82 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
February 8 
supplied with quite valuable apparatus that he can¬ 
not afford to throw aside, or sell at a sacrifice ; and in 
the next place, not all camps are conveniently situated 
near an adequate supply of water.” 
“ How much water does it take ?” 
“I found out once, at the cost of a good deal of 
labor, just how much water is required. The sugar 
season of 1895 was the driest one I ever knew, and 
one morning when we had GO barrels of sap on hand, 
we found that our supply pond was empty, and we 
were compelled to haul from a pond situated at quite 
a little distance from our camp, just about the same 
amount of water as we had sap to boil. Hut when I 
get my boiler fitted with a hot-water inspirator, in¬ 
stead of a cold water injector, and use 
the condensed, exhaust steam, that 
difficulty will not be likely to occur 
again. Besides, there will then be a 
great saving in both fuel and water, as 
the boiler will then receive its supply 
at a temperature of 90 or 100 degrees 
instead of 40 or 45 degrees.” 
‘' How much is the saving in fuel by 
using steam?” 
“ 1 know to a certainty that I now use 
only about one-half the amount of fuel 
that I formerly did. My fuel is nearly 
all old rails, tree tops, and refuse wood 
generally. This is all stored away in 
the sugar-house when it is dry in the 
fall. I purchase a small amount of coal 
to mix with it under the boiler, as I find 
that it gives a much steadier fire, and 
adds considerable intensity to the heat. 
Thus you see that there is a great sav¬ 
ing in two important factors in this busi¬ 
ness—time and fuel—and this, of course, 
has a very salutai-y effect on the profits.” 
“ Tell us something about the profits.” 
“The profits in the maple sugar busi¬ 
ness are variable. Prices have been 
much reduced along with all other farm 
products. But taking every thing into 
consideration, I regard the sugar-making season the 
most profitable time of the year on my farm. The 
sugar season of 1895 was the poorest one, in Ohio, 
that has ever been known, 1 think. But a little more 
than half of the usual amount was made. My sales 
for that season foot up to just about $300. From this 
sum must be deducted the pay for two hired men, the 
cost of packages, the cost of fuel—which is little but 
the work, except for a small amount of coal—and the 
depreciation of fixtures. These are not all determ : n- 
ate quantities, but may be roughly 
bunched together and estimated at $80. 
That is about the way I figure out last 
year’s accounts. This, you see, would 
leave me a net profit of $220. Some 
years past, the profits have been much 
greater than that. I do not figure my 
own work into the expense account at 
all. My family and I do not consider 
that we are working at a fixed salary, 
but take the profits, whatever they are, 
as the measure of our services.” 
“ Have you any advice to give those 
who might wish to embark in the busi¬ 
ness of sugar-making by steam ?” 
“Experience is a great teacher, and 
my experience would lead me to say : 
Be sure your water supply is ‘constant 
and adequate; get a boiler a little 
larger than your need seems to require, 
as there must be a large capacity for 
reserve steam ; remember that steam is 
drawn off in this way much faster than 
would be required for an eng-ine that 
corresponded to the size of the boiler. 
It is not necessary to hire an engineer. 
But little expert knowledge is neces¬ 
sary, as there is no engine to look to. 
Understand the injector, or better yet, 
the inspirator, keep the boiler properly 
filled, and watch the indicator. One 
man does all this, and all the syrupingoff, and firing, 
and the multitude of other things, necessary to be 
done at my camp.” 
Fig. 32 shows a view of Mr. Henry’s sugar house, from 
a sketch made on the spot. But little of the interior, 
of course, could be shown. Immediately in front of 
the boiler, a large amount of fuel is stored. The 
boiler, boiling pans and heater, occupy the most of 
the remaining room in the main building. The shed 
attached contains the receiving vats for the sap. An 
elevated driveway was built up by the shed, so that 
the sap could proceed by gravitation alone, its down¬ 
ward, sinuous journey to be transformed by super¬ 
heated energy from cool, clear sap, to the transparent, 
delicious maple syrup. 
Mr. Henry’s syrup and sugar are all taken by pri¬ 
vate customers, some of whom are situated at points as 
wide apart as Boston and San Francisco. By market¬ 
ing his products in this way, his profits are consider¬ 
ably in excess of what they would be if he sold to the 
wholesale buyers, as nearly all of the farmers do. It 
is evident that he has solved the problem of rapid 
evaporation combined with a minimum amount of 
fuel. _ A. B. PHILLIPS. 
