i89o 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
it before, even on the great corn fields of Iowa. Now all 
the authorities tell us that this close planting is wrong ; 
that the stalks should be at least one foot apart and 
each produce a good ear. Mr. Francisco will not have an 
ear of corn on his farm. “ Let the West grow the grain, I 
want nothing but stalk.” He gets the stalk, and it is next 
to impossible to conceive of a heavier crop than he pro¬ 
duces. “Such stuff must be watery, unripe and unsuited 
for silage,” say our authorities. “ My cows are crazy for 
it, my milk sells for eight cents per quart and I never 
lose a customer,” says Mr. Francisco. The “ authorities ” 
have undisputed chemical facts to sustain them, while 
Mr. Francisco points to the fact that his cash profit is in¬ 
creasing year by year, while he is buying up worn-out 
farms all about him and making them productive by this 
very system of growing stalk and ignoring grain. The 
corn is cut by hand and hauled to the barn, where it is cut 
into the silo. An ordinary tread horse power is used. The 
turnips are pulled during October and November, or after 
frost sets in, and hauled directly to the barn as wanted, 
and fed to the cows whole, “ tops and all.” The cattle are 
expected to do their own slicing and pulping, as they have 
plenty of spare time on their hands. 
Making the Milk Fat. 
New Jersey can supply the cow and the rough fodder 
needed to produce milk. The United States must furnish 
the grain needed to fatten that milk. No cow will make 
fat milk from lean food. Breed and feed are brothers and 
The Farm Laughs and Grows Fat. 
The soil grows richer and more productive with each 
year. The farm worth $3,000 12 years ago is now worth 
$20,000 for actual farm purposes ! The yield of “ stalks ” is 
three times what it was then. The soil upon which corn 
and turnips are grown Is so rich that no farmer would dare 
to sow grass seed on it without first growing a strong 
crop, like corn, to suck out a part of its strength. Mr. 
FraDcisco has an original way of getting his soil “toned 
down ” for a grass crop. He covers his sod with a coating 
of his rich manure, and then rents the ground for a year 
to some of his truck-growing neighbors. After a good 
crop of sweet corn has struggled with this manure, the 
grass can handle it. 
Bank on Your Cows. 
This is Mr. Francisco’s motto. He early made up his 
mind that he would lend every energy he possessed to the 
production of the best milk. His wagons run through 
town every day, and he could easily sell vegetables and 
eggs, “ But,” he says, “ I pride myself on prompt and 
rapid delivery. If I stopped to sell corn, beans or peas, 
somebody would have to wait for milk. I can’t afford to 
make people wait.” So there is not a single vegetable 
grown on the farm. Even the potatoes used in the family 
are bought. “ Bank on your cows !” The farm is run for 
one single purpose—the production of grass, stalks and 
turnips. The cows show their appreciation of the honors 
shown them. 
561 
These are changed every two or three weeks right 
through the year. Mr. Freeland has charge of the city 
delivery, while Mr. Francisco runs the farm. Every cus¬ 
tomer is urged to visit the dairy, and many of them drive 
out and look at the cows. They are always courteously 
treated and a glass or two of ice-cold Jersey milk makes 
every one of them not only a customer, but a talking 
advertisement. 
Waiting on the Cows. 
The cows are regarded as Jersey ladies. The picture 
shown at Figure 227 gives an idea of a scene witnessed in 
the main feeding alley. The floor of this alley is of cement 
slightly higher in the center than at the stanchions, where 
the cows eat. This floor can be swept or washed off with 
little trouble. The cows stand on a cement floor with a 
gutter behind them. They are well bedded and are never 
permitted to become dirty. Each day the manure is 
wheeled out to the barnyard, shown through the door at the 
end of the feeding alley. The larger cows are fastened in 
stanchions, while the others are fastened by a device orig¬ 
inal with Mr. Francisco. A stout iron rod is placed up¬ 
right in the center of the space occupied by the ordinary 
stanchion. To this is attached, by means of a sliding ring, 
an ordinary neck chain with a swivel like that shown in 
the picture on page 281 of the present volume of The R. N.- 
Y. This enables the cow to put her head on either side of 
the iron rod and to lie down or get up at will. A board at 
the bottom prevents her from stepping over into her food. 
HAY FIELD SCENE AT FAIRFIELD DAIRY. Fig. 226. 
feed is just a trifle smarter than breed. We can fatten milk 
as well as we can fatten sheep or cattle. The grains fed are 
corn meal, bran, malt sprouts, oil-meal and cotton seed 
meal—the last two only in small quantities. Nothing but 
the best of everything will be had. Mr. F. would sooner 
throw damaged grain on the manure pile than feed it to 
the cows. He is a “ close buyer;” that is. he knows exactly 
what he wants, watches the markets carefully, pays cash 
down and refuses to accept inferior grain. He buys at 
wholesale houses in Newark. He uses two tons of grain 
per week for eight months of the year, and one ton per 
week for four months. In addition to this he uses during 
the year 30 tons of “ sprouts ” and large quantities of oil- 
meal and cotton-seed meal. 
