1216 
T?he  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
The  Pastoral  Parson  on  the  Lonely  Road 
Some  Home  Farm  Experiences 
By  Rev.  Geo.  B.  Gilbert 
Factory  Farming. — “Doesn’t  your  corn 
look  a  bit  yellow?”  said  an  approaching 
farmer  to  another,  “Why  yes.  and  why 
shouldn’t  it?  I  planted  yellow  corn.” 
“But  really  now,”  persisted  the  man 
again,  “I  don’t  believe  you  will  get  over 
half  s  crop.”  “And  why  should  I?”  came 
the  immediate  answer.  “I  am  raising  it 
on  equal  shares.”  But  the  man  who 
dropped  in  on  the  Pastoral  Parson  the 
other  night  as  he  sat  at  supper  will  not 
even  get  half  a  crop.  In  fact  he  will  get 
no  crop  at  all.  Tie  lias  worked  hard  and 
put  money  into  that  acre  of  corn  and  will 
not  get  his  seed  back.  Though  he  works 
in  a  factory  all  day  long,  the  cry  of  the 
soil  is  so  loud  to  him  that  lie  lias  put  up 
a  little  barn  with  old  boxes  and  built  n 
henhouse  and  is  looking  forward  to  hav¬ 
ing  a  cow  and  rnilk  for  his  little  ones  this 
Winter.  He  wanted  corn  for  his  hens 
and  the  corn  fodder  for  bis  cow,  and  he 
will  get  neither.  lie  paid  live  dollars  for 
the  use  of  the  land  and  six  dollars  to 
have  it  plowed  and  harrowed  ami  marked 
out. 
TIrs  Mistake. — Tlis  mistake  is  so  com¬ 
mon  among  those  who  go  out  into  the 
country  from  the  town  to  farm  it  Hint  I 
must  warn  people  against  it.  lie  de¬ 
pended  too  much  on  what  lie  had  read 
about  raising  corn  and  none  at  all  On 
what  the  farmers  in  that  neighborhood 
could  tell  him.  I  sometimes  call  such 
“bulletin"  farmers,  hut  the  native  Yankee 
flunks  of  them  too  often  as  bull-headed 
farmers  of  “thr-know-it-all"  type.  Each 
kind  nf  farmers  needs  to  learn  of  the 
other.  The  old  timer  needs  more  bulle¬ 
tin  and  farm  paper,  the  new  comer  needs 
to  learn  what  he  can  from  the  experience 
of  the  man  who  has  had  years  of  it.  What 
I  told  this  man  in  five  minutes  about  his 
corn,  when  too  late,  would  have  been 
worth  at  the  least  twenty-five  dollars  to 
him  in  the  Spring.  “Put  your  work  ami 
hen  manure  on  a  third  as  much  land” 
was  all  he  needed  to  know.  From  llis 
reading  he  lmd  altogether  too  high  an 
opinion  of  the  value  of  a  plowed-in  sod 
in  growing  corn.  To  him  a  sod  was  a 
Sufi  whether  an  old  worn-out,  thin,  .Tune 
grass  sod  or  a  deep,  rich,  black,  clover 
sod.  Then,  too,  be  erred  in  the  same  way 
in  his  opinion  of  hen  manure.  He  had 
read  of  its  great  value  and  thought  one 
handful,  put  near  the  hill  after  the  corn 
was  tip,  would  grow  corn  !  <  >f  course  it 
is  grand  fertilizer  and  enough  put  where 
it.  belongs  will  raise  about  anything,  but 
from  just  reading  we  get  a  one-sided 
view.  I  read  about  Alfalfa  till  I  wonder 
how  I  have  lived  five  minutes  without  it, 
and  then  I  read  about  clover  and  see 
clearly  that  my  only  salvation  consists  in 
sowing  it  over  the  whole  farm !  I  read 
about  White  Wyandottes  till  I  am  in¬ 
clined  to  grab  the  ax  for  my  miserable 
White  Leghorns  and  then  my  eye  catches 
a  report  from  Storrs  College  which  tells 
me  that  the  average  difference  between 
these  Iwo  breeds  for  10  months  amounts 
to  half  an  egg.  and  the  Reds  and  the 
Rocks  are  only  three  eggs  less ! 
ni-x  Sense. — Speaking  of  hens 
prompts  me  to  say  a  word  about  hens  on 
small  places  out  in  the  open  country. 
