1899 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
435 
HOPE FARM NOTES. 
Evening on the Farm —1 am sure that many 
grown-up men and women cvn recall a picture 
of memory such as Hope Farm presented one 
night last week. The sun was jast crawling like 
a lazy man behind the hill to the west. It had 
been a hot, dry day, but no w the dew was just 
beginning to form, and a gratef ul coolness seem¬ 
ed to come creeping out from under the trees that 
fringe the swamp. The farm stretched out 
bright and fresh, with the v trying green of the 
corn, potatoes and fruit, and contrasted here and 
there with a streak of scarlet where the Crimson 
clover had been left. Inside the house, supper 
was all ready on the stove. The Bud, the Graft 
and the two Scions were eating their oatmeal 
and milk under the direction of the Cutting. As 
they had pulled up their proper number of weeds, 
and picked up the trash in the yard, they had 
bread and molasses, and they came running out 
with their faces sticky and sweet. The Madame 
and Aunt Patience sat out under the pear tree. 
The day’s work was about over, and they had 
changed their working dress, and spruced up a 
little. Charlie had been working with the Cuta- 
away in the east field. He came down the road 
with Frank and Dan. The horses were tired and 
sweaty, and hung their heads low. How grate¬ 
ful the cool water at the tub Beemed to them. 
Uncle Ed had been planting corn over the hill. 
He came down the lane with his bag and hoe 
over his shoulder. lie walked with the steps of 
a tired man—for feet grow weary In the soft, 
crumbly sand. The voices of the evening grew 
louder as the shadows grew deeper. The chores 
at last were done, and the moon came smiling up 
over the farm as we all went in to eat our hum¬ 
ble supper with sauce of good cheer. The hard 
working day was over! 
Pictures of Memory,-Tnousands of men and 
women who live without much sentiment in their 
lives would have felt strange yeast working 
in their hearts could they have stood in our barn 
door that night. They would have been back, in 
memory, on the old homestead. They would have 
seen Mother with patient, tired face standing 
in the kitchen door shading her eyes, looking out 
over the farm where, through the gathering 
shadows, Father comes slowly and wearily up 
the lane. The girls have on their new dresses 
and bright neckties. Mary blushes as she looks 
down the road where a new buggy and smart 
farm horse have just turned a distant corner. It 
is a picture of memory that Time cannot possibly 
rub away. Somehow we don’t appreciate it 
until It becomes a pictii'e. We seem to make 
pictures as we go along. In later years, we must 
look at them, too. I sometimes wonder if, 50 
ye »rs hence, the grown-up Buds and Grafts will 
find their pictures of memory as true and dear 
as those which we of to-day can trace back to 
the old farm 1 That depends on the feeling and 
faith that go Into the house with the family at 
the close of day. 
Dry as a Done.—We have had one or two local 
showers, yet the farm was a perfect dust heap 
the last of May. Except on one or two very dry 
places, the potatoes did not suffer, as we kept 
the surface well stirred with the cultivator and 
weeder. There were one or two light showers, 
which moistened the soil down about two inches. 
These sprinklings do more good than we think. 
I feel sure that this wetting of the upper surface 
helps to draw moisture up from below, though I 
don’t feel competent to explain why this should 
be so. Our plan is to cultivate as soon as possi¬ 
ble after one of these light showers. There is no 
doubt about the value of humus or vegetable 
matter in the soil In a time of drought. Where 
we plowed under the clover, there is still mois¬ 
ture enough—a mere scratch with the hoe will 
show it. Places where the manure was plowed 
in show moisture, too, but not as much as where 
the clover sod was used. 
A Local Shower.—Sunday, May 28, was a day 
of weather-wrestling. Cloud after cloud formed 
in the west and north, and died in the effort to 
squeeze out just a few drops of water for the 
thirsty potatoes. The air was hot and lifeless. 
Cloud after cloud tried It, but left nothing but 
shadows. At nightfall, the clouds seemed to 
get together up in the hills for a council of war. 
Then they came marching down upon us with 
thunder growling and lightning flashing. Sud¬ 
denly there came a puff of wind. The trees first 
trembled and then bent, and great rain drops 
came pelting—raising little walffs of dust where 
they struck the road. It was good to be under 
such a fire—when all at once the dense clouds 
p trted and went growling and flashing off to 
the north and south, leaving Hope Farm dry and 
thirsty still. Almost before we could complain, 
another army started, this time right down our 
valley. This time the rain fairly drove us in¬ 
doors. It gave the upper three inches of soil a 
good soaking. In the morning, I found the soil 
three miles away from Hope Farm as dry as 
ever! Well, we’re thankful. Old Drought, they 
tell me, is cuttiagdown the potato crop in the 
South, while old Deluge is dealing gently with 
our own crop. Such small favors are thankfully 
received. 
