1900 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
HOPE FARM ROTES. 
The Bug Battle. —“The bugs are 
hatching out!” That was the slogan that 
roused the fighting hlood in the Hope 
Farm folks. There are too many possi¬ 
bilities planted in our potato field. We 
can stand mosquitoes, cutworms and 
white grubs, but we have no use what¬ 
ever for the striped beetle. There had 
been thousands of hard-shelled beetles, 
but somehow the soft-shelled rascals 
were slow in appearing. Uncle Ed sug¬ 
gested that the “eggs were not fertile,’’ 
but all of a sudden a perfect host of the 
enemy appeared. Then we called a 
council of war right off. It was damp, 
showery weather. The corn and pota¬ 
toes were full of grass and weeds. Hay¬ 
ing time was at hand. Brent was sick, 
and Charlie had a bad cold. Our large 
potato field runs from the top of a high 
hill lip over the ridge and down to the 
woods on the west side. We have found 
a fine spring in these woods, and the 
boys sunk a barrel below it, so as to 
provide a good supply for spraying. I 
bought an Eclipse pump this Spring for 
spraying trees, and also secured an at¬ 
tachment said to be very fine for spray¬ 
ing potatoes. We had in addition a 
Paris-green gun, a small knapsacs 
sprayer, and a Dew-ey and a churn 
sprayer made by Leggett & Brother. 
For ammunition we had a supply of 
Paris-green and Paragrene, Leggett’s 
combination of dry Bordeaux and Pari-s- 
green, and Boxal, Bodo and Disparene, 
the new remedies from the Bowker 
Chemical Co. 
Opening Fire. —East year we used the 
dry powder with great success, but it is 
hard to “keep your powder dry’’ when 
the wind is blowing your way, and it 
blows constantly on our hill. The bugs 
were as well intrenched on the vines as 
the Boers on some of their hills. It 
looked as though the artillery were 
needed to drive them out. Uncle Ed got 
a turpentine barrel, sawed out a hole in 
the top, and fitted the pump in. The 
Eclipse pump goes right down to the 
bottom of the barrel, with a big fan or 
flapper to keep the water stirred up. The 
potato spray attachment consists of a 
brass rod with three nozzles hanging be¬ 
hind the wagon, and connected with the 
pump by means of a rubber hose. We 
took the top off the market wagon, 
loaded pump and barrel on it, hitched 
up old Frank, and the gun was ready 
for the charge. The boys looked a little 
doubtful when I brought out a can of 
Boxal and said “Use this first!” They 
knew that “green” would do the job— 
why fool with new and untried ammuni¬ 
tion with the enemy in sight? There is 
something in that, yet a part of our job 
is to try new methods and matters— 
even if we make a few mistakes—for the 
benefit of our readers. The Boxal is a 
bluish-colored paste. It' looks to me like 
a mixture of arsenic, lime and sulphate 
o»f copper. We dissolved or mixed the 
Boxal in a bucket of water, and then 
poured it into the barrel. Then Charlie 
took me lines and Hugh took the pump 
handles, while Uncle Ed aimed the noz¬ 
zles. “Get up, Frank!” and the battle 
was on. 
Nozzle Knock-Outs.— The pictures in 
the catalogue show this sprayer worked 
by two men—without attention to the 
nozzles. We tried that, and found that 
at least 10 per cent of the plants were 
skipped. There would be a little jog in 
the row, a big stone or an uneven place, 
which would throw the nozzle out o f 
aim. I determined to do a good job, and 
so Uncle Ed walked behind and tapped 
the nozzles back and forth as needed. 
In this way every plant was wet. Noth¬ 
ing was missed by the mist that came 
through those nozzles. The work was 
going like a charm, when all at once the 
nozzles clogged, and you couldn’t force 
a drop out. It looked as though the 
Boxal had boxed them up. We might 
have quit right there and condemned it 
for good, and said “I told you so!” But 
451 
we try to avoid judging things, whether 
it be a man’s heart or a nozzle, by sur¬ 
face indications, at Hope Farm. The 
nozzles were opened and found to be 
clogged with fine sawdust. When Uncle 
Ed cut out the hole he left some dust in 
the barrel. This dust and the turpentine 
driven into the nozzles clogged them. 