There  must  be  horse  sense,  though  it  is 
getting  scarce,  and  there  certainly  is  hen 
souse,  though  it  is  hard  to  find.  Piacti- 
cally  all  I  find  to  read,  about  liens,  is 
from  the  big  fellows,  and  more  than  once 
have  I  made  an  expensive  fool  of  myself 
in  trying  to  ape  them  with  my  humble 
flock '  of  less  than  a  hundred.  Their 
whole  method  of  care  and  their  fancy  ex¬ 
pensive  balanced  ration  of  feeding  is  as 
much  suited  to  me  as  a  city  bakery  out¬ 
fit  would  lie  suited  to  our  Summer  camp 
over  by  the  brook.  I  read  of  their  pens 
of  hundreds  and  pens  of  thousands  and 
their  pens  of  breeders  and  their  pens  of 
brooders,  and  I  have  only  one  pen  and 
that’s  full  of  holes — -but  it  contains  -5 
acres — the  size  of  the  farm  !  To  be  sure 
for  a  few  weeks  in  the  Spring  I  have  a 
place  where  I  Rhut  them  in,  a  time  when 
any  old  lien  will  lay  every  day  anyway, 
but  as  soon  as  the  July  beat  came  on. 
the  trap  of  their  henhouse  was  opened 
and  has  never  been  shut  since.  I  fence  in 
tin'  crop,  not  the  hen.  It  doesn't  hurt  a 
crop  to  put  lip  a  fence  on  the.  side  toward 
the  henhouse,  hut  it  does  hurt  the  lieu 
business  to  fence  it:  for  me,  it  kills  it.  I 
used  to  go  in  town  and  get  wonderful 
compounds  said  to  contain  14  varieties 
of  food,  and  all  the  time  the  poor  hen  was 
dying  to  get  out  and  get  what  she  needed 
herself,  with  no  expense  or  trouble  to  me 
at  all.  Just  now  she  is  getting  whole 
corn  on  the  cob.  oyster  shells,  and  skim- 
milk,  and  these  right  where  she  can  find 
them  at  all  limes,  and  I  got  better  than 
50  per  cent,  eggs. 
Out  Or  In. — I  have  some  cheap  fenc¬ 
ing  that  will  stop  hens  and  some  stakes  I 
keep  for  the  purpose  of  putting  up  when¬ 
ever  needed  to  protect  a  crop  or  garden. 
It  takes  only  a  little  time  to  put  ir  up  or 
take  it  down,  and  is  the  most  profitable 
thing  I  do  on  the  farm.  The  hens  pay 
me  big  money  for  my  time.  Only  a  few 
things  need  fencing,  however,  after  they 
have  gotten  a  little  start.  Our  Lima 
beans,  and  bush  beans  and  early  potatoes 
and  beets  and  lettuce  and  cucumbers  and 
squashes  are  right  near  the  henhouse. 
The  hens  have  their  fine  great  dusting 
places  among  the  high  shady  Lima  beaus. 
The  tomatoes  and  strawberries  are  put 
farther  away.  Hens  have  to  be  kept 
away  from  corn  till  it  gets  a  good  start, 
too. 
Keeping  Coot.. — I  know  my  hens 
would  never  lay  as  they  do  shut  up  in  a 
hot  henhouse.  How  well  they  know  the 
coolest  place  ou  the  farm  and  there  they 
gather  during  the  hot  afternoons.  I  hu¬ 
mor  them  with  a  pan  of  skim-milk  right 
handy  aud  a  few  handfuls  of  oyster  shells 
and  really  they  get  about  all  the  rest  of 
the  egg  themselves.  It  is  astonishing  how 
little  grain  I  give  them.  It  is  one  of  the 
beauties  of  a  small  farm  that  you  can 
make  the  hens  a  part  of  the  family.  The 
Pastoral  Parson  loves  to  visit  with  thorn 
while  at  the  chores  in  the  morning,  as 
they  mount  up  on  the  scaffold  and  high 
beams  to  lay,  filling  the  barn  with  their 
singing. 
