What I know of farming:

III. Though the ordinary Market Vegetables may be grown on large farms, the fact that they seldom are is significant. Cabbages, Peas, Poled Beans, Tomatoes, and even Potatoes, are mainly grown on small farms, as they always have been. There are sections wherein no cash market for Vegetables exists or can be relied on; and here they will continue to be grown to the extent only of the growers' respective needs; but wherever the prevalence of manufactures or the neighborhood of a great city gives reasonable assurance of a market, they are grown at a profit per acre which is rarely realized from a Grain-crop. No less than $100 per acre is often, if not generally, achieved by the growers of Cabbage around this city; and this not from rich, deep garden-mold, but from fair farming land, underdrained, subsoiled, and liberally manured.

The careless, slipshod farmer may do better – that is, he will not fail so signally – in Grain cultivation; but there are few more decided or brilliant successes than have been achieved within the last few years within sight of this City, and wholly in the tillage of small farms.

I trust I have here said enough to show that there is a legitimate and promising field for agricultural enterprise and effort, other than that which contemplates the acquisition and rule of a township, and that, while farming on a large area is to many attractive and inspiring, there are scope and incitement also for tillage on a humbler scale – for tillage that permits no weed to ripen seed, and no nest of caterpillars to flourish a month undisturbed – for tillage that achieves large crops and profits from small areas, and rejoices in that neatness and perfection of culture attainable only in the management of small farms.

L.

EXCHANGE AND DISTRIBUTION

The machinery whereby the farmer of our day converts into cash or other values that portion of his products which is not consumed in his house or on his farm, seems to me lamentably imperfect. Let me illustrate my meaning:

After three all but fruitless years, we have this year a bountiful Apple-crop, in this State and (I believe) throughout the North. Our old orchards being still, for the most part, preserved and in bearing condition, while a good many young ones, planted ten to twenty years ago, begin to fruit considerably, we had, throughout the three Fall months, a superabundance of this homely, wholesome, palatable fruit. It should have been cheap for the great body of our mechanics and laborers to provide their families with all the ripe, good Apples that they could consume without injuring themselves by gluttony. Good Apples should have been constantly displayed on every workingman's table, to be eaten raw as a dessert, or baked and eaten with bread and milk for breakfast or supper. Each provident housewife should now have her tub of applesauce, her barrel of dried apples, or both, for Winter use; while a dozen bushels of good keepers should be stored in every cellar, to be drawn upon from day to day during the next four or five months. In short, Apples should have been and be, from last August to next May, as common as bread and potatoes, and should have been and be as freely eaten in every household and by every fireside.

How nearly have we realized this?

I will not guess how many millions of bushels have rotted under the trees that bore them, been eaten by animals to little or no profit, or turned into cider that did not sell for so much as it cost, counting the Apples of no value. Living immediately on a railroad that rims into this City, wherefrom my place is 35 miles distant, I should be able to do better with Apples than most growers; and yet I judge that half my Apples were of no use to me. Many of them sold in this City for $1 per barrel, including the cask, which cost me 40 cents; and, when you have added the cost of transportation, you can guess that I had no surplus, after paying men $1.50 per day for picking and barreling them. I sold all I could to vinegar-makers at fifty cents per bushel for cider-apples – the casks being returned. But they could not take all I wished to sell them, there being so many sellers pressing to get rid of their windfalls before they rotted on their hands that even this market was glutted. That it was much worse for the farmer a dozen miles from a railroad and a hundred from the nearest city, none can doubt. I have heard that, in parts of Connecticut, cider was sold for fifty cents per barrel to whoever would furnish casks, and that their size was hardly considered. Manifestly, this left nothing for the apples.

