ay

New York
State Cullege of Agriculture

At Gornell University
Sthara, N. Y.

 
  

 

 

Library
Cornell University Library

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FRONTISPIECE.
OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES

AND

THE MONEY WE MADE BY IT.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.
1859.
LONDON: a
Printed by G. Barcuay, Castle St. Leicester Sq.

@ a s i i ie he
CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

I.

II.

TIT.

Iv.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XIt.

XUI.

XIV.

xv.

WHERE SHALL WE LIVE? .
OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY. .
OUR SECOND cow.

HOW TO MAKE BUTTER :
WHAT WE MADE BY OUR COWS
OUR PIGS . ; ‘ :
OUR POULTRY .  ..
OUR LOSSES . .
OUR PIGEONS 3 is .
HOW WE CURED OUR HAMS .
OURBREAD .  ..
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN :
THE MONEY WE MADE :
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS.

CONCLUSION . a

PAGE

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111
OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

CHAPTER I.

WHERE SHALL WE LIVE?

‘““WueEreE shall we live?” that was a ques-
tion asked by the sister of the writer, when
it became necessary to leave London, and
break up a once happy home rendered
desolate by sudden bereavement.

‘“‘ Ah! where indeed ?” was the answer.
‘““'Where can we hope to find a house
which will be suitable for ourselves, six
children, and a small income ?”

“Oh,” answered H., “there can be no
difficulty about that. Send for the ‘ Times,’
and we shall find dozens of places that will
do for us.” So that mighty organ of in-
formation was procured, and its columns
eagerly searched.

B
2 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

“But,” said I, “ what sort of place do
we really mean to take?”

“That,” replied H., “is soon settled.
We must have a good-sized dining-room,
small drawing-room, and a breakfast-room,
which may be converted into a school-
room. It must have a nursery and five
good bed-chambers, a chaise-house, and
stable for the pony and carriage ; a large
garden, and three or four acres of land,
for we must keep a cow. It must not be
more than eight miles from ‘town,’ or two
from a station ; it must be in a good neigh-
bourhood, and it must ——”

“Stop! stop!” cried 1; “how much
do you intend to give a-year for all these
conveniences ?”

“How much ? Why, I should say, we
ought not to give more than 50/.”

“We ought not,” said I gravely, “ but
I greatly fear we shall for that amount
have to put up with a far inferior home to
the one you contemplate. But come, let
us answer a few of these advertisements ;
some of them depict the very place you
wish for.”

So after selecting those which, when
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE? 3

they had described in bright colours the
houses to be let, added, ‘Terms very
moderate,” we “ presented compliments”
to Messrs. A., B., C., D., and in due time
received cards to view the “ desirable coun-
try residences” we had written about. But
our hopes of becoming the fortunate occu-
pants of any one of those charming abodes
were soon dashed to the ground ; for, with
the cards, came the terms; and we found
that a “very moderate rental” meant from
120/. to 150/. per annum. We looked at
each other rather ruefully ; and the un-
generous remark of “I told you so,” rose
to my lips. However I did not give it ut-
terance, but substituted the words, “‘ Never
mind, let us send for another ‘Times,’ and
only answer those advertisements which
state plainly the rent required.” This time
we enlarged our ideas on the subjects of
rent and distance, and resolved, that if
that beautiful place near Esher would suit
us, we would not mind giving 60/. a-year
for it.

In a few days arrived answers to our
last inquiries. We fixed on the one which
appeared the most eligible, but were alittle
4 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

dismayed to find that “near Esher” meant
six miles from the station.

“‘Never mind,” said H. resolutely, “ the
pony can take us to it in fine weather ;
and in winter we must not want to go to
London.”

We started the next morning by rail,
and found the “ Cottage” almost as pretty
as it had appeared on paper. But, alas!
it had been let the day previous to our
arrival, and we had to return to town minus
twenty -two shillings for our expenses.