PAYING AND NON-PAYING “ TINKERING 
In a recent R. N.-Y. I was accused of advising “ un¬ 
profitable tinkering” on the farm. The question that 
has since been agitating my mind is, What is “ un¬ 
profitable tinkering”? I am acquainted with the 
THE SWILL BARROW ON ITS JOURNEY. Fig. 33. 
owner of a 120-acre farm who says that he despises 
“tinkering,” and so he spends about two-thirds of 
every day in winter, sitting in stores and standing on 
street corners. In summer he plows, plants, culti¬ 
vates and harvests, doing each job with a rush, and 
as soon as it is done, he is off to town to sit on boxes 
and listen to other loafers tell how the Government 
should be run. I have known him not less than 25 
years, and his financial condition has remained 
stationary all that time. His buildings and fences 
UNLOADING THE SWILL BARROW. Fig. 34. 
are in a state of chronic dilapidation, and always 
have been. A few months ago he remarked: “l‘m 
getting pretty blamed tired of farming, and I’m going 
to quit it. Haven’t made anything at it for years, so 
what’s the use of working ?” Ever since I’ve known 
him, he has “ despised tinkering,” and as soon as he 
had finished the farm work on hand, he dropped every¬ 
thing and went to town. 
In another direction, lives a young fellow who is 
farming 80 acres of land, and he seems always to be 
busy. When he goes to town, he transacts his busi¬ 
ness and returns home. He doesn’t move very fast, 
but usually he is moving, and doing something. A 
few days ago he said, “ I don’t much like going to 
town ; it takes up so much time, and I don’t go any 
oftener than necessary. You see, I doh’t drive very 
fast, and while I’m on the road, there's nothing a 
fellow can do but look at what others are doing !” 
When at home, he is almost constantly at work 
when the weather will permit, and more than half 
the time he is merely “ tinkering.” But some way he 
seems to make this tinkering quite remunerative. 
Everything about house, yards and farm looks neat 
and tidy, and he raises good crops. He keeps two 
good cows and makes them pay him well for the food 
and care they get. He raises a number of hogs every 
year, and is quite “lucky” with them. He also raises 
quite a lot of very fine fowls, and they seem to do 
unusually well under his care. He never fails to have 
a good garden, and it is well kept—clear of weeds 
and trash, and the vegetables are first- 
class. He is making some money, add¬ 
ing a little to his surplus every year, 
and he is not tired of farming. In fact, 
he said quite recently that he would not 
swap his job for any that he knew of. 
He is not regarded as a great man, a 
brilliant genius or anything of that sort; 
but rather, as an easy-going, quiet, 
lucky sort of a fellow who seems to 
have a knack of doing things just about 
the right time to make them come out 
in great shape. 
How much of this “luck” and “knack” 
do my critics think is due to tinkering ? 
I can tell them. All of it. Unremuner- 
ative tinkering on the farm is sitting 
with the heels on the stove and spit¬ 
ting tobacco juice into the coal hod ; 
gathering wormy apples and making 
them into cider to ruin the stomach with; 
raising scrub horses, cattle, sheep, hogs 
or fowls ; growing half a crop on land 
that will grow a full one if scientifically 
farmed ; rubbing rust off a plowshare 
with a brick ; hacking out weeds with a 
dull, rusty hoe, and half a hundred 
other things that may be named. 
Paying tinkering is growing a full 
supply of fruit for the family and saving about $100 a 
year. Raising a full supply of first-class vegetables 
and thereby saving another hundred. Feeding and 
watering all stock at the right time, and scientifically. 
Selecting the best for seed and carefully preserving 
it. Cleaning, greasing and housing tools when 
brought in, and doing the thousand and one things 
that need to be done just when they should be done. 
All such tinkering requires time, but I think that it 
is time profitably spent. As I have said before, it is 
not what a man earns, but what he 
saves that makes him rich, and there 
is more to be saved by skillful tinker¬ 
ing on the farm than anywhere else that 
I know of. I have seen men who despise 
tinkering make considerable money 
farming; but some way, it seemed to get 
away from them about as fast as they 
made it. I have seen others who were 
quite expert at looking after the odds 
and ends, and who never made any 
great lump sums ; but some way they 
held on to what they did make, or at 
least, it staid with them, and when old 
age came on, they were in very comfort¬ 
able circumstances, which is a great 
thing. FRED GRUNDY. 
A HANDI SWILL BARROW. 
We have had a good deal to say about 
the backyard and the back door. Oft- 
times the biggest nuisance about the 
back door is the swill barrel. It is a 
breeder of disease and slovenliness. 
Why ? Chiefly because it is stationary 
and hard to get away. If it were on 
wheels or fixed so that it might be easily 
moved, it never would get into such a 
state. It doesn’t look so bad at this sea¬ 
son, perhaps, but when summer comes, 
it will be worse than ever. Now, if ever, is the time 
to put wheels on the swill barrel. How ? Mr. F. Q. 
White of Westchester County, N. Y., tells how he did 
it. If you can beat his way, we will give you the 
space to do it in : 
Last winter, readers of The R. N.-Y. discussed the 
best method of handling the skim-milk and waste 
from the kitchen and dairy. Being much interested 
in the subject, and having solved the problem on our 
own farm, I wrote The R. N.-Y. that I would send a 
description of the swill barrow we used on “ Fern- 
wood Farm.” Figs. 33 and 34 give a very fair idea of 
what it is, and how to make it. . All that is needed is 
an old wheelbarrow wheel, two sticks for handles, a 
mackerel barrel, and four short strips for braces used 
as shown in the«picture. Fig. 33 shows a man just 
