512 
AUG. 9 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
IS FARMING SO “SLOW” AFTER ALL) 
T. B. TERRY. 
“ Farming is slow and hard, and one cannot make 
anything else out of it.” J. S. T., page 466. 
My “boy” and one hired man are getting out manure 
to day. My son helps a very little about the loading, 
mostly to see that it is done properly, and the work is in 
our covered barn-yard, where it is cool and shady ; then he 
gets on the seat and takes a ride while the horses do all 
the work of spreading in a very perfect manner. We 
finished breakfast at seven this morning, and without any 
hurrying the boys easily spread 16 loads of manure before 
noon. Was that “slow” or very ‘‘hard?” Day before 
yesterday at dinner I told the boys that owing to the way 
the barometer was acting I thought we had better get in 
the rest of the wheat. We had drawn in part of it and left 
the rest to get a little drier: so at it we all went, and we 
drew in 300 dozen large bundles during the afternoon, over 18 
tons in weight, and put them where they were safe. Slow 
was it ? Well we do not think so, thanks to the snuguess 
of our little farm, in which the barn is centrally located 
on purpose so that we can get crops in and manure out 
quickly. 
Yesterday, the wheat being all secured (and the hay 
also, long ago) and all the surface in the potato field 
freshly stirred, the young folks thought it a good time to 
go to the lake and get some lilies, as well as to fish, boat- 
ride, etc. Hard was it ? For the last six weeks we have 
had to work pretty hard to do everything just right—the 
weather has been so unfavorable. Yes, we have worked 
about as hard as the average business man in the city does 
312 days in the year ; but the next month will be all vaca¬ 
tion. There are no hard jobs. Wife and I can go visiting 
or on pleasure trips (and we will, too,) to our hearts’ con¬ 
tent ; so may the young folks. In the latter part of August 
we shall have to tend to business for two or three weeks 
again, pretty closely. There will be the potatoes to dig 
and the wheat to put in. But we can dig and put in the 
barn 300 to 400 bushels a day. Slow is it ? And we get 
along so fast that it doesn’t seem very hard, especially for 
the one who rides the digger. Then, in a very short time, 
riding our disk, Cutaway and Thomas, and the roller, we 
will have the ground ready to be drilled for wheat. It is 
news to us that this is slow or hard. I thought it fast and 
easy this year when we followed Breed’s weeder over 
seven or eight acres of potatoes in half a day, cultivating 
and hoeing them all at once. It didn’t seem hard riding 
the piauter while fingers of steel dug the drills, dropped 
the seed-pieces and covered them in rows almost as 
straight as you could draw a line, and an acre every two 
hours we thought was fast. Other fingers of steel cut the 
wheat and bound it, 80 dozen bundles in an hour, while I 
simply held the reins and wondered to see how easily two 
clover fed horses furnished the motive power. Slow was 
it ? Hard was it ? 
Truly our brother J. S. T. must have been asleep for 30 
or 40 years, to say that “ farming is slow and hard and one 
cannot make any thing else out of it.” It used to be slow 
and hard, but all the necessity for that is passed long, long 
ago. It was slow and hard when the men went out with 
their scythes at 3.30 or four o’clock in the morning and 
swung them steadily hour after hour, and it was hard for 
the boys to spread the grass and carry the jug, and turn 
the gindstone; but we do not have time to get either 
tired or thirsty before our six-foot mower cuts off aud 
leaves spread, better than any human hand could do it, 
more grass than we can care for in a day. If J. S. T. had told 
us that on many farms farming was slow and hard ; that 
the farmers were not up to the times; that they worked 
hard enough, butthat for lack of management and system 
and skill in their business they, like many other business 
men, failed to get satisfactory returns; if he had said only 
this, the writer could have slept on ; but when he says : 
“ one cannot make anything else out of it,” he brings the 
writer to his feet with a bound, for he knows that is a mis¬ 
take. We can make our farming as slow and hard as we 
please, or rather it will be so if we just drift along with 
the tide and growl about our hard.lot; but if we will just 
wake up and push things for tne best that is now known 
we can make a life on the farm the most independent, easy, 
healthful and happy that is given to mortals to enjoy. 
But, perhaps, by “slow” he means that the profits of farm¬ 
ing are small. Yes, for the capital employed is small; but 
they are quite sure, and when all is honestly counted up 
they are or may be, in proportion to the money invested, 
really large. About the time when the writer began farm¬ 
ing there were six large leading merchants in our town. 
He was in partnership with one of them for 30 days, but 
after getting a chance to study the inside of the business 
he got out just as quickly as he could. These men were 
worth from $20,000 to $75,000 each. They were intimate 
friends of mine. We were very hard up at first, aud, I 
expect, envied these men their fine homes and abundant 
means. I presume a hundred farmers had this same feel¬ 
ing. But how is it to-day after 20 years ? One by one five 
out of the six have gone under, carrying with them many 
thousands of dollars of other people’s money (much of it 
deposited by farmers—the writer lost by four of the fail¬ 
ures), in some cases the savings of almost a life time—the 
poor man’s all. These merchants were men of more than 
ordinary ability and intelligence, but they failed. Have 
five out of six of our farmers gone under meanwhile, ruin¬ 
ing themselves and carrying distress to many other homes ? 
