1883.] 
AMERICAS' AGRICULTURIST. 
403 
Raising Thorough-bred Pigs. 
BY JOSEPH HARRIS. AUTHOR OP “ WALKS AND TALKS ON 
THE FARM,” ETC. 
It may be thought that there is no difference in 
the management of thorough-bred and ordinary 
pigs ; and to a certain extent this is true. But we 
all know that, as ordinarily managed, a very large 
number of young pigs are lost every year. How 
often do we hear farmers say, “ My sow had a 
litter of ten pigs, but the brute killed half of 
them.” In many cases the loss is even greater 
than this. Sometimes sows will eat their own pigs, 
but the greatest loss occurs from the sow, un¬ 
intentionally, lying down on the little pigs and 
crushing them to death. With ordinary pigs the 
loss is sufficiently aggravating, but with thorough¬ 
bred pigs of great value, the loss is peculiarly vex¬ 
atious and discouraging. 
There is no way of preventing a sow from lying 
on her pigs. There is nothing for it but watchful¬ 
ness and care. All mechanical contrivances are 
useless. It is generally recommended to place a 
rail horizontally all around the inside of the pen, 
about a foot distant from the sides and some eight 
or ten inches from the floor of the pen. The object 
of this is to prevent the sow from crushing her 
little pigs against the sides of the pen. It was 
thought that the little ones could run under the 
rail and escape. Nearly all my pens are so con¬ 
structed, but I can see no advantage in the plan. 
We all want to provide a farrowing sow with straw 
or leaves enough to keep her comfortable. Some¬ 
times we use straw that has been run through a 
cutting-box, and sometimes we make use of it the 
full length. I do not know that it makes much 
difference which is used, though I formerly thought 
the chaffed straw was better. One thing I know— 
no matter whether you use long straw, or short 
straw, a sow about to have pigs w.ill push the straw 
under the rail, until it is as firm and compact as 
the sides of the pen would be if no rail was there. 
A little pig, if caught against this compact mass of 
straw, would be as certainly killed as if the sow lay 
against the sides of the pen. You cannot cure a 
sow of this habit. • She knows what she is about. 
She wants her little pigs to get to the teats ; and 
the only way she has of accomplishing this object 
is to prevent them from getting on the wrong side 
of her, by placing her back firmly against the sides 
of the pen. If necessary, she will use every bit of 
straw there is in the pen for filling up the space 
under the rail where she makes her nest. If you 
give her straw enough, the rail is an advantage, 
for the compact straw under the rail makes a 
warmer nest, but it is otherwise useless. 
The great point in the management of farrowing 
sows is to make them as quiet and gentle as pos¬ 
sible. If you are raising thorough-bred pigs, make 
pets of them. The sow, when about to have pigs, 
should be placed in a separate pen for several days 
in advance, so that she shall become quiet and 
accustomed to the pen. Her food should consist 
principally of warm water with a little grease in it, 
with say a quart of bran to a ten-quart pail of 
water. There is nothing better for her, after she 
has had her pigs, than this same warm water and 
grease, gradually made richer by the use of more 
bran and of meal. A few hours before farrowing the 
milk always comes into the teats. It is a good 
plan, especially in the case of thorough-bred sows, 
to accustom them to the presence of some one in 
the pen. There is nothing a sow so well likes as 
to have her teats rubbed or milked. By a little 
gentleness, and by rubbing and milking her teats, 
it is an easy matter to make the sow lie down. 
In the summer-time, I frequently let my sows 
farrow in the field, and almost invariably without 
loss. The sows make their own nests in a fence 
corner, and manage the whole matter quite as well 
as if the best of us were present to direct the 
operation. Do not conclude from this, however, 
that the less you look after your breeding sows the 
better. The weather is warm, the sow is living on 
succulent grass, and everything is favorable. More 
pigs are lost from cold than from all other causes 
combined. It is useless to try to make the pens 
warm by artificial means, for in this case you are 
almost certain to get bad ventilation and to do 
more harm than good. 
Fires and Fire Places. 
Every house should have in the principal, or 
living room, at least, a fireplace, if only for use in 
summer, or in the warm months. There is rarely a 
month in which there is not a long and cold storm, 
or if it is not cold, there is an all-pervading damp¬ 
ness, which requires a fire to remove it. In the 
•Northern States, the present month and the next 
are among the most enjoyable, as to weather, of 
all the twelve. Yet cold storms of several days 
duration are frequent, and if there are not such 
storms, warm, genial days are followed by chilly 
nights, bringing a change so great, that only the 
most robust can endure it, and the foundation of 
serious illness is often laid at this time. At this 
season a fire, especially at night, is often needed for 
both comfort and health, and no house should be 
without a provision for it. While a fire in a stove is 
vastly better than none at all, by all means, where 
possible, have it in an open fireplace. Aside from 
its social effect, the air of cheerfulness which a fire 
on the hearth brings with it, such a fire also brings 
ventilation, a change of air, a removal of damp¬ 
ness and stagnation, such as a close stove does not 
afford. In our climate we rarely have a month, 
even in summer, in which a fire is not at times 
needed. Were the provisions for making it more 
general, we should hear much less of “ malaria.” 