Insect Enemies.—Strange to say, we have had 
no trouble thus far with the Currant worms. We 
expected them, and got the hellebore all ready, 
but the worms kept off. The currant crop looks 
promising, but it is not usually profitable for us. 
There are, apparently, no insects that trouble 
our strawberries. They have fruited heavily, 
but the dry weather will, probably, cut down the 
crop. We have one bed of Parker Earles made 
np of four-year-old plants, that are perfect 
masses of fruit. We have kept them in hills, and 
each Spring have rounded the earth about them 
so as to keep the crowns well protected. The 
hard-shelled Potato beetles are now very numer¬ 
ous. We kill all we can find, and destroy the egg 
clusters on the underside of the leaves, but there 
will be a perfect army of slugs upon us later. 
The dry weather gives the Black flea-beetles a 
great chance. The potatoes are growing so 
rapidly that I do not think these little black 
rascals will do us much damage. I observe that 
both of these potato Insects are worst on certain 
varieties. We plauted one barrel of southern 
second-crop seed, which made strong vigorous 
plants with a single upright stem from each 
piece I have not been able to find any egg 
clusters on the leaves of this variety, and the 
flea-beetles seem to let it alone. It Is a very rapid 
grower. On May 30, I found potato blossoms— 
48 days from planting the seed! 
Dewey's Dinner.—I see that some rich men in 
New York think of giving a dinner to Admiral 
Dewey that is to cost $1C0 a plate! They want 
500 men who can afford to pay that money for a 
meal, to sit at the tables—for they think that 
would be an exclusive set. So it would, but I 
don’t think Dewey would care to cut the sheep 
out from the goats with a $100 bill! Mighty few 
of these $100 dinner men would have sailed into 
Manila bay to catch the Spaniards before break¬ 
fast. The men who made these Spaniards walk 
Spanish had nothing but coffee, cold boiled meat 
and crackers that morning, but when mixed 
with American pluck and manhood, it made a 
pretty solid balanced ration. Our wealthy friends 
would rather face their $100 dinner than to get 
within gunshot of a Spanish cannon. It is not 
for me to say in which situation they will do the 
world most good. They would, probably, turn 
the cannon-facing over to substitutes who can 
digest “ canned roast beef.” I’d like to see them 
turn their $50,000 dinner over to substitutes in 
the form of poor hungry people who need the 
food! I’ll guarantee Dewey himself would think 
more of them for it. 
Farm Food.—If Dewey will come to Hope 
Farm, we can spend $1, and give him a dinner 
good enough for anybody. Any good farm could 
do it. Let h!m come on the Fourth of July, for 
instance. We can offer him some vegetable soup 
to begin with. Uncle Ed, our fisherman, will pro¬ 
vide the fish. Then Aunt Patience will turn a 
sitting hen into one of her famous chicken pies. 
We would have to buy roast beef or lamb, but 
Hope Farm will give him his choice of lettuce, 
spinach, beets, onions, string beans, green peas 
or new potatoes. There will be enough Parker 
Earle strawberries left to make a fine shortcake, 
or he can have Early Harvest blackberries right 
off the canes. If he likes rhubarb sauce, we have 
It, as well as half a dozen kinds of preserve and 
jam. We can freeze some of old Jersey’s cream 
for him, and he can have eggs in any shape, 
age or style. He can have cold spring water, 
lemonade, switched, tea or coffee, but he can’t 
get any liquor at Hope Farm. I might mention 
that our baked beans, boiled cow peas and fish 
balls are very nice. We think hot cakes with 
sorghum syrup leave a good taste in the mouth. 
But he, probably, wouldn’t care for them. Tne 
Admiral is now an old man. His health is not 
good. If he wants to lie down after dinner he 
may have the front room upstairs. There is al¬ 
ways a cool breeze from the hills. He will be 
quiet there. I will agree to use a shingle on any 
child that lets off a firecracker while he is sleep¬ 
ing. The Bud is included in this. 
There is a dinner good enough for Admiral 
Dewey or anybody else. He would find the Ameri¬ 
can flag flying over Hope Farm, and the sort of 
patriotism that begins at home inside the house. 