Not by a long sight. There has been now and then a 
failure, usually from building too expensive buildings, or 
Indorsing for some one, or speculating outside aud neglect¬ 
ing one’s business; but all of them put together have not 
injured the public anything like as much as one of these 
business failures. I tell you, friends, the business does not 
exist that could induce me to sell my farm and put the 
proceeds into it. While these business friends have gone 
down with a crash, the poor farmer has slowly but surely 
arrived at comfort and independence. If the road was 
“ slow ” it was honorable and sure. 
WHAT TO DO WITH AN OLD STRAWBERRY 
BED. 
Exhausted vines; disease; other crops; killing weeds; 
burning; new growth by mowing and covering with 
earth. 
Under favorable conditions of culture and weather the 
strawberry will use up almost its entire life in maturing 
its fruit, leaving the plants too feeble for further profit¬ 
able culture, and they will fall an easy prey to insects and 
blight. The mulching may have contained many weed 
seeds which are now growing, or the plants may have been 
winter-killed so as to be thin in the row. In any of the 
above cases, plow up the bed and use the ground for cab¬ 
bage, celery, millet, fodder corn or wheat. With a good 
stand of thrifty plants, and proper care, a second crop will 
pay a profit. My present method, which has been a suc¬ 
cess for several seasons, is as follows: I go over the bed 
with a mowing machine, cutting off tne plants as closely 
“Inserting a Bud.” A Pomological Study. 
as possible. I keep an old set of knives on purpose for 
rough work, such as mowing the road-side, pastures and 
berry-beds. With a two horse plow I turn a heavy furrow 
upon the plants and another up to the first. I turn all the 
furrows the same way. I use a reversible plow. With 
rows test apart, and two furrows plowed in each row, 
there will be about one foot of plants not plowed up but 
covered with earth. With a spring-tooth, or other heavy 
drag, I go across the furrows in the same direction they 
were turned, coming back where the soil was harrowed 
going down. This rakes off the stones, lumps and loose 
weeds into the trench, leaving only mellow, fine earth on 
the plants. 
All the small weeds are covered and smothered. There 
is no old foliage to blight, rust or mature ; but the whole 
energy of the plant is used to make new growth. Insect 
foes of all kinds are buried and compelled to seek other 
sources of food until a new growth appears. The old 
foliage and mulching plowed under rot and help to fertilize 
the second year. A good coating of rotten manure spread 
on the plants before plowing will not be lost. Some advo¬ 
cate burning the refuse, but I consider this wasteful and 
hazardous. The slight film of ashes left on the ground is 
of little value compared with that of the vegetable matter 
burned. In a wet time one can scarcely burn it, and if 
very dry the burning injures the plants and the soil. In 
one instance a fire was started in the bed just as a shower 
appeared in the west. The ground was very dry and the 
fire made a clean sweep. The idea was to have the fire burn 
across the bed and the coming rain was to put out the fire 
in the soil and cool off the heated plants. The wind veered 
around, and the shower went to oue side. Not a single 
strawberry plant ever showed a green leaf from that day. 
A fire hot enough to kill the larger weeds will kill culti¬ 
vated plants. If of the same age and size the weeds will 
stand the most hardship and live. Fire, water, harrows 
and most hired men have no discrimination; all talk of 
killing weeds by these means without injuring the crops 
among which they are growing is nonsensical, unless the 
operation is performed while the weeds are smallest. In 
this section the last of July and fore part of August is the 
proper time to work over the old bed. The old vines have 
a short season of rest after fruiting, and this work should 
be done any time before the growth starts. The weeds 
that; survive can De pulled by boys, under the guidance of 
some older person. Small boys do well and are the cheap¬ 
est help for such work. By this method the work is done 
by machinery and cheap help, which must be used in order 
to realize a profit in berry culture. C. E. c. 
Peruville, N. Y, 
FEEDING CATTLE IN THE EAST. 
I do not think it will be profitable to feed cattle in the East 
so long as the dressed beef trade continues. It was hard to 
make any profit when we had only live cattle from the 
West in competition ; but now when we have to compete 
with dressed beef there is no money in the business. The 
butchers can now buy dressed beef for about the same 
price per pound that live cattle would cost them and many 
of them prefer to get their meat in that way, as they can buy 
“closer” in everyway—get just enough to supply their 
trade, save the expense of slaughtering, as well as the risk 
of buying cattle that will not turn out as well as they ex¬ 
pected and economize in various other ways. As fast as 
States pass laws to protect farmers against the dressed 
beef monopoly the U. S. Supreme Court declares them un¬ 
constitutional (I might say that everything is now declared 
unconstitutional, that interferes with monopolies). 