They were cleaned out, and then sprayed 
like a charm. The Boxal left a whitish 
film on the leaves. We tried the Bodo, 
which is a pasty form of Bordeaux, 
alone, and also mixed in the barrel with 
Paris-green and Paragrene. The work 
was slow at first, for it was hard dipping 
up the spring water, but we quit at night 
thinking we had made a hole in the ene¬ 
my’s lines. We woke in the morning to 
find a pouring rain washing the poison 
right off the potato vines into our hopes. 
It rained all day, and the bugs made the 
most of their chance. It kept on rain¬ 
ing, until Friday morning found the 
ground as wet as a sponge, and no trace 
of our poison except where the Boxal 
was used. There the tips were still col¬ 
ored. 
A Big Victory. —Hugh had to take a 
day off Friday and Brent was still sick. 
Here was Sunday coming, with the bugs 
ready to eat more holes than ever on a 
holy day. There were more clouds in 
the sky. “I meant to clean house to¬ 
day,” said the Madame, “but I can’t see 
that crop go—so I will drive the 
wagon!” The ground was too wet to 
drive into the field before noon, and 
there was still too much wind for the 
dry powder. While waiting, Uncle Ed 
reorganized his force a little. The four- 
wheeled wagon was too clumsy. It took 
too long to turn it around at the end of 
the row, and much water was wasted. 
We borrowed a two-wheeled dump-cart 
of a neighbor, and put the barrel in 
that. This saved much time and water. 
With one barrel on the four-wheeled 
wagon 42 rows were sprayed, while the 
same amount on the dump-cart covered 
54 rows. The loss occurred at the ends. 
There was no stop cock on the attach¬ 
ment, and the water kept spraying out 
when they turned. It also took too long 
to dip that spring water up. Uncle Ed 
took another barrel, knocked out one 
end, and sunk it down part way into the 
water. Then he cut a hole in the upper 
end, and could thus set the pump right 
down into the water, and by joining the 
hose together pump the water right into 
the oarrel on the wagon. We fill the 
barrel about two-thirds full, and then 
mix the Bordeaux and “green” in a 
bucket and pour it slowly in as the bar¬ 
rel is filled. It is then the work of five 
minutes to transfer the pump from the 
spring and fasten it in the spray barrel. 
As soon as the mud had dried a little, 
the guns opened fire. The Madame in a 
cali'co dress and a pink sun bonnet, sat 
on the front end of the dump cart and 
drove Frank. Charlie worked the pump, 
and Uncle Ed chased the nozzles. The 
Madame didn’t go to the spring to fill 
the barrel—she ’et her brothers do that, 
while she sat under a tree and read her 
book. Across the lane in the cornfield 
the Bud, Graft and Scion were thinning 
corn at one cent a row. Grandmother 
was in the house, mending, and Aunt 
Jennie was getting supper. Saturday 
was a busy day. When the Potato bugs 
saw that even the women folks were 
after them with pink sunbonnebs on, 
they just threw up their heads and rolled 
over. By night the job was done, and 
we all went in to sample the baked 
beans, brown bread and strawberries. It 
looked like rain, but the shower held 
back, and the result was that millions 
of Potato bugs bit the dust. I have 
learned some things about spraying, but 
this account is too long now. I expected 
to have to follow the big sprayer with 
the smaller tools, but Uncle Ed seems 
to have swung those nozzles just in time 
to hit ’em all! 
All Over. —In fitting up the old 
mower we found several parts shaky or 
broken. The old veteran cost us $10 at 
an auction. These missing fixtures cost 
$4.35. The cost of machine fixtures is 
something awful. I am told that some 
manufacturers make nearly their entire 
profit in supplying broken parts. I can 
well believe it.This is the 
first year I have raised a crop of oats in 
New Jersey that is worth bragging 
about. In former years the crop was 
ruined by smut—or at least it failed. 
This year the crop is fine. Two things 
are responsible for it. The nitrate of 
soda we used in April and soaking the 
seed in formaldehyde. I feel sure this 
soaking destroyed the smut germs and 
gave the plants a better start all around. 