A  Fowl  Tip. — Did  you  ever  see  a 
woman  start  out  after  supper  to  make  m> 
a  batch  of  bread?  She  gets  out  the  milk 
and  the  flour  and  the  salt  and  the  sugar, 
and  goes  for  the  yeast  cake — and  there  is 
none  !  So  my  liens  start  out  as  soon  as 
the  day  grows  cooler  to  make  up  to-mor¬ 
row’s  eggs.  What  with  singiug  and  cack¬ 
ling  and  waiting  a  turn  at  the  nest  and 
much  more  cackling,  there  was  little  time 
for  work  in  the  forenoon.  Then  it  was 
too  hot  to  work  for  three  hours.  But  now 
towards  night,  she  must  make  every  min¬ 
ute  count.  A  little  grass  here  and  little 
clover  there,  a  few  oyster  shells,  a  few 
kernels  of  grain,  some  nice  fresh  water — • 
but  there,  there  isn't  any  water  1  She 
looks  at  the  dry  dish  as  that  woman 
looked  at  the  empty  yeast-cake  box — and 
there  is  neither  egg  nor  bread  to-morrow. 
A  lien  nibbles  away  all  day,  but  her  big 
dinner  comes  at  night.  So  take  this  fowl 
tip  from  me.  Neglect  your  hens  if  need 
he  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  but  make  sure 
she  has  an  abundance  of  everything  need¬ 
ed  at  night.  Then  you’ll  get  your  egg  in 
the  morning. 
A  Regular  Chore. — My  observation 
would  tend  to  show  that  the  greatest  loss 
among  small  farmers  comes  from  the 
miserable  red  mites  on  the  roost.  This 
lias  been  a  dreadful  year  for  them — the 
worst  I  have  ever  seen.  Every  single 
day  the  roosts  are  examined,  and  the  <>il 
can  is  kept  right  there  handy  all  the 
time.  Ou  wash  days  a  big  du.se  of  boiling 
hot  souii  suds,  thrown  on  the  roosts  with 
a  dipper,  is  sure  death  ti»  the  wretches 
and  costs  nothing.  A  little  attention  put 
into  the  state  of  the  henhouse  regularly  is 
worth  a  good  deal  more  than  fancy  foods 
and  rations  and  costs  a  goad  deal  less. 
Hen  Slavery. — I  once  read  of  a  man 
who  refused  to  he  clerk  to  a  hen,  record¬ 
ing  all  her  deeds  and  feeds.  I  refuse  to 
be  a  slave  to  a  hen.  People  tell  me  they 
cannot,  come  to  the  fair,  as  they  must  be 
at  home  iu  time  to  feed  the  hens  1  There 
is  no  regular  "feeding  the  hens"  on  this 
place.  You  could  call  yourself  hoarse 
and  not  a  hen  would  budge.  But  for  the 
skim-milk  I  could  easily  feed  the  hens  a 
week  ahead — simply  throw  in  a  bushel  or 
so  of  ears  of  corn.  Even  if  that  rail  out 
the  corncrih  door  is  always  open,  and  I 
see  many  of  them  prefer  getting  it  them¬ 
selves  direct  from  the  Crib ! 
Winter  Green  Foon. — As  I  look  out 
of  the  window  even  now  I  see  their  Win¬ 
ter  green  food  all  ready  for  them — 
enough  to  last  easily  till  Spring.  I 
chicken-fence  off  a  piece  light  near  the 
henhouse  and  sow  to  rye  each  year.  It  is 
thick  and  green  now.  By  and  by,  when 
the  frost  lias  killed  the  clover  and  the 
other  grasses  are  brown — down  will  come 
this  fence,  aud  how  they  will  pick  that 
rye  this  Winter!  Usually  not  many 
days  in  Connecticut  but  what  they  can 
get.  at  it. 
Tigs  and  Pastures. — The  greatest 
surprise  the  Pastoral  Parson  has  had 
coming  to  him  this  Summer  in  the  fann¬ 
ing  line  is  the  tremendous  saving  it  is  to 
have  the  pig  run  in  a  pasture.  We 
bought  a  sliote  in  the  Spring,  fixed  it  a 
little  nest  or  house  under  the  corn  barn 
aud  fenced  in  a  pasture  with  tin-  brook 
running  through.  There  was  nothing 
Special  in  this  pasture,  but  common 
grass  and  weeds,  but  it  has  been  a  reve¬ 
lation  to  me  how  little  it  has  cost  in 
grain  or  work  to  keep  that  pig,  and  bow 
it  lias  grown!  It  is  never  regularly  fed — 
iu  fact  I  couldn’t  tell  just  when  it  was 
fed  last.  I  shall  have  a  larger  pasture 
next  year,  with  some  clover  in  it — and 
the  brook.  A  couple  of  late  Fall  pigs 
will  be  just  light  to  turn  out  iu  the 
Spring  as  you  would  turn  out  a  calf,  and 
it  will  cost  little  if  any  more  to  grow  and 
fatten  them.  Never  again  will  we  keep 
a  pig  in  a  pen. 