I have a friend who was for many years a cattle broker 
and is now interested in the stock-yards in Baltimore. He 
is familiar with the feeding trade of Pennsylvania, Mary¬ 
land and Virginia, and is thoroughly posted on the West¬ 
ern trade. I wrote to him for figures pertaining to the 
cattle trade and he replied as follows: “ The rate on cattle 
from Chicago is 21 cents, or $42 on a car-load of 20,000 
pounds. The rate on dressed beef is 39 cents or $78 on a 
car-load of 20,000 pounds. It costs the dressed-beef men 
about five per cent, commission on sales to dispose of their 
product. About 15 car-loads of dressed beef arrive here a 
week. The live-stock trade has fallen off one-half. I do 
not think feeding or grazing cattle in the East will ever be 
any better, as the dressed beef has come to stay. Stockers 
and feeders were selling last fall for from 3% cents to 3 % 
cents; stables (i. e., cattle from feeders’ stables) are now 
selling at from four cents to 4% cents.” 
Now, suppose we buy a steer of 1,200 pounds’ weight for 
3% cents per pound, feed him for 150 days, gain 300 pounds 
in weight and sell him for 4% cents (I have taken the top 
figures in both cases because if we want to get the best 
price we must buy the best cattle). Our steer cost us $45, 
and we get $74.90 for him; deducting $1 a head and two 
per cent, commission for selling (supposing we are within 
driving distance of market and do not have to pay for 
“yardage” and feeding, which would make our expenses 
much higher), we have left $27.41 to pay for feed, labor, in¬ 
surance, risks of various kinds and profit (!). We must 
bring our entire expenses within the limit of 18 cents per 
day. 
THE OTHER SIDE. 
On the other hand, there may be farmers so situated that 
it costs them too much to profitably market their hay and 
corn; their only way of getting manure is to make it on 
the farm ; their expense for labor is comparatively light; 
the railroads may not charge them quite “all that the 
traffic will bear” on their cattle shipments, and so they 
may come out a little better than even; but the cattle 
feeding business generally in the East is dead, so long as 
the present condition of things prevails. And it is a pity 
that it is so, for there is no better way of farming, no more 
scientific way than to manufacture the raw materials the 
farm produces into a valuable, concentrated form, retain¬ 
ing on the farm most of the manurial elements of the 
products, rendering it a certainty that the farm will in¬ 
crease in productiveness. A. L. CROSBY. 
THOUGHTS ON AN OLD APPLE ORCHARD. 
“ COME, LET US PLANT AN APPLE TREE.” 
The other day the preacher urged his congregation to 
think, so I have concluded to ask the fruit growers to do 
a little thinking. In this section there is so nearly a total 
failure of peaches that it would be better, on account of the 
consequent destruction of insect pests, that the failure had 
been absolute. I can not remember such a complete failure 
oftener than four times in the last 30 years. Pears are few 
in number, with a promise of much better quality than 
last year. The great fruit crop—apples—is very light. It 
is the “off” year, as there was a heavy crop l;ist season. 
The yield will not be more than a tenth of last year’s crop. 
The fruit is very knotty, but there is much less scab than 
last year. The farmers say that it is not worth while to 
plant trees, as the fruit is so poor that it will not sell, or 
else there is none at all. Here is where it will pay to stop 
to think. I cannot tell a better story than by giving a 
partial history of an old orchard we cut down the past 
winter. It contained 105 trees, about 50 of which were 
Smith’s Cider, and the rest mostly Green Pippin. The 
latter had borne light crops of fruit which was neither 
very good nor very bad—that is, it was mostly a little 
rough. About 1869 the trees bore a very heavy crop of 
pretty fair fruit, and they bore more or less yearly up to 
last year; the yield was enough to pay for setting the trees 
out and perhaps they paid better than general farming; 
still they were hardly the right things in the right place. 
This orchard to the best of my knowledge was all set at 
one time aud treated alike. The Cider apples commenced 
to bear as far back as I can remember. They bore more or 
less from 1846 to last year, with the exception of about five 
years. There was a heavy crop in 1862, if my recollections 
are right. The apple crop was a total failure in 1865; but in 
’66 the 50 Cider apple trees produced $1,000 worth of fruit and 
in ’68 $800 worth. The orchard had not been plowed for the 
last 31 years and the ground around some trees set in ’61 
had never been plowed until this spring, aud it can hardly 
be called plowed now; for the top of the soil is so full of 
roots that it could not be plowed or hardly dug with the 
hoe. We set a young orchard in the spring of 1864; the crop on 
12 acres of |Cider apples was worth, in 1874, $2,000, and 
there was a fair crop in ’73. In ’65 tree planters were discour¬ 
aged even worse than they are now about raising apples, low 
prices having been followed by a failure of the crop. 
While this orchard has not been a gold mine, it has yielded 
paying crops in most years since it commenced bearing; 
