187£.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULT URIST. 
21.5 
arising from one of them might get hold of him 
and shake him three times a "week, with an ex¬ 
tra squeeze on Sunday, until he changes his 
sentiments. For a farmer to write such an arti- 
ticle, at a time when few days pass that we are 
are not called to mourn the loss of some friend 
or neighbor from spotted fever, is monstrous. 
The physicians in the city are fearing a great 
increase of disease. But, if possible, the coun¬ 
try is more filthy and more unhealthy than the 
cities. And it will continue to be so until we 
drain our land. 
It is ridiculous to talk of $185 per acre as the 
cost of draining our swamps. After a good out¬ 
let is secured, most of the swamps that I am 
acquainted with could be drained for $10 per 
acre. The land is quite porous, and a drain, if 
deep enough, is effective to a far greater dis¬ 
tance on each side of it than in our firm, up¬ 
land soils. Mr. Robert J. Swan, of Geneva, 
FT. Y., who has laid sixty-one miles of under¬ 
drains on his farm of 344 acres, found that he 
required double the number of drains on the 
upland that he did on the lowland. Had he 
drained the upland first, the probabilities are 
that the low land would have needed little more 
than a few main drains. As it was, the drain¬ 
ing of the whole farm cost less than $20 per 
acre—and it is probably one of the best drained 
farms in the State. 
The great error in draining low land is in not 
making the open ditches or outlets deep enough. 
I have heard farmers say that they did not want 
a ditch so deep that they could not drive across 
it! They must either give up this notion or be 
content with wet land. Hitherto, a farmer who 
wanted to drain was almost certain to find that 
he could not get sufficient fall on the low land 
without doing more or less ditching on the ad¬ 
joining farms. And he would be pretty sure to 
meet with opposition. But the new drainage 
law in this State puts a new aspect on the mat¬ 
ter. The friends of improved farming have so 
far triumphed. It is now too late for any man 
to oppose the draining of swamps. 
Of course, it is far better and cheaper to do the 
work by mutual consent, and share the expense 
according to the benefit. And one of the best 
effects of the law is that it favors this result. 
When some stupid, stand-still neighbor finds 
that you can not only compel him to let you 
drain through his land, but that he can be made 
to pay a portion of the expense in proportion 
to the benefit the ditch will do him, and that if 
he compels you to ask for the appointment of 
commissioners, the legal expenses will probably 
be more than the actual cost of the work to be 
performed, he will be very likely to withdraw 
his opposition. He knows that if he does not 
you can proceed according to the law and beat 
him. The law is just in principle, and in the 
end public opinion will sustain it. If the pro¬ 
posed ditch injures your neighbor you must 
pay him for the damage; if it benefits him as 
much as it does you, he must pay half the cost. 
Last year I raised three acres of Yellow Globe 
mangel-wurzel. The crop was a capital one, 
averaging at least a thousand bushels per acre. 
Part of the piece was on land that when I took 
the farm was so swampy that the cows mired 
in it nearly the whole summer. I have been 
only able to drain it partially, owing to the 
water setting back from the creek. I could do 
nothing more than cut an open ditch through it 
eighteen or twenty inches deep. I have one 
shallow underdrain in it laid on boards through 
a quicksand, but, with this exception, all the 
drainage it has is from the main ditch and a few 
furrows made with the plow and hoe. On this 
swampy land thus partially, I might say miser¬ 
ably, drained, the mangels were the best in the 
field. You need not tell me that our swamps 
are poor, and will not pay for draining. They 
have been receiving the wash from the uplands 
for centuries, and are the richest parts of the 
farm. In fact, it is from these rich, alluvial 
soils that I look for the means of making ma¬ 
nure for the upland portions of the farm. Innu¬ 
merable instances might be mentioned where 
farms have been brought to a high state of fer¬ 
tility principally from the judicious manage¬ 
ment of the low land. But it is not necessary 
to cite them. The men who prefer to shake 
witli the ague rather than to drain their swamps 
are beyond the reach of argument. 
“ Can footrot in sheep be cured ? ” asks a cor¬ 
respondent. “ I am told that it can not, and 
my experience seems to confirm the opinion.” 
It is certain that not one farmer in ten ever 
does cure an affected flock. And the reason is 
that they do not dress the whole flock, and 
stick to it until every particle of the virus is 
killed. The farmer who thinks he can not kill 
Quack grass would be very apt to think lie 
could not cure footrot—and we might quote 
any number of cases to sustain his opinion. 
This kind of negative evidence proves nothing. 
If you try to get rid of Quack, you must kill 
every root of it, or it will grow and spread, and 
in a few years the land will be as foul as ever. 
And so will footrot. You may nearly cure it, 
but if the virus is not completely destroyed the 
disease will break out again. It is so with scab 
in sheep. The only way to cure it is to dress 
every sheep. After shearing, it is an easy matter 
to cure the scab, as the sheep can be dipped 
every week or ten days until the cure is cer¬ 
tainly effected. Nothing is better for this pur¬ 
pose than a strong solution of carbolic soap. 
