390 
JUNE 8 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
CiUx&xy. 
MABEL WHITNEY’S LESSONS IN 
FARM [NO. 
BY G. c. 
• I know,” said Dora, “when we first 
V_r came here, papa bought the binful 
of ashes, and those bones were all through 
them”. 
“My papa,” said Mabel, “has a little 
mill that he grinds bones and shells with; but 
some of these bones will mash with a hammer. 
It you have an old pan that doesn’t leak, fill 
it with the bones and put them in the oven, 
and bake them until they will mash easily. 
Then give them to your hens, and maybe they 
will soon lay you eggs enough to buy a bona 
mill. Papa buys beef bones by the barrel, of 
the butcher.” 
“Miss Wnitney,” said Dora, who was some¬ 
what amazed at Mabel’s wisdom, “were you 
ever poor?” 
“Not very,” laughed Mabel, “and I never 
will be if I can help it.” 
“You have such ideas of economy, and you 
know just what to do,” said Dora. 
“I am only endeavoring to think for you, 
Dora,’ replied Alabel. “My father is a thor¬ 
ough farmer. Nothing goes to waste. Every 
thing is taken care of. No decaying vegeta¬ 
bles are allowed to lie around. Everything is 
kept perfectly clean. He scarcely ever has a 
sick animal of any kind. His neighbors call 
him lucky. Mamma says it is care and good 
management.” 
“We have sick animals enough,” said Dora, 
“We haven’t a pig. They have all died for 
the last three years. They have good feed, 
too, and a good house. It is quite old, but it 
is comfortable for them.” 
“Perhaps the pig-house is what is the mat¬ 
ter ,” answered Mabel. “If our pigs died that 
way, papa would tear the pig-house all down, 
and build a new one somewhere else, and 
would not use a single board of the old one to 
build the new one with.” 
“ What would he do if he hadn’t any boards 
to build a new one?” 
“ I don’t know.” said Mabel, whose confi¬ 
dence in her father’s abilities seemed to be 
unbounded. “ He would manage somehow, 
likely take old rails or slabs, fence in a corner 
of a field, build a shed of rails, and cover it 
with hay or straw.” 
“ Toe longer I live,” said Mrs. Early, who 
had been a silent listener to the conversation 
between Mabel and Dora; “ the more I am 
convinced of our ignorance, and what a vast 
amouut we have to learn. We moved here 
with such bright hopes, expecting that every¬ 
thing that the earth could bring forth would 
soon ne ours, never dreaming of the amount 
of knowledge and skill required to make even 
an ordinary farmer. Last spring a man fre¬ 
quently came by here selling early vegetables 
—radishes, young onions, lettuce and aspara¬ 
gus, looking so green and refreshing, and we 
with nothing of the kind of our own, and no 
money to buy those tempting things with. I 
thought I would gladly give all my knowl¬ 
edge of French, embroidery, or even music, 
to know how to grow these things so early.” 
“Oh, how I wish I could exchange with 
you.” said Mabel, all animation. “ I know, 
with the aid of hot-beds, I could grow those 
vegetables as early as any one; but if I only 
had a piano and could play—don’t you think 
we can exchange accomplishments, Mrs. 
Early? You give me lessons oa the piano, 
and I will help you raise those vegetables in 
the spring.” 
“You! you raise vegetables! ” replied Mrs. 
Early, with a look of astonishment. “How 
did you ever learn?” 
“I was brought up in that kind of an atmos¬ 
phere,” replied Mabel, laughing, “and be¬ 
sides, we take agricultural papers. Papa has 
taken the Rural New-Yorker ever since I 
can remember.” 
“We must do so, too,” said Mrs. Early, “or 
we can never get along. Mr. Early bought a 
book on vegetable gardening; but he says it 
takes so much money to fix things in the man¬ 
ner which that speaks of. But I will willingly 
give you instructions on the piano, Mabel,for 
the extra lessons that you give Dora.” 
“And you shall have your early vegetables, 
dear Mrs. Early; I will devote my mornings, 
evenings, and Satu rdays, to music and hot¬ 
beds,” said Mabel, as she followed Dora out 
to her chicken-yard. 
Mabel knew that if reminded in season,and 
given plenty of time, Mr. Early would make 
the hot-beds for them; and she expected to 
get seed from her own home. But the prob¬ 
lem of sash was not yet solved in her busy 
brain. She was afraid it would cost more 
than the Earlys could well afford, but one 
day,on one of her return trips from her home, 
she overheard two gentlemen in the ddpot 
talking of some chicken-houses that one of 
them intended building; and he was told by 
the other that there was a lot of sash which 
he thought he could get cheap, of a gentle¬ 
man not far from Mr. Early’s. Mabel waited 
to bear no more, but hurried home, the 
chicken-house men never noticing her 
presence. 
“All things are fair in love and war,” said 
Mabel “and we must have those sash. That 
man is rich, and the Earlys are poor.” 
Mrs. Early was much amused when Mabel 
told her of her plans, and was easily persuad¬ 
ed to get Mr. Early—who entered into the 
spirit of the joke—to s art at once to purchase 
the sash, with two or three weeks of Mabel’s 
board money, paid in advance, in his pocket. 