Mal-aria means bad air; good air comes with an 
open fire, as well as brightness and cheerfulness. 
Leaves and their Labor. 
The number of people who are ignorant of the 
simplest processes of vegetation is surprising. 
Men whose whole life-work has been performed 
among growing plants, have only the most remote 
ideas concerning the functions of roots and stems, 
while the leaves in particular seem to have received 
less attention than any of the other organs. Their 
external characteristics, form, size, color, etc., are 
patent to the least observing, and the farmer’s lad, 
who is familiar with every tree or shrub he meets 
in his rambles, depends half unconsciously upon 
them for his distinctions. Leaves have a peculiar 
and special share in the work of vegetation, and 
the manner in which they perform their labor is 
not plainly understood by a great many people. 
The most casual observation shows that every 
leaf is constructed of an intricate network of 
“veins,” as they are commonly called, running 
through a soft pulpy substance. This framework 
Fig. 1. — ckoss section of leaf (much magnified). 
is composed of woody fibres, its purpose being to 
support and distend the softer parts of the leaf. 
Accompanying these fibres through all their 
branchings, and usually running a little beyond 
their extremities into the green tissue, are minute 
tubes or vessels. Follow these back to the mid¬ 
rib of the leaf, and we find that they continue still 
farther, connecting with the circulatory system of 
the stem, which in turn extends down to the roots. 
This line of vessels, therefore, provides a direct 
course for the passage of the fluids absorbed by 
the roots, to the most remote portions of the 
leaves. It arrives there, however, in a crude con¬ 
dition, containing small amounts of mineral mat¬ 
ters—potash, soda, lime, etc.—dissolved in a com¬ 
paratively large amount of water, and wholly unfit 
to meet the uses of the plant. The superfluous 
water must be disposed of, and its contents must 
be changed into new forms by the action of air and 
sunlight. Just here the peculiar structure of the 
green, pulpy portion of the leaf comes in play. The 
upper and under surfaces are covered with a thin 
membrane of colorless cells ; just under this, on 
the upper side of the leaf, are one or two rows of 
cells, standing vertically one above the other, and 
crowded together very closely, but on the under 
Fig.2.— breathing pores of leaf {muchmagnified). 
side they are arranged loosely and irregularly, and 
are often separated by large empty spaces. Figure 
1 is a vertical cross section of a leaf showing this 
structure. The vessels containing the crude and 
dilute sap mingle with these loosely gathered cells 
on the under side, and are exposed to the empty 
spaces just as the blood vessels of an animal are 
exposed to the air sacs of its lungs. It is here that 
the digesting and purifying of the sap takes place. 
These intercellular spaces are connected with the 
air through great numbers of minute openings in 
the membranes already spoken of as covering the 
surfaces of the leaf. Figure 2 gives a surface view 
of four of these pores, surrounded by the peculiar, 
crescent shaped “ guard cells.” A section through 
one of the stomata or breathing pores is shown on 
the lower side of figure 1. 
The water contained in the vessels passes freely 
through their walls, and fills the intercellular 
spaces in the form of vapor, which from here passes 
out through the breathing pores. Now if these 
pores were simple openings, the work of evapora¬ 
tion would go on very unequally; in dry, hot 
weather, it would be greatly increased, but would 
almost cease when the air was laden with moisture, 
while the interests of the plant require that just 
the opposite should happen. Therefore, we find 
these pores working as nicely as the governor of a 
steam engine, opening under the influence of light 
to accomodate the increased activity within the 
plant, partially closing when the air becomes dry 
and hot, and thrown wide open when it is charged 
with moisture. Air with its gases, passes freely in 
and out of the breathing pores, and mingling with 
the contents of the cells and vessels, aids in con¬ 
verting the raw sap into the material for new growth 
or stored up as food as the case may be. But the 
work of the leaves does not end here. One of 
their most important functions, is the collecting of 
carbonic acid gas from the air, and by the action 
of their green coloring matter, to combine it with 
the elements of the sap to form the constituents of 
growth. These compounds containing carbon 
form about fifty per cent of the bulk of the plant, 
so we see that the leaves are really the most active 
portions of the vegetable organism, collecting fully 
one-half the food, and combining it with that fur¬ 
nished by the roots into the complex constituents 
of the perfectly developed plant. The chemical 
processes, which occur in the leaf, are too compli¬ 
cated for discussion here, but its anatomy, the 
utility of all its parts and the harmony with which 
they perform their work, are easily understood, 
and furnish us one of the best examples of the de¬ 
tailed perfection of nature’s work. 