The next day, nothing daunted— indeed
rather encouraged by finding the house
we had seen really equal to our expecta-
tions—we set off to view another “ villa,”
which, from the particulars we had received
from the agent, appeared quite as attractive.
This time we found the place tenantless ;
and as far as we were concerned, it would
certainly remain so. It had been repre-
sented as a “highly desirable country
residence, and quite ready for the re-
ception of a family of respectability.” It
was dignified with the appellation of “ Mid-
dlesex Hall,” and we were rather sur-
prised when we found that this high-
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE? 5

sounding name signified a mean-looking
place close to the road; and when the
door was opened for our admission, that we
stepped at once from the small front court
into the drawing-room, from which a door
opened into a stone kitchen. The rest of
the accommodation corresponded with this
primitive mode of entrance ; the whole
place was in what is commonly called a
“‘tumble-down” condition: there was cer-
tainly plenty of garden, and two large mea-
dows, but, like the rest of the place, they
were sadly out of order. When we said it
was not at all the house we had expected
to find from reading the advertisement, we
were asked what sort of house we expected
to get for 63/. with five acres of land?
Now that was a question we could not have
answered had we not seen the pretty cot-
tage with nearly as much ground at Esher ;
however, we did not give the owner the
benefit of our experience, but merely said
that the house would not suit us, and drove
back four miles to the station, rather out of
spirits with the result of our day’s work.

For more than a fortnight did we daily
set forth on this voyage of discovery. One
day we started with a card to view “a
6 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

delightful Cottage Ornée, situated four miles
from Weybridge ;” this time the rent was
still higher than any we had previously
seen. When we arrived at the village in
which the house was represented to be, we
asked for “ Heathfield House,” and were
told that no one knew of any residence
bearing that name; we were a little per-
plexed, and consulted the card of ad-
mittance to see whether we had brought
the wrong one—but no; there it was,
“ Heathfield House, four miles from Wey-
bridge, surrounded by its own grounds
of four acres, tastefully laid out in lawn,
flower and kitchen gardens, &c. &c. Rent
only 70/.” We began to imagine that we
were the victim of some hoax, and were
just on the point of telling the driver to
return to the station, when a dirty-looking
man came to the carriage, and said, “ Are
you looking for Heathfield House ?”

“Yes,” said we.

‘Well, Pll show it to you.”

‘Ts it far?” we asked; as no sign of a
decent habitation was to be seen near us.

“No; just over the way,” was the
answer.

We looked in the direction he indicated,
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE ? 7

and saw a “brick carcase” standing on a
bare, heathy piece of ground, without en-
closure of any kind.

“That!” cried we; “it is impossible
that can be the place we came to see !”

“Have you gota card from Mr.
was the query addressed to us.

“Yes,” was the reply.

“Very well; then if you will get out
Pll show it to you.”

As we had come so far we thought we
might as well finish the adventure, and
accordingly followed our guide over the
piece of rough muddy ground which led to
the brick walls before us. We found them
on a nearer inspection quite as empty as
they appeared from the road, neither doors
nor windows were placed in them, and the
staircases were not properly fixed. It was
with much trouble we succeeded in reach-
ing the floor where the bed-chambers were
. to be, and found that not even the boards
were laid down. We told our conductor
that the place would not suit us, as we were
compelled to remove from our present resi-
dence in three weeks.

“Well, if that’s all that hinders your

?”

 
8 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

taking it, Pll engage to get it all ready in
that time.”

“What! get the staircases fixed, the
doors and windows put in, the walls papered
and painted ?”

“Yes,” was answered in a confident
tone, which expressed indignation at the
doubt we had implied.

We then ventured to say, “ That, al-
lowing he could get the house ready by the
time we required to move, we saw no sign
of the coachhouse and stable, lawn or
flower-garden, kitchen-garden or meadow.”

‘‘ As for the coachhouse and stable,”
said the showman, “I can get your horses
put up in the village.”

We hastened to disclaim the horses, and
humbly confessed that our stud consisted
of one pony only.

‘The less reason to be in a hurry for
the stable, you can put one pony anywhere ;
and as for the lawn and gardens, they will
be laid out when the house is let; and the
heath will be levelled and sown for a mea-
dow, and anything else done for a good
tenant that is in reason.”

We were likewise assured that wonders
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE? 9

had been done already, for that four months
ago the ground was covered with furze.
We got rid of our talkative friend with the
promise that we would “think of it ;” and,
indeed, we did think, that Mr. , who
- was a very respectable house-agent, ought
to ascertain what sort of places were placed
in his hands before he sent people on such
profitless journeys. The expense attending
this one amounted to nearly thirty shillings.

