the United States. This is printed in reply 
to several questions. 
Glass-lined Butter Firkin.— Some time during last 
year I saw an advertisement in The Rural in regard 
to a glass lined firkin or pail for packing butter. Is it 
a success, and, If so, where can I buy it ? I have 
made inquiries of our dealers, but they do not keep 
it or know of whom to order. I want to pack enough 
butter during, say, June, to last my family during the 
season, when my one cow is dry. If a glass-lined pail will 
preserve the fresh taste better than a stone jar, of course 
I want one. A Pennsylvania subscriber. 
Probably A. H. Reid, Philadelphia, Pa., can supply 
them. We doubt if the glass will preserve the butter any 
better than a stone crock, but would be glad to hear from 
others with more experience. 
