1900 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
HOPE FARM NOTES. 
A Cabbage Head. —This may he what 
I shall build on my shoulders before 1 
am done, but I hope not. There is one 
square field below the spring that we 
found in grass. It was mostly poor stuff 
—full of weeds. Water can be run from 
the spring all over this field. It seemed 
to me a mistake to hold it for a pasture 
or poor meadow. We often see farmers’ 
wives who are women of culture and 
brains. The Madame says it is 1 all 
wrong to make such women fry pork 
and boil potatoes for hired men when 
they are capable of doing far better 
work. In much the same way it seemed 
all wrong to let this field half work 
when it might be made to do much bet ¬ 
ter. So after haying we had that sod 
plowed. Each day’s plowing was har¬ 
rowed at once, and the field was worked 
four times with the Acme. This gave 
a fine and mellow surface with a firm 
bottom. We marked 2 y 2 feet each way, 
and began setting July 10. It took 11,800 
plants to fill the field. When they quit 
the boys felt as though they had drop¬ 
ped sections of their backbones in the 
field. That is a big army for us. We 
have handled 1,000 before now, but we 
realize that we have a big job on hand. 
Practically every plant is alive, and we 
have put fertilizer around them, and 
have cultivated carefully. Cabbage has 
been very low thus far, and reports are 
that an immense area has been planted. 
That isn’t our fault—we shall do the 
best we can to make those plants gi*ow, 
and then talk about selling. 
Plant Habits. —This cabbage crop 
has forced me to find out all I can about, 
the habits and needs of cabbage. Each 
farm crop has its peculiarities—just like 
the animals or the people found on the 
farm. Cabbage is much like a cranky 
man—it doesn’t like to be bothered too 
much. I think one can easily overdo 
the cultivation. I find people who pre 
fer to set the plants in Wide drills, so 
that working can be done only one way. 
I think you can easily hoe cabbage too 
much. Like some men, it can’t stand 
too much attention, but will get such a 
case of the 'big head that it will split 
open.The potato is another 
plant with mighty fixed habits. As I 
have stated before, we planted nearly 
eight acres of potatoes on Fall-plowed 
sod without Spring plowing. I knew 
what was likely to happen, but I took 
the risk, ais it seemed best—all things 
considered. I am likely to lose by it. 
The hot broiling sun. after a heavy 
rain, has baked the soil like a brick— 
just at the time when the tubers should 
be making their best growth. A good 
share of that crop will be small tubers. 
Spring-plowed land on the same hillside 
does not bake that way. I have been 
caught that way once before, which is a 
thing I hate to admit. We have killed 
the old sod out, however, and that is 
something. Had we plowed it up, and 
given it a new start, it would have 
dogged us for years. 
Home Notes. —Not long since the 
Madame and Aunt Jennie packed up a 
basket of lunch, hitched up old Major, 
and with the four children started off on 
a picnic. They had only one definite 
errand, but aside from that they didn’t 
much care where they went. Old Major 
shuffled easily along with frequent stops. 
They had a box of oats, and he ate din¬ 
ner with them. They went over new 
roads, through shady places, and stopped 
by springs and pleasant streams. The 
Madame measured on her road map that 
the day’s trip covered nearly 20 miles. 
They had a glorious time—a much more 
successful picnic than they would have 
had in dressing up and going miles 
away. Many farmers do not realize the 
fun and rest they might have on just 
such a trip through their own country. 
.... In telling the story of the Graft, 
I neglected one little point. After he 
had been with us several days he began 
to follow the Madame about like a little 
dog. He would creep up to her and say: 
“I want you for me mudder, an’ dot man 
what is here for me fader!” It would be 
a great thing, wouldn’t it, if we could all 
pick out our parents to suit ourselves! 
. . . . “This is the best dinner we 
ever had!” That remark was made by 
the Bud as khe sighed her satisfaction 
over a chicken bone on Sunday. Hope 
Farm folkis had certainly been well fed. 
Charlie, the day before, killed three 
young roosters and Aunt Jennie had 
them all in a chicken pie which taxed 
the capacity of the largest pan on the 
place. There were also three dozen ears 
of sweet corn, a dish of potatoes, and 
another of sliced cucumbers, with plenty 
of bread and butter and a dish of baked 
apples 'in the pantry. Out in the kitchen, 
held in reserve, the Madame had a can 
of her famous lemon ice. Yes, it was 
a good dinner, and the butcher and the 
grocer didn’t make much out of it. 
Small Hits. —Apple time has started, 
and all walking things at Hope Farm, 
from Billy Berkshire up to the boss, re¬ 
joice. We have too many early apples. 
There is little sale for them, but they 
make fine feed. I am not yet prepared 
to turn the pigs into the orchard to keep 
these apples cleaned up. That is a weak 
point in our methods.I want 
no more ducks at Hope Farm. This de¬ 
cision was reached after trying to carve 
a good specimen before a large audience 
of hungry people. The Madame voiced 
their sentiments as I slid that bird 
around. No, chickens are good enough 
for me.This being our first 
year on the farm we have no cultivated 
bush fruits. We had to buy our straw¬ 
berries. You often hear these farmers 
say that they don’t care to grow fruits 
—it's cheaper to buy them. I know how 
many berries their family will have if 
left to themselves. At the back of the 
farm are .many wild blackberries and 
huckleberries. “The big girls,” as we 
call Aunt Jennie and the Cutting, pick 
many of these berries and cook them 
into various dishes that do much to en¬ 
noble agriculture! .... I have one 
small field now used as a pasture which 
does not do its duty. Tough, worthless 
grasses and weeds have occupied the 
land. I mean to have it plowed shortly 
after August 1, and sown with a mixture 
of oats and rye. The oats I want for 
Fall pasture, and I hope to see some of 
the rye next year. I am not ready yet 
to seed it to grass. I think the southern 
turf or Winter oats will give better pas¬ 
ture. 