Another week was passed in a similar
manner, in going distances varying from
ten to twenty-five miles in pursuit of houses
which we were induced to think must suit
us, but when seen proved as deceptive as
those I have mentioned. We gained no-
thing by our travels but the loss of time,
money, and hope. At last the idea entered
our heads of going to some of the house-
agents, and looking over their books.

Our first essay was at the office of
Mr. A. B. in Bond Street. “Have you
any houses to let at such a distance from
town, with such a quantity of land, such
a number of rooms?” &c.

“Oh, yes, madam,” said the smiling
clerk, and immediately opened a large
ledger ; ‘ what rent do you propose giving ?”

 
10 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

“From 501. to 70/. yearly,” answered
we, and felt how respectable we must ap-
pear in the opinion of the smart gentleman
whom we addressed; how great then was
our surprise when he closed his large
volume with a crash, and with a look of
supreme contempt, said, ‘‘ We have nothing
of that kind in our books.” To use one
of Fanny Kemble’s expressions, “ we felt
mean,” and left the office of this aristocra-
tical house-agent half ashamed of our
humble fortunes.

I fear I should tire the patience of the
reader, did I detail all our “ adventures in
search of a house,” but we must entreat
indulgence for our last journey. We once
more started on the South-Western line,
to see a house which, from the assurances
we had received from the owner, resident
in London, must at last be the house, and
for which the rent asked was 70/.; but
once more were we doomed to disappoint-
ment by finding that the “ handsome dining
and drawing-rooms” were two small par-
lours, with doors opening into each other;
and that “five excellent bed-chambers ”
were three small rooms and two wretched
attics.
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE ? 11

From the station to this place was four
miles ; and, as weary and hopeless we were
returning to it, it occurred to H. to ask
the driver if he knew of any houses to let
in the vicinity. He considered, and then
said, he only knew of one, which had been
vacant some time, and that parties who had
been to see it would not take it because it
was situated in a bad neighbourhood.

At the commencement of our search
that would have been quite sufficient to
have deterred us from looking at it, but
we could not now afford to be fastidious.
Our own house was let, and move from it
we must in less than a fortnight, so we
desired the driver to take us into this bad
neighbourhood, and were rewarded for the
additional distance we travelled by finding
an old-fashioned, but very convenient house,
with plenty of good-sized rooms in excellent
repair, a very pretty flower-garden, with
green-house, good kitchen-garden of one
acre, an orchard of the same extent well
stocked with fine fruit-trees, three acres of
good meadow-land, an excellent coach-
house and stabling, with houses for cows,
pigs, and poultry, all in good order.
12 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

The “bad neighbourhood” was not so
very bad. The cottages just outside the
gates were small, new buildings ; and once
inside, you saw nothing but your own
grounds. It possessed the advantage of
being less than two miles from a station,
and not more than twelve from London.

“This will do,” we both exclaimed,
“if the rent is not too high.”

We had been asked 120/. for much
inferior places; so that it was with great
anxiety we directed our civil driver to take
us to the party who had the disposal of
the house. When there, we met with the
welcome intelligence, that house, gardens,
orchard, meadows, and buildings, were all
included in a rental of 70/7. per annum.
We concluded the bargain there and then,
and that day fortnight took possession of
our “ Farm of Four Acres.”

Before we close this chapter, we will
address a few words to such of our readers
as may entertain the idea that houses in
the country may be had “ next for nothing,”
We had repeatedly heard this asserted, and
when we resolved to give 60/. a-year, we
thought that we should have no difficulty
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE ? 13

in meeting with a respectable habitation,
large enough for our family and with the
quantity of land we required, as well as
within a moderate distance of London.
We have already told the reader how fal-
lacious we found this hope to be. Houses
within forty or fifty miles of London, in
what are called “good situations,” are
nearly, if not quite as high rented, as those
in the suburbs, and land worth quite as
much. If at any time a “cheap place” is
to be met with, be quite sure that there is
some drawback to compensate for the low
price.