But, seriously, there is no good reason why the 
American farmer who takes pride in his calling 
should not have such a Dewey dinner when he 
wants it. It’s in his soil if he will but get it out. 
I know how hard it is to stop and bother with a 
garden or fruit patch, when the main crop is 
pressing, but it pays to do it. There are good 
dinners in it. Think what your city brick-and- 
stone man must pay for a stale imitation of that 
dinner, and then thank the Lord you live in the 
country! _ h. w. c. 
GLEANINGS. 
“ The train killed a neighbor’s hog,” 
writes one of our readers, “so we got 
the carcass for nothing, and made lots 
of good chicken feed, and soap enough 
to run us a year.” So much for a rail¬ 
road ! 
A noted grove of Black walnut trees 
in Michigan, which contained 51 enorm¬ 
ous trees, was recently sold for $10,000 
cash. The Forester says that there was 
strong competition for the purchase, the 
buyers being foreign dealers. It is 
estimated that one of the trees, which 
has a girth of 22 feet, will produce $1,200 
worth of lumber. 
Let it be recorded that the time to 
sow Crimson clover is in the late Sum¬ 
mer. It is a catch crop ; it can be sown 
at the last cultivation of the corn, and 
will make a fair stand, provided there is 
moisture enough in the soil to sprout it. 
This clover will not do well on poor soil. 
It needs good soil and good treatment, 
and is not like rye or cow peas in this 
respect. Use about 12 pounds to the 
acre, and do not be discouraged if the 
first crop kill out. 
A reader in Mexico writes: “Your 
article in The R. N.-Y. of May 6 , page 
348, contains more condensed informa¬ 
tion than I have found in the three 
poultry papers I have been taking for a 
long while, and covers the very points I 
have been striving to attain. That one 
article is worth 10 times your subscription 
price to any man in the poultry busi¬ 
ness.” 
Mr. Fred Wellhouse, who is some¬ 
times styled the Apple King of Kansas, 
says that this year’s apple crop will be 
the largest in the history of the State. 
He estimates that his 1,600 acres of 
apple trees will yield 100,000 bushels. 
The hard Winter injured only the tender 
varieties, and these are scarce in that 
State. Of other fruits, only peaches are 
killed. 
Japan Plums and Frost — I was sur¬ 
prised at Mr. Hale stating that the Japan 
plums would be safe at 25 degrees below 
zero. They have frozen here three Win¬ 
ters at 12 degrees below zero, and I had 
concluded that they are no hardier than 
a peach; but this year they have sur¬ 
vived 16 degrees below zero, while the 
peaches are frozen. w. c. 8. 
Wickliffe, Ohio. 
Shipping Florida Strawberries.— 
The carriage of berries in refrigerator 
crates is satisfactory, but not as to the 
expense, costing 13 cents per quart to 
New York ; so when the berries reach 
you, the expense to the grower is 18 to 
20 cents. It is more satisfactory than 
the open crate, because the berries 
reach the market in better shape. Where 
a grower owns his own refrigerators, it 
is all right. When the weather is cold, 
not freezing, open crates do well with 
careful handling. I think it would not 
pay New Jersey growers to pay the 
extra charges for refrigerators. The cost 
of building a refrigerator is from $4 to 
$5. Prices were satisfactory until near 
the close of the season. We ship from 
the first of January until the last 
of April. Owing to several severe 
spells of cold weather, the crop of ber¬ 
ries was short this season. We quit 
shipping, not for lack of berries, but be¬ 
cause prices got too low. J. A. c. 
Galloway, Fla. 
Long-Lived Strawberries.— T. J. 
Dwyer, a well-known fruit grower and 
nurseryman of Cornwall, N. Y., says 
that he has no doubt that many varie¬ 
ties of strawberries may be continued in 
bearing even 10 or 12 years with proper 
care and cultivation. The Marshall 
strawberry, for example, grown in hills, 
and carefully cultivated and trimmed, 
would, probably, continue to produce 
first-class fruit. Mr. Dwyer says that 
frequently he has noticed three or four- 
year-old plants producing a crop of fruit 
which was better than their first or 
second crop. He is not so sure, either, 
that it would not pay to raise fruit in 
this way. When you come to consider 
the cost of buying, setting and cultivat¬ 
ing new plants, the danger of White 
grubs, and other insects on new ground, 
he is not so sure but the old plants might 
be made to give better results. Strong 
plants well-set in suitable ground, well- 
fed and properly handled, might be 
made, under some circumstances, to last 
as long as peach trees. 
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