If Apples could have been daily supplied to our poorer citizens in such quantities as they could conveniently take, at from fifty to seventy-five cents per bushel, according to quality and comeliness, I am confident that this City and its suburbs would have taken Two or Three Millions of bushels more than they have done; and the same is true of other cities. But the poor rarely buy a barrel of Apples at once; and they have been required to pay as much for half a peck as I could get for a bushel just like them. In other words: the hucksters and middlemen set so high a price on their respective services in dividing up a barrel of Apples and conveying them from the rural producer to the urban consumer that a large portion of the farmer's apples must rot on his hands or be sold by him for less than the cost of harvesting, while the poor of the cities find them too dear to be freely eaten.

Nor are Apples singular in this respect. I would like to grow a thousand bushels of English (round) and French or Swede Turnips per annum if I could be sure of getting $1 per barrel for them delivered at the railroad. If the poor of this City could buy such Turnips throughout their season by the half peck at the rate of $2 per barrel, I believe they would buy and eat many more than they do. But they are usually asked twenty-five cents per half peck, which is at the rate of $5 per barrel; and at this rate they hold them too dear for every-day use. So the Turnips are not grown, or the cattle are invited to clear them off before they rot and become worthless and nuisance.

Quite often, a green youth undertakes to get rich by farming near some great city. He has heard and believes that Cabbages bring from $5 to $8 and even $10 per hundred, Squashes from $10 to $25 per hundred, Watermelons from $20 to $50, and so on. He has made his calculations on this basis, and sanguinely expects to make money rapidly. But his products, in the first place, fall short of his estimates; they are not ready for market so soon as he expected they would be; and, when at length they are ready, every one else seems to have rushed in ahead of him. The market is glutted; no one seems to want his "truck" at any figure; he sells it for a song, and quits farming disgusted and bankrupt. May be, his stuff would have sold much better next week or the week after; but he could not afford to bring it to market and take it back day after day, on the chance that the demand for it would improve by-and-by. I judge that more young men have on this account turned their backs on farming, after a brief trial, than on any other. They might have borne up against the shortness of their crops, hoping for better luck next time; but the necessity for selling them for a price that would not have reimbursed their cost, had they been ever so luxuriant, utterly disheartens and alienates them.

I preach no crusade against hucksters and middlemen. I hold them, in the actual state of things, benefactors to both producers and consumers. In so far as they deal honestly and meet promptly their obligations, they deserve commendation rather than reproach. What I urge is, that more economical and efficient machinery of exchange and distribution ought to be devised and set at work – machinery that would do all that is required at a moderate, reasonable cost.

I would like to see one of our solvent, well-managed Railroads advertise that it would henceforth buy at any of its stations all the farmers' produce that might be offered, and pay the highest prices that the state of the markets would justify. Let its agents purchase whatever came along – a basket of eggs, a coop of chickens, a barrel of apples, a sack of beans, a pail of currants – anything that could be sold in the city to which it runs, and which would conduce to human sustenance or comfort. Its object should be Freight – the rapid and vast increase of its transportations, not extra profit on the articles transported. But let its agents be ready to buy at fair prices whatever was offered, paying cash down, and pushing everything purchased directly into market, so as to have the money back to buy more with directly. The Railroad Company, thus owning nearly everything edible it brought into market, would buy and sell at uniform prices, and not bid against itself, as a crowd of hucksters and middlemen will often do. I am confident that a Railroad that would inaugurate this system on a right basis, saying to every farmer living near it, "Grow whatever your soil is best adapted to, and bring it to our station: there, you shall have cash down for it, at the highest price we can afford to give," would rapidly double and quadruple its freights, and would thus build up a business which has no parallel under the present system.

It is urged, in opposition to this proposal, that a Railroad so managed would monopolize markets, and deal on its own terms with the producer and consumer. If there were but one railroad entering a great city, and no other mode of reaching it, this objection would be plausible, but not in the actual case. Whoever chose would be at liberty to start an opposition, and to use the railroad or dispense with it as he found advisable.

LI.