“I bought them cheap,” he said to Mrs. 
Early, on returning. “ I met one of Mabel’s 
ddpot friends. He asKed me where I got those 
sash. I told him ‘from Air. Garriscn.’ * Well 
now,’ he said, ‘I intended to buy those sash. I 
just heard of them about an hour ago.’” 
Fixing and arranging the hot-beds seemed 
to give Mr. Early a kind of impetus in his 
farming; and the more he did, the more he 
wanted to do, Mabel throwing out a hint here 
and there, as delicately as possible, without 
appearing obtrusive. When the hot-beds were 
ready for the seed, Mrs. Early and Mabel said 
that it was their own affair. They planted 
the seed in due time. The sashes were 
partly filled with glass. Where they were 
not, they tacked muslin. Early m the spring 
Mrs. Early’s table was adorned with bright, 
crisp radishes, and lettuce, and they were 
offered quite liberal prices, by their neigh¬ 
bors, for the vegetable plants, which they 
raised in the hot-bed. When peas and let¬ 
tuce came, they seemed to Mrs. Early far 
more luscious, because they were raised on 
their own farm. 
Mabel’s father concluded that it was better 
for her to go to school, than to teach, so at 
the close of the year, she gave up her school, 
and bade a reluctant farewell to the Earlys. 
The following is a letter received by her 
from Dora, the next spring. 
Dear, Dear Mabel: 
I suppose you are studying very diligently 
now. I am going to school. It seems so nice 
to be able to go. 
I wish you could see mamma, now. SShe is 
getting strong and seems so happy and con¬ 
tented. She and I commenced bunching 
vegetables as soon as I came home last even¬ 
ing, and it took until after dark to finish. 
Papa took them out early this morning, and 
hadn’t nearly enough to supply the demand. 
We have another row of hot-beds now, and 
everything that is coming looks well. We 
have a hired man, and mamma has a girl to 
help her in the house. I have 100 chickens 
and 20 hens sitting. Our place looks lovely, 
this spring. How I do love it! People all 
wonder at our prosperity. 
That old gentleman—the trustee—who in¬ 
troduced you to us, said “it all came from 
boarding the schoolmamn ,” and, dear Mabel, 
I believe it. 
I can scarcely wait until the time of your 
promised v.sit. 
Your loving friend, 
DORA early. 
(THE END.) 
£ox tljc (Dmmg. 
WHO SHALL CONQUER? 
W HAT I wish to know is,>is there such a 
thing as making hens lay ? If so, 
Southern hens differ widely from their North¬ 
ern sisters. Having seen the statement of 
,* how to make hens lay,” in your valuable 
paper, as well as a dozen other papers, I 
thought so much proof must be convincing, 
and that whenever an opportunity offered I 
would make the test My hens had always 
laid well during winter, so that, having several 
dozen eggs on hand, I thought I might well 
dispose of them while they were 25 cents per 
dozen, and still collect enough for my Christ¬ 
mas baking, there being fully three weeks’ 
time. But “Lady Bard” who seems to be 
queen of the “ hen dynasty,” and, who is al¬ 
ways lurking about the house, overheard our 
plans and immediately communicated with 
her subjects, who rebelled against the out¬ 
rage, and signed a pledge that they would 
not lay again until the 26th day of December, 
1888. With one accord, they stopped lay. 
ing. At last the golden opportunity had ar¬ 
rived in which I would prove to those hens 
whose will should rule. 1 subscribed for sev¬ 
eral “ Poultry Journals ” to help mo in the 
grand work. 
“-’a condition powders” was my first 
trial. I read over the directions minutely. Yes; 
how plausible it all seemed! I wondered any 
sane mind had not reasoned it out long before. 
I began to sympathize with those hens, think¬ 
ing how they would feel after 1 had gotten 
ahead of them so easily. I prepared the 
medicine, gave it to them, got a cotton basket 
ready in which to collect the eggs; meanwhile 
I would read a chapter or two, to pass time, 
for soon the cackling would begin ; then I 
would have enough to do. One, two, three 
chapters ; still no hen racket. I thought I’d 
go and see how matters stood. The hens had 
finished eating, wiped their bills, and looked 
up with a “ The-time-has not-yet arrived ” 
expression. Still I was not discouraged. I 
thought all that was required was time, and 
morning would surely bring success. But 
morning dawned, night came, still no eggs. 
