67o 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
September 23 
THE SHORT COURSE IN AGRICULTURE. 
Whai Farm Boys Think of it. 
As most readers know, many of the agricultural col¬ 
leges now give a short course during the Winter. This 
Is designed for boys and men who cannot well take the 
time to attend the college during the Summer. These 
courses are designed to give the student an Insight into 
some of the “whys” of agriculture. Some men of middle 
years attend these courses. We are often asked whether 
it pays to try to spend this time at the college. For 
answer, we propose to let some of the students talk. 
Here are letters from farmers’ boys. We shall hear 
from older men later: 
Wants to Make a Stockman. 
The instruction and training that I received in the 
short course of agriculture at Madison are, and will 
he, of much practical good to me as one who intends 
to follow agriculture as my life work. The expense 
for attending the course of two Winters of three 
months each Winter is not a considerable amount, 
as there are no tuition charges for residents of this 
State, and board and rooms can be got at very rea¬ 
sonable prices. 
The line that most interested me was animal hus¬ 
bandry, although the other studies were extremely 
interesting, and afford much information that can be 
utilized in nearly every operation in farm work. In 
live stock we were first given drill with the score 
card on the different kinds of live stock. The prin¬ 
cipal use of the score card is to teach the importance 
and different values of different parts of an animal, 
and call attention to the weaknesses and strong 
points, as well as the true type and characteristics of 
the breed. In a study of the breeds, we are taught 
wherein one breed differs from the other in the dif¬ 
ferent colors, size, markings, form and general char¬ 
acteristics. I think I have a pretty fair knowledge 
of the different breeds of horses, cattle, sheep and 
hogs, and wherein one breed is superior and one in¬ 
ferior to another; also how the characteristics of one 
compare with another. I think I can safely say that 
the instruction received there will certainly enable me 
to breed, select and feed live stock better than if I 
had not taken the course. 
In farming, people go around and do certain things, 
when if they were asked why they do a thing that 
way and this way, they could not tell the reason; or 
perhaps, that is the way their fathers or neighbors do 
it. In the short course, we are taught the whys and 
wherefores of many things, such as cultivation, bac¬ 
terial development, deep or shallow tillage, soil fer¬ 
tility, and many other things, so that from the work 
we do, we are more certain of the results that will 
come about. I can say from my own knowledge that 
students taking the course do take positions of greater 
responsibility, and consequently command more 
wages than ordinary farmhands. In my own case, 
had I not had work of my own, I might have accepted 
a position as manager of a dairy of 150 Jersey cows. 
I think that young men that have, first, the ambition, 
and second, the desire for more information in their 
line of work, cannot afford to miss this opportunity. 
To get the most out of the course, one should have a 
fairly good education, as he will be better able to 
handle the work, and get the most out of the lectures 
and different calculations that he is expected to per¬ 
form. L. P. MARTINY. 
Wisconsin. 
An Iowa General Farmer. 
I certainly think the time spent at Madison last 
Winter was well spent, as I consider the work in¬ 
tensely practical. I am especially interested in the 
stock business, and think that, were I unable to 
finish the course, what I have already learned would 
be of great benefit to me. Suppose a young man does 
not care to raise stock, but simply carry on a farm, he 
will there be taught the needs of the soil, how to man¬ 
age it under different conditions, what particular 
grain is best adapted to certain soils, etc. If he is in¬ 
terested in fruit farming, he will learn how to select, 
plant and care for his fruit, and will thus be enabled 
to carry it on more successfully. If he is of another 
turn of mind, and wishes to go into the dairy business, 
the lectures by Dr. Babcock and Prof. Carlyle, and the 
regular training in the farm dairy will enable him to 
produce a first-class article that will command a good 
price. And if, like myself, he desires to become a 
general farmer and stock raiser, the information he 
will receive will be of almost untold value to him, for 
he will have a practical knowledge of the characteris¬ 
tics of the different breeds, and be better able to de¬ 
cide which breed is best adapted to the conditions ex¬ 
isting in his particular locality. He will Know more 
about how to care for and raise a good animal, and, 
what is more, he will know a good animal when he 
sees one. All this, to say nothing of the practice in 
the blacksmith and carpenter shops, and the study of 
other subjects which cannot but be interesting and 
useful to any farmer. 