WINTER WORK

THE dearth of employment in Winter for farm laborers is a great and growing evil. Thousands, being dismissed from work on the farms in November, drift away to some city, under a vague, mistaken impression that there must be work at some rate where so much is being done and so many require service, and squander their means and damage their morals in fruitless quest of what is not there to be had. When Spring at length arrives, they sneak back to the rural districts, ragged, penniless, debauched, often diseased, and every way deteriorated, by their Winter plunge. For their sakes not only, but for the sakes also of those who will employ and those who must work with them hereafter, this drifting to the cities should be stopped.

In its present magnitude, it is a very modern evil. Far within my recollection, there was timber to cut and haul to the saw-mill, wood to cut, draw, and prepare for the year's fuel, with forest-land to be cleared and fitted for future cultivation, even in New-England. Those who chose to work with ax or team were seldom idle in Winter. Now, there is little timber to cut, little land to clear, and coal is rapidly supplanting wood as fuel. So a larger and larger number of farm laborers is annually turned off when the ground freezes to live as they may for the next three or four months.

I recognize the right of the farmer, who has given twelve or more hours per day to the tillage of his acres and the saving of his crops throughout the genial months, to take the world more easily in Winter. He should now have leisure to return visits, to post and balance his books, and to improve his mind by study and reflection. Having worked hard when he must, he ought to rest and recuperate when he can. But he gravely errs who supposes that, the ground being frozen, there is no longer work to be done on the farm until the ground is fit to plow again. On the contrary, he who realizes that the farmer is a manufacturer of food and fibrous substances from raw materials of far inferior value must see that, so soon as one harvest has been secured, the cultivator should devote his attention to the collection and utilization of the elements wherefrom a larger crop may be obtained from the same acres next season.

And first as to Muck. No one who has not valued and sought it is likely to know how generally abundant and accessible this material is. I have found it in inexhaustible supply on the land of a pretty good cultivator who, after working a fair farm ten years, sold it because (as he supposed) it was destitute of this basis of extensive fertilization. "Seek, and ye shall find," implies that those who do not seek will rarely find; and such is the fact. Where rock abounds, Muck is rarely wanting. It covers many thousand acres of Jersey sands, where rock is unknown; but show me a region ridged or ribbed with rock, and I shall confidently expect to find Muck on it, though none has been known or supposed to exist there. And he who either has or can buy a bed of Muck within half a mile of his barn, his sty, his hen-house, may dig and draw from it all Winter with a moral certainty that it will generously reward his outlay. Begin as soon after haying as you can spare the time, and cut an outlet so deep that you may thereafter work dryshod; thenceforth, dig and pile on the nearest accessible spot of dry ground, to be drawn away to the barn-yard and out-houses as opportunity presents itself. But, even though you have done nothing till the ground freezes, do not say it is now too late, but set to work. You can often team in Winter where you could not at any other season; and, in digging Muck from a swamp or bog well frozen over, you are not apt to be troubled with water. Draw all you can; but dig much more; for no money at lawful interest pays so well as Muck left to dry and cure for months before you draw it. I think I do not over-estimate the average value of a cubic yard of Muck, well cured and mixed with warmer fertilizers before application to the soil, at one dollar; and I think there are few farmers in the Old Thirteen States who cannot obtain it for less than that.

Where Muck is not to be had, I believe the tiller of a sandy or gravelly farm who can get access to a bed or bank of clay may profitably dig and draw this, to be used as he would use Muck if he had it, and even for direct application to the soil. I do not think this method the most advisable; yet I feel sure that clay spread over a sandy or gravelly field that has been laid down to grass is worth fifty cents per cubic yard wherever Hay is worth $12 per tun; but I would wish to apply it not later than December.

He who has fit places of deposit should draw all his Lime, Plaster, and other commercial fertilizers, in Winter, so as to be ready for use when required. Mix your Lime while fresh from the kiln with Muck, at the rate of a bushel of the former to a cubic yard of the latter, and the Muck will be ready for use far sooner than it otherwise would be. Be careful not to mix Lime with animal manures in any case, since it expels Ammonia, whereas the sulphur of Plaster combines with that volatile element and fixes it. There are some farmers who do, but twenty times as many who do not, use Plaster enough about their stables and pig-pens. They ought to realize that a bad smell implies a waste of Ammonia, which a farmer, unless very rich, can hardly afford.