The  Farm  Trinity. — I  cannot  yet  get 
used  to  it,  no  hag  of  grain  in  the  hind  end 
of  the  express  wagon  !  ( 'lover,  clover,  that 
tells  the  story.  The  cows  are  in  clover 
where  we  cut  off  the  oats,  baiting  them 
there  each  morning.  Corn,  oats,  and 
clover — this  i«  the  farm  trinity  for  this 
section.  The  best  cash  crop  is  the  crop 
you  have  to  buy — aud  that  is  grain,  grain, 
grain.  With  grain  soaring  higher  and 
higher,  fowls  and  animals  That  can’t 
he  kept  without  buying  grain  will  be  dis¬ 
posed  of  ou  this  farm. 
The  Parson  Goes  Sailing.  -The  Pas¬ 
toral  Parson  was  asked  to  go  for  a  live- 
days’  cruise  ou  th‘‘  Sound.  Being  a  laud- 
lubber  through  aud  through  he  hesitated 
somewhat — but  finally  agreed  to  go. 
Early  one  Monday  morning,  in  the 
densest  kind  of  a  fog  he  started  with  the 
"captain”  down  the  Connecticut  River, 
The  first  thing  was  to  get  the  engine  go¬ 
ing  !  An  auto  engine  may  be  cranky,  but 
it  is  not  in  the  same  class  with  a  boat 
engine.  As  I  saw  this  fellow  laboring  with 
the  contrivance  and  the  sweat  pouring 
September  1G,  19 1G. 
from  him.  I  tried  to  estimate  how  many 
bushels  of  potatoes  one  could  raise  with 
half  the  work  !  At  last  the  thing  started. 
“Can  you  steer?"  lie  shouted  at  me,  "I 
can  steer  a  plow,”  I  said.  “Well,”  said 
he,  “take  this  wheel  and  turn  in  the  op¬ 
posite  way  from  which  you  want  to  go." 
Now  the  Pastoral  Parson  has  often  turned 
in  the  opposite  direction  to  which  he 
wanted  to  go,  so  he  took  the  wheel  and 
got  along  fairly  well.  The  fog  grew 
thicker  and  thicker,  and  pretty  quick  the 
captain  went  and  got  a  green  box  and 
put  down  beside  me.  I  looked  on  the  box 
and  it  said  “Greenhorn.”  I  thought  this 
was  rubbing  it  in  a  little,  but  kept  my 
peace.  Later  I  discovered  that  this  was 
a  foghorn  box,  which  I  was  to  putno  vig¬ 
orously  on  approaching  a  drawbridge.  I 
reckoned  I  could  have  pumped  enough 
water  for  two  Monday’s  washings  with 
the  energy  I  put  in  that  thing. 
We  Run  Aground. — We  had  just 
safely  cleared  two  drawbridges  and  were 
heading  for  the  open  when  there  was  a 
fearful  grating  underneath  and  the  thing 
stopped.  We  were  stuck  fast  on  the 
sand,  I  had  turned  it  the  way  we  didn’t 
ivant  to  go  all  right !  The  captain  took  a 
huge  anchor  in  a  small  rowboat  and 
rowed  out  in  deep  water  and  dropped  it 
overboard*  Then  he  rushed  hack  and  both 
got  hold  of  a  rope  ns  big  as  your  wrist, 
attached  to  this  anchor  and  began  to 
pull !  We  were  to  pull  that  50-foot  yawl 
out  to  sea.  How  we  pulled  !  IIow  that 
man  sweated.  Had  the  anchor  or  the 
boat  given  a  hit  wo  avou Id  both  have  gone 
instantly  into  the  Avater.  This  Avould 
have  just  suited  the  captain,  avIio,  by 
the.  way.  was  a  parson,  too.  “If  you’re 
trying  to  see  if  you  can  break  this  liaw- 
80iv"  said  I.  "I  don’t  think  avo  can  do 
it.”  And  we  didn’t ! 