I would, most assuredly, advise any young man who 
intends to become a farmer to take this course. If a 
young man is to start in business, or become a pro¬ 
fessional man, and be successful, he must be educated. 
How much more necessary that the farmer, who is 
constantly meeting new conditions and questions hard 
to solve, should oe able to meet them intelligently. 
A farmer cannot be too well educated along his 
especial line of work, therefore, I say, let every young 
man thoroughly prepare himself for the work which 
he has undertaken. vernon glidden. 
Iowa. 
PICKLES FOR PROFIT. 
The Crop That Helped Earn a Farm. 
This is a true story of grit, cucumber pickles, and 
hard work. To these must be added strawberries, 
push, and potatoes; altogether, a queer combination— 
but it won. Mr. C. W. Gilleland, of Van Buren 
County, Mich., supplied the grit, push, and hard work 
—in liberal quantities—and Dame Nature did the rest. 
The 40 acres which comprise his farm were wild land 
two years ago—a mass of stumps, logs, and brush; 
to-day, when I drove over to see the place, I found a 
remarkable change. 
“And all owing to cucumber pickles?” I asked, in 
amazement. But few stumps remained; 28 acres were 
cleared and under cultivation; a neat cottage had 
been built—yet I knew that this young man had 
started two years ago with “nothing down and no¬ 
thing a month,” or thereabouts. 
“Not entirely to cucumbers,” he replied, “but the 
pickles have certainly done a large share of it. What’s 
more, I like the crop on account of what it has done 
for me.” 
“How many acres?” I asked. 
“Two, all we can tend to, and get pickers for.” 
“And what does it pay you per acre, on an aver¬ 
age?” 
“Somewhere around $50 net; some years more, some 
years less. It takes new land to do it, though; cucum- 
SORTING THE CUCUMBER CROP. d'Fig. 251. 
bers seem to do better on virgin soil.” 
“When do you plant, and how much seed per acre?” 
“Usually about June 15—the bugs are not likely to 
be so plentiful then. The factory furnishes the seed- 
one pound to the acre—taking the price (40 cents per 
pound) out of the crop. We plant in hills five feet 
apart each way, and cultivate as for field corn until 
the vines cover the ground. Of course, considerable 
hand hoeing has to be done, too.” 
“You sell to a local factory, then?” 
“Yes; under contract. The factory agrees to take 
the crop—subject to certain conditions as to grading, 
etc.—f or 75 cents per 100 pounds (about two bushels). 
The picking is done in half-bushel baskets, and the 
pickles are sorted after being brought to the packing 
shed. As you see, Fig. 251, our shed is only a rough 
affair of poles and blankets, aid the grading stand a 
simple homemade one. Grading is done entirely by 
the eye—and hands; two to four inches long is the 
required pickle size. Seconds—that is, those running 
four to five inches long—are taken by the factory, but 
at the reduced price of 30 cents per 100 pounds. Any¬ 
thing above this size, or over-ripe, is unsalable.” 
“Then you must have to pick every day or so.” 
“We do, or the pickles would soon be full grown 
cucumbers, and, worse yet, they would stop yielding. 
Unless the weather is cold, the patch must be gone 
over regularly every two days, and every cucumber 
over two inches long must come off. Just missing one 
day, in warm, ripening weather, means quite a loss 
to us.” 
“What do you pay the pickers?” 
“Thirty cents per 100 pounds. In some instances, 
pickle growers pay by the day for such help—$1 for 
10 hours’ work, and it’s mighty hard work, too; 
there’s nothing harder that I know of—unless it’s 
clearing and stumping. Strawberry picking isn’t in 
it for real hard, back-aching work. Just try it and 
see!” 
“How many pickers does it require to handle your 
patch?” 
“Four, if they are hustlers. This year, we started 
picking August 5, but as the weather kept unusually 
cool until lately, we were able to keep up with the 
work without hiring. Now that it’s warm again, we 
have to hire help. It’s often difficult to get good 
pickers, so we are sometimes obliged to overwork at 
it ourselves. If every pickle eater would pick a 
bushel of his favorite appetizer—he wouldn’t need 
any appetizer; the only problem would be, where to 
get dinner enough!” 