Fences should all be scrutinized as Winter goes off, and put into thorough condition for next season's service.

Fruit-trees should be relieved of all dead or dying branches, all suckers, and cut back where towering to high, or spreading too wide. It may be better for the trees to do all pruning in May or June; but the farmer who defers it to that season is very likely to be hurried into postponing it to another year – and another.

There is scarcely a forest of second or later growth which would not pay for thinning and trimming, if well done. That which is out may be turned to good account as bean-poles, pea-brush, Summer fuel, etc., while that which is left will grow faster, taller, and more shapely, to reward you doubly for your pains.

– These are but suggestions. Any farmer can add to or improve upon them if he will give an hour's thought to the subject. The best laborers can be hired for a full year at a price not very much exceeding that which will secure their services for eight or nine months. In the interest alike of good crops and good morals, I urge every one who can to resolve that he will henceforth hire by the year, or in some way manage to employ his laborers in Winter as well as in Summer.

LII.

SUMMING UP

In the foregoing essays, I have set forth, as clearly as I could, the facts within my knowledge which seem calculated to cast light upon the farmer's vocation, and the principles or rules of action which they have suggested to my mind. I have been careful not to throw any false, delusive halo over this indispensable calling, and by no means to induce the belief that the farmer's lot is necessarily and uniformly a happy one. I know that his is not the royal road to rapid acquisition, and that few men are likely to amass great wealth by quietly tilling the soil. I know, moreover, that what passes for farming among us is not so noble, so intellectual, so attractive, a pursuit as it might and should be – that most farmers might farm better and live to better purpose than they do. Of all the false teaching, I most condemn that which flatters farmers as though they were demigods and their calling the grandest and the happiest ever followed by mortals, when the hearer, unless very green, must feel that the speaker doesn't believe one word of all be utters; for, if he did, he would be farming, instead of living by some profession, and talking as though his auditors did not know wheat from chaff. I regard the Agriculture of this country as very far below the standard which, it should ere this have reached: I hold that the great mass of our cultivators might and should farm better than they do, and that better farming would render their sons better citizens and better men. If a single line of this little work should seem calculated to cajole its readers into self-complacency rather than instruct them, I beg them to believe that their impression wrongs my purpose.

I am fully aware that others have treated my theme with fuller knowledge and far greater ability than I brought to its discussion. "Then why not leave them the field?" Simply because, when all have written who can elucidate my theme, at least three-fourths of those who ought to study and ponder it will not have read any treatise whatever upon Agriculture – will hardly have yet regarded it as a theme whereon books should be written and read. And, since there may be some who will read this treatise for its writer's sake – will read it when they could not be persuaded to do like honor to a more elaborate and erudite work – I have written in the hope of arousing in some breasts a spirit of inquiry with regard to Agriculture as an art based on Science – a spirit which, having been awakened, will not fall again into torpor, but which will lead on to the perusal and study of profounder and better books.

In the foregoing essays, I have sought to establish the following propositions:

1. That good farming is and must ever be a paying business, subject, like all others, to mischances and pull-backs, and to the general law that the struggle up from nothing to something is ever an arduous and almost always a slow process. In the few instances where wealth and distinction have been swiftly won, they have rarely proved abiding. There are pursuits wherein success is more envied and dazzling than in Agriculture; but there is none wherein efficiency and frugality are more certain to secure comfort and competence.

2. Though the poor man must often go slowly, where wealth may attain perfection at a bound, and though he may sometimes seem compelled to till fields not half so amply fertilized as they should be, it is nevertheless inflexibly true that bounteous crops are grown at a profit, while half and quarter crops are produced at a loss. A rich man may afford to grow poor crops, because he can afford to lose by his year's farming, while the poor man cannot. He ought, therefore, to till no more acres than he can bring into good condition – to sow no seed, plow no field, where he is not justified in expecting a good crop. Better five acres amply fertilized and thoroughly tilled than twenty acres which can at best make but a meager return, and which a dry or a wet season must doom to partial if not absolute failure.