I used the “ potted meats for poultry,” surely 
these, with the powders, would produce the 
desired result; but the hens only “smiled” 
and passed on. I used a dozen different kinds 
of powders recommended, but with no suc¬ 
cess. I cooked, boiled and baked for them, 
all to no avail. I gave them red pepper, hot 
victuals, cold victuals; they ate and slept, 
but not an egg did they lay. Some one said 
that scraps from the table would make hens 
lay. I almost starved the family in order to 
have enough scraps for the chickens ; they 
ate them in payment for past services ren¬ 
dered, and went on rejoicing. 
it was no longer the eggs, or gain to be de¬ 
rived therefrom, but will against will. Who 
should lie victor ? Oh! the methods of mak¬ 
ing hens lay ! It’s like trying the different 
remedies for curing a cough. I was becoming 
desperate, when one of my neighbors called 
in—the one that’s always willing to let things 
go at a bargain, “beens’t it’s you,” letting you 
have a dozen eggs for 20 cents, while she sells 
to a stranger for 15 cents per dozen and all 
such neighborly acts. Of cdurse, I spoke of 
my hen trouble. She didn’t know much 
about henology, but “knowed as hens needed 
gravel mighty bad at times.” Yes, gravel 
was what they wanted. With all I had done 
a little gravel was needed to finish the work. 
“Found flue old pieces of broken dishes.'’ 
Everything in the way of a broken dish was 
pounded up; I even wentso far as to let a few 
of my dishes fall and break, that I might be 
sure of enough. The yard looked as if I were 
laying out gravel walks. The hens scratched 
and picked but remained unmoved. “Not 
the right kind of gravel,’’some one suggested; 
“burnt bones,” were what they needed. Come 
to think of it, that did seem best; so i had 
several carcasses brought in, some burnt and 
broken up. The whole place looked like a 
bone yara. 
Strangers coming in remarked that it seem¬ 
ed out of place having gravel walks in a bone 
yard. I only smiled and said: “It was an odd 
fancy of mine.” You see, I did not wish to 
explain furtner, until I could exclaim, “Ec- 
cehomo or Ecce henuo,” or something to that 
effect. 
The bones met with a like fate of all else I 
had tried. Then some one suggested sand. 
Living near a creek where the water ripples 
over sand, I would have no trouble in getting 
that,so I had the negro boy haul sand all day. 
It seemed as if I were raising a sand bank—a 
very appropriate affair since our late storm, 
as no one will have need of any other kind of 
bank for some time to come. The sand only 
hardened those hens’ hearts and they would 
not lay. Oh! what a desperate state of 
mind! How 1 longed to conquer I 
What could I do next ? Meanwhile the un¬ 
assuming neighbor called; again 1 related my 
troubles. She said she didn’t know, she never 
bothered about her hens ; when they got 
ready to lay, it was all right, and when 
they didn’t lay, she just let them alone. I 
thought I would not give much for one with 
so little ambition. The idea of letting those 
hens rove around at their own sweet will, 
while eggs were now 35 ceuts per dozen. But 
it occurrtd to me that every one did not know 
how to make hens lay. It was a knowledge 
possessed by only a few of the intelligent ones. 
I heartily sympathized with her, knowing how 
those hens imposed on one at once so good- 
natured and ignorant. Again, some one sug¬ 
gested lime. Lime, why that was the very 
thing. The shell is partly composed of lime; 
why had 1 not thougnt of it before and saved 
myself all this expense and trouble ? 
The hour of triumph was now surely nigh 
at hand. 1 put lime every where. The family 
on looking out in the morning began to shiver 
and remarked that they had no idea there had 
been a snow storm during the night, and “ Old 
Probabilities ’’noted it down,—“The severest 
snow storm kno wn in th is locality for 20 years,” 
etc. I let them find out the real truth and 
went to see m3' hens. They were all there, 
awaiting further trial, but tue eggs were stil 1 
missing. Some said: “They must roost 
warm.” Bo I put them all in the hen house; 1 
even thought of buying a stove to put in there 
with them, but my means would not allow it. 
Others said : “ They will do better sleeping 
in the open air.” So I took them all out and 
made them roost in the trees. Again, 1 heard 
the suggestions, they were roosting too high or 
too low, so back to the hen house they went. 
Those that were high, I put down low, and 
those that were low, I put up high, dragging 
them about several nights in order to get the 
right hens in the right places, but all for noth¬ 
ing. I went out at night to look at them; 
they were all sitting on the floor; the climax 
had come at last; they would all lay at once. 
On closer examination I found they had eaten 
so much gravel and egg-food generally, that 
they were unable to get on the roosts. 
It’s the night before Christmas. I give up 
all hope; all ambition has died within me. 
I’ve been conquered. Those hens signed a 
pledge and they kept it to the last. If all 
temperance pledges were kept as rigidly, what 
a grand work Temperance Societies would 
do! Christmas morning, I went out to look 
at those hens. They looked up at me, as 
much as to say: “ I told you so!” That was 
the last feather; I could stand it no longer. 
I went into the house and wept bitterly over 
my disappointment. 
It was the day after Christmas, 
When all through the yard 
Every hen was a-cackllng. 
Even old “ Lady Bard.” 
One would have thought it Easter morning 
and that every choir in the United States had 
burst forth in one grand anthem of praise; 
but it was only those hens who had conquered, 
and were now ready to resume business. 
I merely write this to warn all who are not 
physically strong enough to bear severe dis¬ 
appointments against, “ making hens lay 
against their will.” Should they be so rash, 
they will surely come to an early grave. 
M. c. B. 
Ptollattcoutf gMmtissing. 
THE R. N.-Y. 
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