In our pilgrimages to empty houses, we -
frequently found some which were low-
rented, that is, from 40/. to 50/. per annum;
but either they were much smaller than we
required, or dreadfully out of repair, or
else they were built “‘ Cockney fashion,”
semi-detached, or, as was frequently the
case, situated in a locality which for some
reason or the other was highly objection-
able. We always found rents lower in pro-
portion to the distance from a station.

We one day went to Beaconsfield to view
a house, and had a fly from Slough, a drive
14 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

of several miles. The house was in the
middle of the town, large and convenient,
with good garden and paddock ; the whole
was offered us for 40/. yearly; and we
should have taken it, had‘not it been in
such a dismantled condition; that the agent
in whose hands it was placed informed us
that though he had orders to put it in
complete repair, he would not promise it
would be fit for occupation under several
months. The office of this gentleman was
next door to Mr. A. B.’s, in Bond Street ;
and we are bound to state, that though we
said that we did not wish to give more than
60/., we were treated with respect; and
several offered us, under these terms,
though attended with circumstances which
prevented our availing ourselves of them.
The house we at last found was not,
as regarded situation, what we liked; not
because of the cottages close to the en-
trance, but for the reason that there was
no “view,” but from the top windows, as
far as the lower part of the house was
concerned, we might as well have been in
the Clapham Road. It is true we looked
into gardens, front and back, but that was
WHERE SHALL WE LIVE ? 15

)

all; and we had to go through two or three
streets of the little town in which we were
located whenever we left the house for a
walk. Still we were, on the whole, well
pleased with our new home, and in the
next chapter will tell the reader how we
commenced a life so different to that we
had been accustomed to lead. .
16

CHAPTER II.

OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY.

Once fairly settled in our new habita-
tion, and all the important affairs attend-
ing the necessary alterations of carpets,
curtains, &c., being nearly finished, we
began to wonder what we were to do with
our ‘“ Farm of Four Acres.” That we
must keep a cow was acknowledged by
both ; and the first step to be taken was to
buy one. The small town in which our
house was situated boasted of a market
weekly, and there we resolved to make the
important purchase. Accordingly, we sent
our man-of-all-work to inspect those offered
for sale. Shortly he returned, accompanied
by the owner ofa small black cow, with a
‘ealf a week old. We purchased these ani-
mals for 10/.; and it was very amusing
to see all the half-dozen children running
into the stable-yard, with their little cups,
to enjoy the first-fruits of their country
OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY. 17

life. But what proved far more of a treat
than the new milk was the trouble of pro-
curing it, for the cow proved a very spiteful
one, and knocked the unfortunate milker,
with his pail, “ head-over-heels.” As he
was not in the least hurt, the juveniles
were allowed to laugh as long as they
pleased; but H. and myself looked rather
grave at the idea of having the milk knocked
down as soon as there was about a quart
in the pail.. We were, therefore, greatly
reassured when told that “ Madam Sukey”
would be quiet and tractable as soon as
her calf was taken away. ‘“ Then why not
take it at once?” said I, but was informed
that we must not deprive her of it for a
week. However, I am bound to confess
that our first week’s farming turned out
badly, for the cow would not be milked
quietly, and every morning we were in-
formed that two men were obliged to be
called in to hold her while she was milked.
At the end of the week we sold the calf for
one pound, and after a month the cow be-
came on quite friendly terms with her
milker, and has proved ever since very
profitable to our small dairy.
Cc
18 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

We did not contemplate making butter
with one cow, as we thought so large a
household would consume all the milk.
Very soon, however, “ nurse” complained
that “the milk was ‘too rich’ for the child-
ren; it was not in the least like London
milk ; it must either be watered or skimmed
for the little ones: but she would rather
have it skimmed.” That was done, and
for a whole fortnight, H. and myself used
nothing but cream in our tea and coffee.
At first this was a great luxury, and we
said continually to each: other how delight-
ful it was to have such a dainty in profu-
sion. Soon, like the children, we began to
discover it was “too good for us,” and
found that we liked plenty of new milk
much better for general use ; besides, con-
sume as much as we could, we had still
more than was wanted: so we invested three
pounds some odd shillings in a churn and
other requisites, and thought with great
satisfaction of the saving we should effect
in our expenses by making our own butter.
But now arose a difficulty which had not
previously occurred to us,—Who was to
make it? Our domestic servants both de-
OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY. 19