In walking over the farm, I noticed a fine field of 
buckwheat, and one of German millet, also a new 
strawberry patch, with runners setting nicely; a po¬ 
tato patch, and a promising young peach orchard. 
“So you go in for strawberries and peaches too, do 
you?” 
“Yes, strawberries are, next to pickles, my main 
money crop. Some years they pay better than pickles. 
The peaches I set on that high land because it seems 
just the place for them; they ought to be earning 
something in a few years; then we can cut down the 
pickle acreage a little, and save our backs.” 
Further conversation with Mr. Gilleland developed 
some interesting details. The story of how some big 
business enterprise came into existence, has a cer¬ 
tain charm; but the story of how a farm was evolved 
from chaos, without money or backing of any kind, is, 
to my mind, the most interesting of all true stories. 
“I started with $50, a pair of hands, and a few 
clothes. Yes, I had a horse, too, one that cost $6 in 
a year when horses sold for almost anything. I had 
no land, no house or barn, no harness, no tools— 
nothing but the $50 and the cheap horse. Well, I 
finally managed to buy these 40 acres, on a contract, 
paying my $50 down to bind the bargain. Then I 
pitched in and cut enough stove wood from logs and 
odds and ends (the standing timber being already 
gone), to buy a harness and a few necessary farm 
tools, etc. Next, I cleared off a piece of the land, and 
planted, potatoes; they panned out first-rate, and I 
sold them for enough to buy lumber and material to 
build this house with. I did a good deal of the build¬ 
ing myself, and sailed as close to the wind as I could. 
Sometimes I worked on my own place, and sometimes 
I worked for the neighbors, or at any job that came 
handy and promised a few dollars.” 
“Didn’t you get discouraged now and then?” 
“No; I hadn’t time. I kept on clearing, a little at a 
time, and soon I had strawberries and cucumbers 
agoing; then the money came in faster, and I was 
enabled to buy a wagon and another horse and har¬ 
ness. That’s about the story, though you couldn’t be¬ 
gin to get all the hard work into it if you wrote all 
day. I’ve done pretty well, altogether, and am thank¬ 
ful. I’ve made payments on the farm; I’ve bought a 
good new team and a brand new wagon; there’s fur¬ 
niture in the house, and tools enough on the farm. 
The farm that I bought for $800 two years ago, is now 
worth $2,000. We are only four miles from town, and 
this one-time wilderness is settling up fast.” 
W. E. ANDREWS. 
FRUIT INSPECTION LAWS IN WASHINGTON. 
Keeping Out Inferior California Fruit. 
Your reference to the strict quarantine in Seattle 
(page 606) against fruit coming from California in¬ 
fested with the larvae of noxious insects, especially 
the Codling moth, from which we on the Puget Sound 
are practically free, leads me to say that our statute 
here is based largely upon the California law, and 
gives the inspector the power to condemn and destroy 
such infested fruit, also such as may be decayed and 
dangerous to the public health. San Francisco, here¬ 
tofore, has been too much in the habit of making 
our Puget Sound ports a dumping-ground for much 
of her surptus and refuse stock, when her own mar¬ 
kets were congested. This fact has done more to in¬ 
jure our fruit interests here than anything else—not 
alone from the spreading of dangerous insect pests, 
but from the general demoralization of prices here as 
the result. We have an inspector now at Seattle, the 
principal port of entry and distributing point, who is 
strictly enforcing the law, much to the delight of our 
fruit growers, and the disgust of the larger com¬ 
mission merchants of-that city. 
When secretary of the old State Board of Horticul¬ 
ture, I had much to do with the drafting of the present 
horticultural law, and I do not believe that its pro¬ 
visions relating to the inspection and condemning of 
goods proved to be infested and dangerous to the pub¬ 
lic health and interests, will be found to conflict with 
the interstate laws regulating commerce. In only one 
respect do I think it bad in its present form, as 
amended by our last Legislature. Our old horticul¬ 
tural law provided for seven districts in the State, 
with an inspector in each, at a cost of about $2,000 a 
year, in all. Now each county is cQmpellqfl to »P- 
