Vol. LXVIII No. 4005. 
NEW YORK, JULY 31, 1909. 
WEEKI.Y, $1.00 PER YEAR. 
THE ONE HORSE JERSEY FARMER TALKS. 
MR. ALFRED JOHNSON’S STORY. 
The Man Who Made Good. 
Former articles in The R. N.-Y. about my success 
at farming have created considerable discussion. No 
doubt some persons consider it somewhat exagger¬ 
ated; as I have always kept an accurate account of 
my receipts and disbursements, I can verify all my 
statements. About 16 to 20 years ago The R. N.-Y. 
contained a number of articles about my farm, the 
editors visiting my place several times and looking 
over the books. I could not realize that my success 
was out of the ordinary, and I still think others can 
do just as well or better, provided they are not 
afraid of work, and can use proper judgment. 
I was a city man, working in Newark, 
N. J., at the jewelry business for 35 years. 
The sedentary confinement in the factory 
over gas soldering, caused ill-health and 
made me desirous of getting away from it. 
I always had a great liking for the coun¬ 
try, inspired by frequent visits to my wife’s 
folks, who had farms in the vicinity of 
where I purchased my place of nearly 20 
acres. It was then the only available small 
farm to be had thereabouts. The old one- 
and-one-half story house was badly out of 
repair, the second floor all an open garret. 
The money I expended on repairs 
about $500 would have built a much better 
house. A barrack boarded up for a barn 
was the only other building; fencing all 
gone. The land being lower than the three 
surrounding farms made it so low and wet 
that it was not farmed at all, except about 
two or three acres. The remainder was 
covered with stumps, running briers, five- 
finger and some wild grass. The owner 
had other land to work, and the neighbor¬ 
ing farmers told others they felt sorry 
for me, coming out of the city and know¬ 
ing but little of farming, as I would surely 
fail. I was told to get it in grass, as I 
could not raise any Winter grain; I might 
pick out two or three acres for potatoes 
and a few vegetables. I should get other 
land to work. All that was enough to 
discourage any man. The first two years 
the Spring was wet, and I could not plow 
until June, too late for corn, so I put it 
in buckwheat, of which I had a fair crop. 
The land being flat and full of wet holes, 
I dug an open ditch lengthwise and across 
the middle, then plowed with the open fur¬ 
row leading to the ditch. I always plowed 
one way, thereby raising the center of the 
land considerably higher. By that means 
I got rid of the wet holes. 
I then bought city manure by the car and canal 
boat load. Keeping about 300 hens, I had considerable 
hen manure, which I mixed with potash, dissolved 
bone black and plaster. By the time I got the nec¬ 
essary buildings, wagons, farm tools, horses and cows, 
I was $3,000 in debt. I continued to work at my 
trade several years, going to town Monday morning 
and returning Saturday evening, hiring a man to 
work the place. I did not make much working that 
way by proxy; getting tired of being away from 
my family the whole week, I determined to give up 
my trade and devote my entire attention to the farm, 
even if I could no more than make a living. So on 
April 1, 1882, when I was 49 years old, I devoted my 
entire attention to the farm. I was then $2,000 in 
debt. At that age and with such a debt on my 
hands, I felt that I was undertaking a great respon¬ 
sibility. I thought if I could only work the debt off 
my hands I would be contented with only making a 
comfortable living. I actually did not expect the 
success I attained. I only relate these incidents in 
order to prove to people living in the city who wish 
to go into the country the possibilities they can attain 
by using considerable energy and good judgment. 