clared that they could not do so, and the
elder one, who had been many years in the
family, was born and bred in London, and
detested the country and everything con.
nected with it, gave her opinion in the
most decided manner, that there was quite
enough “muck” in the house already, with-
out making more work with butter-making ;
which, she said confidently, would only be
fit for the pig when it was made. Here
was a pretty state of things! what were we
to do? must we give up all hope of eating
our own butter, and regard the money as
lost which we had just expended for the
churn? &c. After a few minutes’ bewilder-
ment, the idea occurred to both of us at
the same moment: “ Cannot we make the
butter, and be independent of these house-
hold rebels?”

“But,” said I, dolefully, “we don’t in
the least know how to set about it.”

“What of that ?” replied H.: “ where
was the use of expending so much money
in books relative to a country life, as you
did before we left town, if they are not to
enlighten our ignorance on country mat-
ters? But one thing is certain, we cannot.
20 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

make butter till we have learnt how; so let
us endeavour to obtain the requisite know-
ledge to do so to-morrow.”

We accordingly devoted the remainder
of the day to consulting the various books
on domestic and rural economy we had
collected together previous to leaving Lon-
don. Greatly puzzled we were by them. On
referring to the subject of butter-making,
one authority said, “ you must never wash
the butter, but only knock it on a board,
in order to get the butter-milk from it.”
Another only told us to “ well cleanse the
butter-milk from it,” without giving us an
idea how the process was to be accom-
plished; while the far-famed Mrs. Rundle,
in an article headed “Dairy,” tells the dairy-
maid to “keep a book in which to enter
the amount of butter she makes,” and
gives but little idea how the said butter is
to be procured. Another authority said,
“after the butter is come, cut it in pieces
to take out the cow-hairs;” this appeared
to us the oddest direction of all, for surely‘
it was possible to remove them from the
cream before it was put into the churn.
We were very much dissatisfied with the
“OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY. 21

amount of practical knowledge we gleaned
from our books; they seemed to us written
for’the benefit of those who already were
well acquainted with the management of a
dairy, and consequently of very little ser-
vice to those who wished to acquire the
rudiments of the art of butter-making.
The next morning we proceeded to make
a trial, and the first thing we did was to
strain the cream through a loose fine cloth
into the churn, then taking the handle we
began to turn it vigorously ;* the weather
was hot, and after churning for more than
an hour, there seemed as little prospect of
butter as when we commenced. We stared
at each other in blank amazement. Must
we give it up? No; that was not to be
thought of. H.suddenly remembered, that
somewhere she had heard that in warm
weather you should put the churn in cold
water. As ours was a box one, we did not
see how we could manage this; but the
bright idea entered her head, that if we
could not put the water outside the churn
we might in: so we pumped a quart of
spring-water into it and churned away with

* Ninety times in a minute is the proper time in
which the handle should be turned.
22 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

fresh hopes : nor were we disappointed ; in
about a quarter of an hour we heard quite
a different sound as we turned the handle,
which assured us that the cream had under-
gone a change, and taking off the lid—
(how many times had we taken it off be-
fore !)—we saw what at that moment ap-
peared the most welcome sight in the
world —some lumps of rich yellow butter.
It was but a small quantity, but there it
was: the difficulty was overcome so far.
But now there arose the question of what
we were to do with it in order to clean it
from the butter-milk, for all our authorities
insisted on the necessity of this being done,
though they did not agree in the mode of
doing it. One said, “if it was washed,
that it would not keep good, because water
soon became putrid, and so would the but-
ter.” We were told by another book,
“that if it was not washed it would be of
two colours, and dreadfully rank.” We
thought that it would be easier not to wash
it, and we had it bad enough to justify the
term muck, which was applied to it by the
kitchen oracles, who rejoiced exceedingly in
our discomfiture. We left the dairy half
inclined to abjure butter-making for the
OUR FIRST DIFFICULTY. _ 28