It would be well if we all dipped our entire 
flock of sheep and lambs every spring and fall. 
We should then seldom hear anything of the 
scab, and ticks would be abolished. I bought a 
barrel of crude carbolic acid for $15, and use it 
very freely as a disinfectant. A quart of car¬ 
bolic acid and a gallon of petroleum is a capital 
thing to use as a paint or wash on all the wood¬ 
work about pig-pens, hen-house, etc. It is death 
to every species of vermin except rats and mice, 
and I imagine they do not love it. I do not 
myself object to the smell, but I suppose others 
do, as I have heard my men call it “ diabolic ” 
acid—perhaps, however, this was only a mistake 
in chemical nomenclature. 
This spring I washed the trunks and large 
brauches of all my apple, pear, and cherry trees 
with a mixture of soap, carbolic acid, and lye 
from wood ashes. It killed every bit of moss, 
and has greatly improved the appearance of the 
trees. I smear the roosts in the hen-house with 
this and am not troubled with lice. It is a 
capital thing to wash pigs with. And for a dip 
for sheep nothing is equal to it. It kills every 
tick, and if used strong enough and often 
enough it is said to be a certain cure for the 
scab—and I think there can be no sort of doubt 
about it. It is the most penetrating substance 
I know anything about. I have used the crude 
acid alone mixed with water—say a quart of 
acid to six gallons of water—for dipping sheep, 
but prefer the soap. 
For footrot, this crude carbolic acid is the 
cheapest and most effective remedy. But I prize 
it not so much as a cure as a preventive. I have 
no footrot among my sheep, and no symptoms 
of it, but I wash the feet of every sheep and | 
lamb two or three times a year with this acid 
simply as a preventive. Sheep are frequently 
driven along our roads that have footrot, and 
the most careful farmer may get the disease into 
his flock. Where sheep are sent to a common 
resort for washing, I would wash their feet with 
carbolic acid before they were sent, and again 
at shearing time. With a small brush the acid 
is quickly applied. 
I have just finished harrowing my wheat 
with Thomas’s harrow (April 19th). I harrowed 
it first the way of the drills, then crosswise, and 
then after sowing the clover seed we went over 
it again lengthwise. The field is as smooth as 
a barn-floor—and almost as bare. It seems 
pretty hard treatment, but on examination I 
could not find that it pulls up any of the plants. 
On the lighter, sandy portions of the field the 
plants look as though they were smothered. 
But we shall see. The Deacon’s wheat is on 
an adjoining field of the same character of land, 
with only a fence between. Both fields are in 
full view from the public road, and if Iig beats 
me I shall be able to throw the blame on friend 
Thomas and try again. At present the Deacon’s 
looks full as well as mine. But my land is 
pretty well drained, while some portions of the 
Deacon’s is not—and if we should have a wet 
May and June I may come out ahead. So far, 
it has been one of the best seasons for wheat on 
wet land I ever knew. They say, “ Poor far¬ 
mers do well onee in seven years,” and this may 
be the one. The ground is dry, and very few 
of the underdrains arc running. Generally at 
this season they are taxed to their full capacity. 
- m-t ——-i®«——► «■- 
Hay-Making-. 
The importance of the hay crop can not be 
overestimated. Not only are grass and clover 
at the basis of our method of agriculture, but 
the hay as an article of fodder is our great de¬ 
pendence during the feeding season. It is 
therefore important that it should be gathered 
in such a condition that its nutritious properties 
should be retailed in the highest degree. Gene¬ 
rally our hay crop is gathered so late that it has 
lost much of its value. This was clearly shown 
in a late instance, w-hen some American hay 
was sent to the English market, and on being 
sold at Liverpool brought ten dollars per ton 
less than was then current for English-grown 
hay, the loss of value being solely due to its 
over-ripeness. We could not'.have a fairer test, 
for there are no better judges of the value of 
fodder than English feeders, who have learned 
by many years of experience. We may take it 
for granted that hay not in the barn by the end of 
June has lost one fourth of its money value. 
This is the true light in which to view it. 
Clover, then, should be cut before a head has 
turned brown, and timothy, orchard grass, or 
red-top before fairly in blossom. When cut in 
its best condition, still much of its value depends 
on its curing. Its greatest value is preserved 
when dried in the shade. It should therefore 
be cured in the cock, and not allowed to be ex¬ 
posed to the hot sun for a longer time than to 
completely wilt it. If dried more than this, 
the jeayes of clover will become crisp and 
break lip readily, and a mass of dry, hard stalks 
only pe le#, Our practice has been to cut up 
to ten o’clock in tire forenoon, leave until four 
in the afternoon, then gather into cocks before 
the dew lulls, and by six have all raked up and 
cocked, and if there- is probability of rain to 
covet with ceps; As soon as ten o’clock the 