3. In choosing a location, the farmer should resolve to choose once for all. Roaming from State to State, from section to section, is a sad and far too common mistake. Not merely is it true that "The rolling stone gathers no moss," but the farmer who wanders from place to place never acquires that intimate knowledge of soil and climate which is essential to excellence in his vocation. He cannot read the clouds and learn when to expect rain, when he may look for days of sunshine, as he could if he had lived twenty years on the same place. Choose your home in the East, the South, the Center, the West, if you will (and each section has its peculiar advantages); but choose once for all, and, having chosen, regard that choice as final.

4. Our young men are apt to plunge into responsibilities too hastily. They buy farms while they lack at once experience and means, incur losses and debts by consequent miscalculations, and drag through life a weary load, which sours them against their pursuit, when the fault is entirely their own. No youth should undertake to manage a farm until after several years of training for that task under the eye of a capable master of the art of tilling the soil. If he has enjoyed the requisite advantages on his father's homestead, he may possibly be qualified to manage a farm at twenty-one; but there are few who might not profitably wait and learn, in the pay of some successful cultivator, for several years longer; while I cannot recall an instance of a youth rushing out of school or a city counting-house to show old farmers how their work ought to be done, that did not result in disaster. It is very well to know what Science teaches with regard to farming; but no man was ever a thoroughly good farmer who had not spent some years in actual contact with the soil.

5. While every one says of his neighbor, "He farms too much land," the greed of acquisition does not seem at all chastened. Men stagger under loads of debt to-day, who might relieve themselves by selling off so much of their land as they cannot profitably use; but every one seems intent on holding all he can, as if in expectation of a great advance in its market value. And yet you can buy farms in every old State in the Union as cheaply per acre as they could have been bought in like condition sixty years ago; and I doubt their selling higher sixty years hence than they do now. No doubt, there are lands, in the vicinage of growing cities or villages, that have greatly advanced in value; but these are exceptions: and I counsel every young farmer, every poor farmer, to buy no more land than he can cultivate thoroughly, save such as he needs for timber. Never fear that there will not be more land for sale when you shall have the money wherewith to buy it; but shun debt as you would the plague, and prefer forty acres all your own to a square mile heavily mortgaged. I never lifted a mill-stone; but I have undertaken to carry debts, and they are fearfully heavy.

6. I know that most American farms east of the Roanoke and the Wabash have too many fields and fences, and that the too prevalent custom of allowing cattle to prowl over meadow, tillage and forest, from September to May, picking up a precarious and inadequate subsistence by browsing and foraging at large, is slovenly, unthrifty, and hardly consistent with the requirements of good neighborhood. It is at best a miseducation of your cattle into lawless habits. I do not know just where and when all pasturing becomes wasteful and improvident; but I do know that pasturing fosters thistles, briers, and every noxious weed, and so is inconsistent with cleanly and thorough tillage. I know that the same acres will feed far more stock, and keep them in better condition, if their food be cut and fed to them, than if they are sent out to gather it for themselves. I know that the cost of cutting their grass and other fodder with modern machinery need not greatly exceed that of driving them to remote pastures in the morning and hunting them up at nightfall. I know that penning them ten hours of each twenty-four in a filthy yard, where they have neither food nor drink, is unwise; and I feel confident that it is already high time, wherever good grass-land is worth $100 per acre, to limit pasturage to one small field, as near the center of the farm as may be, wherein shade and good water abound, into which green rye, clover, timothy, oats, sowed corn, stalks, etc., etc., may successively be thrown from every side, and where shelter from a cold, driving storm, is provided; and that, if cows could be milked here and left through night as well as day, it would be found good economy.