future. Ina day or two we began to re-
flect, that as we had a “Farm of Four
Acres,” we must manage to do something
with it, and what so profitable to a large
family as making butter? So, when we had
collected sufficient cream, we tried again,
and this.time with great success. Wecom-
menced as before, by straining the cream,
and then taking the handle of the churn we
turned it more equally than we had done
before ; in half an hour we heard the wel-
come sound which proclaimed that the
“butter was come.” This time we washed
it well; it was placed in a pan under the
pump, and the water suffered to run on it
till not the least milkiness appeared in it ;
we then removed it to a board that had
been soaking for some time in cold water,
salted it to our taste, and afterwards, with
two flat boards, such as buttermen use in
London shops, made it up into rolls. It
was as good as it could be, and we were
delighted to think that we had conquered
all the difficulties attending its manufac-
ture: but we had yet to discover the truth
of the proverb, “that one swallow does not
make a summer.”
24

CHAPTER III.
OUR SECOND Cow.

WE soon found that we could not expect
to supply our family with butter from one
cow, and we thought that, as we had to
perform the duties of dairy-women, we
might as well have the full benefit of our
labour. We, therefore, purchased another
cow; but before doing so, were advised not
this time to have a Welsh one, but to give
more money and have a larger animal.
This we did, and bought a very handsome
strawberry-coloured one, for which, with
the calf, we gave 15/.; and here it will be
as well to say that we think it was 51.
thrown away, for in no respect did she
prove more valuable than the black one,
for which we had given but 10/. For a
small dairy, we think the black Welsh
cow answers as well, or better, than any
other. The price is very small, and, judg-
ing from our own, they are very profitable.
OUR SECOND ‘cow. 25

They are also much hardier than those of
a larger breed, and may be kept out all the
winter, excepting when snow is on the
ground.

After our new cow had been in our
possession just a week, we received one
morning the unwelcome intelligence that
the “new cow” was very bad. We went
into the meadow, and saw the poor crea-
ture looking certainly as we had been
told, “ very bad.” We asked our factotum
what was the matter with her. To this he
replied, that he did not know, but that he
had sent for a man who was “ very clever
in cows.”

In a short time this clever man arrived,
bringing with him a friend, likewise learned
in cattle. He went to see the patient, and
returned to us looking very profound.

“A bad job!” said he, with a shake
of the head worthy of Sheridan’s Lord
Burleigh. “A sad job, deed! and you
only bought her last market-day. Well,
it can’t be helped.”

“But what ails her?” said I.

“What ails her ! why, she’s got the lung
disease.”
26 — OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

“ But what is that?” said I.

“ What’s that! why, it’s what kills lots
of cows; takes ’em off in two or three days.
You must sell her for what she’ll fetch.
Perhaps you may get a couple of pounds
for her. I'll get rid of her for you.” “

“ But,” said H., “if she has the ‘lung
disease’ you talk of, you tell us she must
die.” ,

“Yes; she’ll die, sure enough.”

“Well, then, who will buy a cow that
is sure to be dead to-morrow or next day ?”

‘“‘Oh, that’s no concern of yours! You
get rid of her, that’s all.”

To this dictum we rather demurred,
and resolved to send for a “ comtocton?
and see if she could be cured ; if not, to
take care she was not converted after her
death into “country sausages” for the
benefit of London consumers of those
dainties. Our friendly counsellor was very
indignant at our perversity in not getting
rid of a cow with “the lung disease,” and
stamped out of the yard in a fit of virtuous
indignation. With proper treatment the
cow soon got well.

We still had occasional trouble with
.
i

OUR SECOND COW. 27

our butter-making ; sometimes’ it would
come in half an hour, sometimes we were
hard at work with the churn for two or
three hours, and in most cases the butter
was bad. We tried to procure information
on the subject, and asked several farmers’
wives in the neighbourhood “how long
butter ought to be in coming.” We always
received the same answer.

“Why you see, ma’am, that depends.”

‘“ Well,” we asked, ‘‘ what does it depend
on ?”

“ Oh, on lots of things.”

“ Well, tell us some of the things on
which it depends.”

“Why, you see it’s longer coming in hot
weather, and it’s longer coming in cold
weather, and it depends on how long the
cow has calved, and how you churn, and on
lots beside.”