Giving up my trade and starting in, I expended 
every year for manure $200 to $300; one year over 
$-100, and I made considerable on the farm. I went 
into raising strawberries, from three to four acres; 
potatoes, cabbage, chickens and eggs, hay, pears and 
other fruit. My land being low, I did not suffer 
much with drought. It is a stiff sandy loam, fine 
for strawberries and potatoes. I could easily raise 
from 200 to 300 bushels of potatoes per acre; Timothy 
hay, 2Vj to three tons per acre. My best strawberry 
was the Great American (now out of date). I 
raised it for a number of years; it was perfect in 
every way. One year it averaged wholesale 15 % 
cents a quart. That year my sales were over $4,000, 
$2,600 for strawberries. My sales averaged for 10 
years over $3,000 per year, netting me an average 
of $1,000 per year. The chicken and egg business 
was one of the best paying crops on the farm. I 
kept about 300 hens; from them my gross sales were 
from eggs and chickens $600 to $900 per year. One 
year, from about 350 hens, I sold eggs, $822.12; chick¬ 
ens, $169.81; total, $991.93. Cost of feed, $439; net 
profit, $552.93; eggs averaged per dozen 26 1 4 cents. 
I used and set 2908 eggs, which were not counted; if 
sold would realize $60 more. Almost all the eggs 
and chickens were sold to grocerymen. I then and 
for years bought all my chicken feed; raised no corn, 
as my land paid better for other crops, being so highly 
enriched. 
By 1890 I had wiped out my entire debt; since then 
I have invested several thousand dollars on bond and 
mortgage and lots in New York City, and expended 
over $3000 in traveling. In the past nine years I 
have been to nearly every country in Europe now in 
three trips; to Jerusalem and Egypt on Clark’s tours 
to the Orient, to Cuba and Mexico and three times 
to California, and nearly every State in the Union. 
I lost my wife in 1899. Having no children to help, 
I had to hire a man and housekeeper the year around, 
costing over $350 per year besides board. Most of 
my produce was sold wholesale to grocerymen, but 
since my wife’s death I have quit hustling so much, 
so what little I did raise I mostly sold to 
private families in Paterson by the peach 
basket or bushel. I seeded my land down 
mostly to grass. Being myself now all 
alone, two years ago I rented my farm to 
a young couple. Not wanting to leave the 
place, I agreed to board with the family. 
They were not farmers, having kept a 
grocery store in Brooklyn. By my living 
with them they have my advice and ex¬ 
perience. I don’t want them to make mis¬ 
takes such as I had made, and which all 
new beginners must expect. I occupy 
my time while at home reading and doing 
light work. I must be out of doors when 
the weather permits, and be doing some¬ 
thing. I don’t pretend to farm any more, 
not but what I am able to, but having more 
than sufficient, I don’t want to overtax my 
energy. I am now 76 years old. Mr. 
Noble, of New Hampshire, page 531, seems 
to criticize my statements, and thinks that 
in order to accomplish what I did I must 
have worked myself, my man and horse 
day and night. I never asked a man to 
work over 10 hours a day; when the fac¬ 
tory whistle blew around here morning, 
noon and night, they went to work and 
quit. I have had men remain with me from 
six to 14 years. It is not the man so much 
who pitches in from daylight to dark and 
overworks himself and men who succeeds 
generally. Those who work the hardest with 
their hands alone do not succeed so well. 
I now know several farmers who work 
every day from early morning to late at 
night, don’t take a day off to go any¬ 
where, and they no more than make a 
living. It is mostly by using brains and 
good judgment, knowing how best to sell 
produce, seeking and taking advantage of 
the best market. Instead of being used 
up at my age by hard work, I would like 
to tackle Mr. Noble (who no doubt is a much younger 
man, for a several miles’ walk every day or a good 
day’s work. I never enjoyed better health in my 
life than now, since being' on a farm. In all my 
travels I walk every day from morning to night 
around the city or out in the country. I expect to 
continue traveling now as long as I am able; I want 
to see the whole world. I go alone and am very 
fond of it, and suffer no inconvenience. T expect 
to go to the Seattle Exposition this Summer and 
to Alaska, and Clark’s trip around the world next 
year. I must keep moving; my life has always been 
active. I cannot for the life of me sit around and 
idle my time away doing nothing. 
So much about myself; now I want to give my 
opinion and advice to many city persons who want 
to go to the country to live and making a living. 
ALFRED JOHNSON—THE “ONE-HORSE JERSEY FARMER.” 