. . . . We have been having a com¬ 
bination of showers, Potato beetles, 
grassy potatoes, crust-covered corn field, 
ripe clover, unplanted crops and undone 
jobs. You can’t attend to all at once, 
and it requires nice judgment to pick 
out the more important. Where are 
those men who are never behind and al¬ 
ways have their work done? Aunt Pa¬ 
tience is quite an artist, and she needs 
a model for an angel! .... Ripe 
cherries and ripe grass come in together. 
The Madame told me last Winter that 
cherry picking is a tremendous job. As 
usual, she was right. Still, there is good 
profit in cherries, if one will make a 
business of it.We are now 
hilling and ridging the earlier potatoes. 
The soil is full of moisture, and I still 
look for a wet July. The chances with 
us are for bad haying weather, and I do 
not like to have potatoes in flat, soggy 
ground.The Kaffir corn has 
started, and the carrots and mangels are 
well up. The young Kaffir looks like 
little spears of Nut grass. Where we 
put it broadcast in the cow peas, it has 
made a fair start, but is so feeble that 
it hardly seems possible that it can hold 
the vines up. I believe that our own 
native corn will make more and better 
fodder than any of these new plants. To 
prove it we have broadcast some of our 
flint corn right beside the sorghum and 
Kaffir. We’ll see! We’ll see! .... 
I have ordered another lot of Shoo Fly. 
The cattle suffer terribly from flies. We 
have tried many things, but this Shoo 
Fly really isays shoo! in a more com¬ 
manding tone than anything else I have 
seen or used. n. w. c. 
Feeding Land. —On another page 
John M. Jamison describes his method 
of keeping up pasture land. The writer 
has visited Mr. Jamison’s farm, and 
knows of the wonderful crops of clover 
that are produced there. Mr. Jamison 
says that the most profitable field on 
the place is his Blue-grass pasture, and 
it has improved 25 per cent in the past 
two years. Since February 15 of this 
year, 190 large two-horse loads of ma¬ 
nure have been handled on this farm, 
and there are now nearly 100 loads more 
to be hauled. About 400 lambs were 
fed through last Winter, and the new 
crop of clover hay finds several tons 
from last year in the barns. Last year 
Mr. Jamison bought 328 lambs for $648. 
He lost 10 per cent of them, and sold the 
remainder, after feeding, for $1,349. The 
gain from feeding 100 of these lambs 100 
days represented $80. All the feed, ex¬ 
cept a little bran, came off the farm. 
Mr. Jamison is a good farmer, and has 
been highly successful in improving his 
farm. The main secret of success is ue 
fact that he feeds the clover and grass! 
Some farmers crowd the manure upon 
other crops, and leave the clover to 
hustle for itself. Mr. Jamison regards 
the clover as the backbone of the farm, 
and tries to strengthen the backbone. 
Rife Hydraulic Engine 
Pumps water by water power. No 
attention— Never Stops. Put in 
place of 
RAMS, WINDMILLS, 
GAS AND 
HOT AIR ENGINES. 
Catalogue free. 
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THE MIETZ & WEISS 
Kerosene 
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Cheapest and Safest 
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purposes. Send for Catalog 
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128 Mott Street. New York 
CHARTER GASOLINE ENGINE 
Any Place 
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For Any Purpoat 
Stationary*, Portable* 
Engine* and Pump*. 
State your Power Needs. 
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WELL 
DRILLING 
Machines 
Over 70 sizes and styles, for drilling either deep or 
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HAVE YOU SEEN THE 
Jack 
of AH 
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WATER— 
SHELLS 
CORN- 
GRINDS 
FEED- 
CHURNS 
BUTTER,- 
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cents per hour to run. Especially adapted 
to farm work. 
it Is a NEW ENGINE made by 
Fairbanks agenoeTT^ 
Patterson, Gottfried 
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New York City. 
Charles J. Jager 
Company, 
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Morse & 
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Chicago 
& 
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If druggist cannot supply send $1.75 for 100-gallon 
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Premiums to Patrons. Get Pamphlet 
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Harness 
Mud 5 ct*. In rtainps to pay postage on descriptive cat¬ 
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