We found we must endeavour to dis-
cover for ourselves the reason why we were
half an hour in getting it one day, and the
next, perhaps, two or three hours.

As the weather became colder we found
it more troublesome, and one frosty day we
churned four hours without success. We

put in cold water, we put in hot, we put in
4
28 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

salt, we talked of adding vinegar, but did
not; we churned as fast as we could turn
the handle, and then as slowly as possible,
but still no butter. At the end of more
than four hours our labours were rewarded.
The butter came: strong, rank stuff it was.

We determined before the next churn-
ing-day to try and find out the reason of
all this trouble. We once more took to
our books, but were none the wiser, for
none of them told us anything about the
particular thing we searched for. After
many experiments we tried the effect of
bringing the cream into the kitchen over-
night, and see if warmth would make any
difference. It was guess-work for two or
three churnings, but the discovery was
made at last, that we were always sure of
our butter in half an hour, provided the
cream was, when put into the churn, at a
temperature of from 50° to 6U0°.* No
matter how long the cow had calved, how

* We kept a small thermometer. for the purpose of
plunging into the cream-pot. If it was lower than
55° we waited till it reached that degree: if the weather
was very warm, and it rose higher than we have
specified, we did not attempt to churn till, by some
means, we had lowered it to the proper temperature.
OUR SECOND Cow. 29

hot or how cold the weather, if we put the
cream into the churn at that degree of heat
the butter was sure to come, in as near as
possible the time we have specified.

This, in the winter, was effected by
bringing the cream-pot into the kitchen
over-night ; and if the. weather was very
cold, placing it on a chair a moderate
distance from the fire for about a quarter
of an hour: boiling water was likewise put
into the churn for half an hour before it
was used.

Now, no doubt, a regular dairymaid
would “turn up her nose” at all these de-
tails; but I do ‘not write for those who
know their business, but for the benefit of
those ladies who, as is now so much the
custom, reside a few miles from the city or
town in which the business or profession of
their husbands may be situated. In many
cases they take with them town-bred ser-
vants to a country residence; and then,
like ourselves, find they know nothing what-
ever of the duties required of them. , To
those who have several acres of pasture
land, of course this little book is all “‘ bosh.”
They employ servants who know their work,
30 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

and perform it: properly ; but most “ sub-
urbans” require the cook to undertake
the duties of the dairy, and unless they
are regular country servants they neither
do their work well nor willingly. If any
lady, who has one or two cows, will in-
struct her servant to follow our direc-
tions she will always be sure of good
butter, with very little trouble. All that
is required is a churn, milk-pans (at the
rate of three to each cow), a milk-pail, a
board (or, better still, a piece of marble),
to make the butter up on, a couple of
butter-boards, such as are used in the shops,
to roll it into form, and a crock for the
cream.

In the next chapter we will give, as
concisely as we can, the whole process that
we ourselves used in our dairy.
31

CHAPTER IV.

HOW TO MAKE BUTTER.

Pur the cream into the churn at the tem-
perature of 55° to 60°; if the weather is
cold, let boiling water be put into it for
half an hour before you want to use it:
when that is poured off, strain in the cream
through a butter-cloth. When the butter
is coming, which is easily ascertained by
the sound, take off the lid, and with one of
the flat boards scrape down the sides of the
churn ; and do the same to the lid : this pre-
vents waste. When the butter is come the
butter-milk is to be poured off and spring-
water put in the churn, and turned for two
or three minutes : this is to be then poured
away, and fresh added, and again the handle
‘turned for a minute or two. Should there
be the least appearance of milkiness when
this is poured from the churn, more is to
be put. This we found was a much better
mode of extracting all the butter-milk than
32 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

placing it in a pan under the pump, as
we did when we commenced our labours.
The butter is then to be placed on the
board or marble, salted to taste; then,
with a cream-cloth, wrung out of spring-
water, press all the moisture from it. When
it appears quite dry and firm, make it up
into rolls with the flat boards. The whole
process should be completed in three quar-
ters of an hour.

We always had a large tub, which was
made for the purpose, and every article we
were going to use soaked in it for half an
hour in boiling water; then it was re-
moved, and cold spring-water substituted ;
and the things we intended to use remained
in it till they were required. This pre-
vents the butter from adhering to the
boards, cloth, &c., which would render the
task of “making it up” both difficult and
disagreeable.