A  “Left-Over”  Sea. — After  a  long 
Avhilo  the  tide  floated  us  and  avo  got  be¬ 
hind  a  breakwater  for  the  night.  The 
next  morning  after  buying  five  lobsters 
avo  started  across  the  Sound.  I  shall  al¬ 
ways  believe  the  captain  had  an  eye  for 
a  full  meal  of  lobsters.  He  said  himself 
he  had  recently  eaten  six  for  his  supper! 
We  got  about:  half  Avay  across  win  n  a 
dead  calm  enveloped  us  as  far  as  the  wind 
Avas  concerned.  Tin-  sails  hung  loose,  but 
there  avoit  great  rollers  on  the  water. 
The  captain  said  it  was  a  “left-over  sea." 
It  raised  us  up  and  dropped  us  down  and 
raised  us  up  and  dropped  us  down  for 
just  about  an  hour  in  a  fearfully  hot  sun. 
Well!  the  captain  came  pretty  near  get¬ 
ting  all  those  lobsters  for  his  supper. 
However,  the  Pastoral  Parson  rallied 
with  the  breeze  in  the  afternoon  and  by 
supper,  time,  having  lost:  his  breakfast 
and  missed  his  dinner,  he  did  such  jus¬ 
tice  to  those  lobsters  that  the  poor  cap¬ 
tain  got  no  more  than  his  share,  if  he  did 
that. 
What’s  in  a  Name? 
We  meet  quite  a  number  of  people  who 
do  not  like  their  oavii  name,  and  they  say 
that,  if  they  had  a  chance  to  name  them¬ 
selves  they  would  he  far  better  satisfied 
Under  the  present  common  system  the 
child  has  nothing  to  say  about  lii.s  own 
name,  yet  that  is  a  life  handle  which  will 
be  attached  to  him  as  long  as  he  lives. 
(If  course  tlmre  are  cases  where  legal 
remedies  have  been  applied  to  cut  off 
a  name  Avliich  is  unsatisfactory,  but  feiv 
people  like  to  do  that.  When  the  name 
is  grafted  on  the  child  Avhile  he  lies  in 
the  cradle,  there  is  little  escape  for  him. 
We  have  heard  of  one  extreme  case  where 
a  baby  was  christened  in  church.  The 
proud  father  carried  the  child  up  to  the 
front  and  held  him  ready  for  the  cere¬ 
mony,  while  his  Avife  stood  by  very  proud, 
and  a  little  tearful,  and  all  her  friends 
looked  wise  and  ns  helpful  as  they  could. 
The  mother  had  picked  out  Augustus 
Claude  for  her  sou’s  name,  and  the  min¬ 
ister  was  to  go  through  the  ceremony  of 
whispering  in  the  father’s  ear  to  make 
sure  of  the  name.  Of  course  the  name 
was  written  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  but  the 
minister  had  left  his  glasses  at  home  and 
could  not  read  it.  Unfortunately  he 
stepped  on  the  father’s  foot  on  fi  point 
where  a  pet  corn  was  awaiting  treat¬ 
ment.  and  at  the  same  time  Avhispered  in 
the  father’s  ear  for  the  name  of  the  boy. 
This  parent  forgot  himself  with  the  pain 
from  his  corn,  and  uttered  the  word 
Avhich  seemed  to  him  most  expressive  for 
such  a  place,  “Jehosliaphat” !  The  min¬ 
ister  got  the  name  aud  actually  christ¬ 
ened  Augustus  f'laudo  as  “Jeboshaphat.” 
and  so  strong  was  custom  that  the  poor 
child  A\-ont  through  life  with  that  name 
grafted  upon  him.  This  is  an  extreme 
case.  yet  there  are  hundreds  of  men  and 
women  in  the  country  who  do  not  like 
the  name  which  their  fond  parents  se¬ 
lected  for  them.  Why  not  let  a  person 
select  his  own  name?  Why  tie  us  up 
to  a  name  before  a\'o  are  liable  to  appre¬ 
ciate  what  it  means?  Why  not  give  us 
a  chance  to  use  something  of  our  own 
judgment  and  our  own  desire  in  putting 
a  handle  upou  life? 