A Baby Cow. —Last year I got things 
a little mixed up in telling about our 
“new daughter,” so this time I will start 
right in without ifs or ands and say that 
old Jersey has presented us with an im¬ 
mature cow. This is her third succes¬ 
sive daughter, and like her sisters, this 
little thing has the color and shape of 
her mother. The father was a Holstein 
of good breeding, but in color and ap¬ 
pearance the calves are models of the 
old cow. We are all much pleased at 
this, for I have in mind a choice herd of 
cows of uniform color and size. The 
Holstein blood ought to show itself in 
an increased milk yield. The new calf 
is to be called Daisy—that’s what she 
certainly is.I have one field of 
cow peas near the barn which is to be 
cut for hay or green fodder. In half the 
piece we sowed Kaffir corn, and in the 
other half sorghum. The object was to 
hold the pea vines up so they would cut 
better. Thus far the sorghum proves 
far better for this purpose than the 
Kaffir. It seems to make a quicker and 
stronger growth. 
Tiie Blight. —The potatoes showed 
little indication of disease until the fierce 
hot weather of middle July, which fol¬ 
lowed the heavy showers. The early va¬ 
rieties were about done, anyway, but 
the Rural Blush began to quit, and in a 
short time there was quite a change in 
the appearance of the field. The same 
thing was to be seen in most of the 
fields through our section. We should 
have used the Bordeaux Mixture before, 
but we went at it. and mixed a good 
mess, and sprayed so as to do what we 
could to save the vines. Most of the 
experiment-station people seem to as¬ 
sume that farmers know all about this 
mixture, but I doubt whether five per 
cent of them ever saw it, or fully un¬ 
derstand what 'it will do. I tell the boys 
that we must copper-plate those vines— 
for something of the same reason that 
the bottom of a ship is copper-plated. 
The sulphate of copper does this, and 
the lime helps it stick and keeps it from 
burning the vines. We can use three 
parts of sweet oil and one part of car¬ 
bolic acid for wounds or sores on the 
horses. So long as that mixture 'is on 
the flesh the sore cannot spread. While 
the Bordeaux is on the leaf the blight 
disease cannot spread. That is why we 
should get it on early, and not wait, as 
we have done, until it may be too late. 
II. w. c. 
BRIEF FARM MATTERS. 
I have a two-acre orchard, and an 
uncle has 50 or more trees that were 
raised from just such trees as were de¬ 
scribed on page 467. taken when the 
trees were quite small. I would not trade 
my orchard for any nursery orchard in 
this neighborhood, though Father did 
not lay out the orchard in the proper 
way. He secured grafts from trees that 
were in bearing, and I think It says to 
graft from the best bearing trees. I 
learned to bud and graft from Father, 
and have had many a pleasant hour 
watching the young shoots grow from 
the wild state to the fine sorts of fruit 
that we have in the improved varieties. 
I have 12 varieties of grapes. I found 
two seedling grapevines in the garden, 
which I shall try to nurse, and see what 
will come of them. I raise pure “pedi¬ 
greed” potatoes. I call them potatoes 
with a pedigree. I select about three 
tubers of the type of a variety and 
plant; the next year the best of thes3 
make enough for seed of one variety. 
Have had 4% bushels from three tubers. 
I plant only two acres, and have from 
two to four varieties, besides a lot of the 
most promising varieties that I test. 
Most of my potatoes now I received from 
The R. N.-Y. in the shape of a four- 
ounce tuber. Very heavy rains for the 
past two weeks have washed my corn 
and potato fields considerably. The hay 
crop is light through this section. 
Black Ash, Pa. w. H. m. 
CALIFORNIA RHUBARB AND OATS. 
In Hope Farm Notes of June 9 you 
say “It is said that rhubarb will kill or 
sicken hogs,” and ask, who can tell? I 
will give you my experience for what it 
is worth. About 25 years ago we had 
two rows of rhubarb, about five rods 
long, across one end of the garden, ad¬ 
joining the hog pasture, and as there 
was no sale for rhubarb, and we could 
not use a quarter of it, we used to mow 
it off with a scythe every two or three 
weeks all Summer, and throw it over to 
the hogs. The hogs used to eat it up 
clean, and call for more, and we never 
had any sick hogs. I also saw in Hope 
Farm Notes a few weeks ago where you 
had sown oats to be cut green for hay, 
and speak of putting on nitrogen to in¬ 
crease the growth of the straw. I send 
you a specimen of our oat hay; it is a 
good average of the field where it grew, 
and it was so thick on the ground that 
one could hardly walk through it. Do 
you think a little nitrogen would have 
helped this crop, or would putting the 
land through a course of cow peas an¬ 
swer the purpose as well? t. e. b. 
Livermore, Cal. 
R. N.-Y—Rhubarb is so “’healthy” for 
humans that it ought to be good for 
hogs. The sample of oat hay measured 
seven feet and one inch in length. The 
head, or grain, was not quite so large as 
that on our New Jersey oats. We wish 
531 
we could raise such fodder at Hope 
Farm. No—there is no lack of nitrogen 
in soil that will make such oat straw as 
that. We could use such soil for a fer¬ 
tilizer, but we would have to bring the 
climate along with it, and that would 
interfere with some things about the 
Jersey climate that suit us well. 
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ditllculty in breathing. After usin^ other remedies, 
without relief, I was advised by a friend to try 
Jayne's Expectorant, which I did, and before the 
second small bottle was gone. I was entirely well.— 
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