“Get Individuality!” 
Branch out for yourself. No matter what you have to 
sell stamp yourself on every ouuce of it that leaves your 
farm. If you sell cattle, hogs, sheep, cheese, honey, wheat, 
potatoes, Lima beans, sweet corn—anything, see that you 
grow it and sell it in a way that will convince the public 
that it is a superior article. Get a price for your skill and 
care. Combine honesty, enterprise and originality. Get 
out of the crowd and stay out. “ Get individuality.” That 
is Mr. Francisco’s favorite bit of advice to young men. It 
is the secret of his own success. He lives in a region where 
“ farmin’ don’t pay.” There are mortgaged and practi¬ 
cally “ abandoned ” farms all about him, on which dairy¬ 
men are losing money year after year, while his profits in¬ 
crease. Get individuality or gtt out of the race. 
Printer’s Ink and Dairy Visits Pay. 
The local papers in Montclair contain advertisements 
like this: 
A Bit of a Contrast. 
We have talked a little about 
Montclair's milk, now we want to 
show you a bit of a contrast. 
Take Newark's milk forln.stanco : 
In the first place, there are two 
kinds of so-called pure milk. In 
which there Is no water ami In 
which there are no brewers' 
graius ; two kinds of such milk we 
say, our milk and the other kind; 
and It is the other kind we are 
going to describe. It Is milked by 
the farmer at six o'clock. Warm 
as It Is It Is driven from three to 
seven miles to a receiving depot, 
put In the dirty cans, which are so 
often se en packed closely on the 
Francisco & 
mule wagons lumbering through 
llioonifleld avenue At this re¬ 
ceiving d*"pot It is cooled; but 
decomposition has already set in 
during the churning It tuts re¬ 
ceived in its half-warm state, on 
the journey from the farmers to 
the receiving depot. From this 
last point It Is taken to Newark 
(after coolingi, there to await the 
motion of the milkman who de¬ 
livers It. 
Oh. the uueleanliuess of the en¬ 
tire process! 
What a contrast between this 
process and ours! 
Freeland. 
Of course, this advertisement is larger in the local paper, 
ut the above is a goo i imitation. This will be followed 
by another like the following : 
Her Cowship. 
It may be a difficult matter to 
feel a cow’s pulse, but we always 
find out in some way whether 
her cowship Is fevered or diseas¬ 
ed, and we treat her for the dis¬ 
order. In the meantime nobody 
gets her milk. 
The doctor makes regular and 
rreijuetit visits to our dairy and 
taki s full care of our large family. 
If Daisy or Sally Ann Is a little 
ailing sue Is put in the sick room 
Francisco & 
where comforts and restoratives 
arc administered. 
Hut, pshaw! why talk about sick 
cows! The doctor calls and 
says: ‘ How’s the family?” and 
we reply ID times out of A): " A' 1 
well, doctor.” And why should¬ 
n’t they be? Surely we take care 
enough of ir ent. 
All this to lead you to infer 
that the milk we sell tiu bottles), 
is the best that can be had. 
Freeland. 
The room shown is really a barn basement, but the barn is 
raised so high that there is abundant space for windows, 
thus providing plenty of air and light, which are considered 
“almost as necessary as hay.” The feed box on wheels— 
shown in the front of the picture—is seven feet long, three 
high and three wide at the bottom. On the day of our 
visit it contained 200 pounds of the best corn-meal, 100 
pounds of malt sprouts and 100 pounds of bran. This was 
mixed 12 hours before with enough water to make the mess 
into a soft mush. Mr. Francisco has tried all sorts of 
methods—feeding dry, mixing with the hay, wetting just 
before feeding, etc.—but has determined that it pays him 
best to wet thoroughly 12 hours before feeding. The feeder 
holds a common scoop shovel. “ About a scoopful ” will 
be put on the floor in front of each cow, the feeder of course 
knowing the animals well enough to regulate the amount 
fed them. A good handful of dry cotton-seed meal is 
afterwards thrown on this wet food. The beauty of this 
stable is that one man can feed and care for 100 cows! 
The post shown at the left near the milk cans, is the corner 
of the silo. Within three feet of these cans, there is a door 
through which the silage can be shoveled into the feeding 
box. Directly opposite is a pump and within six feet of 
that is a chute through which grain of different sorts can 
be turned into the box by simply pulling out a little slide. 
In the wall above, midway between the feed box and the 
door at the end of the alley, is an opening through which 
the hay is thrown directly into the center of the cows. 
Hardly a dozen steps are required to reach every cow in 