In hot weather, instead of bringing the
cream-crock into the kitchen, it must be
kept as cool as possible; for as it is essential
in the winter to raise the temperature of
the cream to the degree I have stated, so
in the summer it must be lowered to it.
HOW TO MAKE BUTTER. 33

Should your dairy not be cool enough
for the purpose, it is best effected by keep-
ing the cream-pot in water as cold as you
can procure it, and by making the butter
early in the morning, and placing cold water
in the churn some time before it is used.
By following these directions you will have
good butter throughout the year.

The cows should be milked as near the
dairy as possible, as it prevents the cream
from rising well if the milk is carried any
distance.* It should be at once strained
into the milk-pans, and not disturbed for
forty-eight hours in winter and twenty-four
in summer. In hot weather it is highly
important that the cream should be per-
fectly strained from the milk, or it will
make it very rank. Half-a-dozen moderate-
sized lumps of sugar to every two quarts of
cream tend to keep it sweet. In summer
always churn twice a-week. Some persons
imagine that cream cannot be “ too sweet,”
but that is a mistake; it must have a cer-
tain degree of acidity, or it will not produce

* In very cold weather the milk-pans must be
placed by the fire some time before the milk is strained
into them, or the cream will not rise,

D
34 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

butter, and if put into the churn without it,
must be beaten with the paddles till it
acquires it. The cream should, in the sum-
mer, be shifted each morning into a clean
crock, that has first been well scalded and
then soaked in cold’ water; and the same
rule applies to all the utensils used in a
dairy. The best things to scrub the churn
and all wooden articles with, are wood-
ashes and plenty of soap.

In some parts of the country, the butter
made by the farmers’ wives for sale is not
washed at all; they say, “ It washes all the
taste away.” They remove it from the
churn, and then taking it in their hands,
dash it repeatedly on the board; that is
what they call “‘smiting” it. The butter
so made is always strong, and of two
colours, as a portion of the butter-milk
remains in it: if any of it were put into a
cup, and that placed in hot water for the
purpose of clarifying, there would, when it
was melted, be found a large deposit of
butter-milk at the bottom of the cup. We
have tried the butter made our way, and
there was scarcely any residuum.

Besides, this “‘smiting” is a most dis-
HOW TO MAKE BUTTER. 35

gusting process to witness. In warm
weather it adheres to the hands of. the
“‘smiter,” who puffs and blows over it as
if it were very hard work. Indeed I once
heard a strong-looking girl, daughter of a
small farmer in Kent, say she was never
well, for “smiting” the butter was such
dreadful hard work it gave her a pain in
her side. After this “smiting” is over it
is then put on a butter-print, and pressed
with the hands till it is considered to have
received the impression. Itis then, through
a small hole in the = blown off the
. print with the mouth.

I don’t think I. shall ever again eat
butter which appears at table with the
figures of cows, flowers, &c., stamped on
it. I should always think of the process it
has gone through for the sake of looking
pretty. Nearly all the fresh butter which
is sold in London is made up in large rolls,
and, like that we make ourselves, need not
be touched by the fingers of the maker.
36

CHAPTER V.
WHAT WE MADE BY OUR COWS.

Every week we kept an account of the
milk and butter we consumed, and entered
it in our housekeeping-book at the price we
should have paid for it, supposing we had
purchased the articles. We did not put
down London prices, but country ones:
thus, we charged ourselves with milk at
3d. the quart, and butter 1s. 3d. the pound ;
at the end of six months we made up our
accounts, and found we should have paid for -
milk from the 14th of July to the 24th of
January, 9/. 3s. 4d., and 14/. 3s. for butter.
The food for the cows during this period
cost us but 18s., which we paid for oil-
cake ; of which, when the weather became
cold, they had two pounds each daily. We
do not reckon the value of the hay they
consumed during the winter, because we
included the land in our rent. We mowed
three acres, which produced rather more
WHAT WE MADE BY OUR COWS. 37

*

than six loads of hay.* Getting in the crop
and thatching it cost, as nearly as possible,
3/., and the quantity was quite sufficient to
supply the two cows—with the calf of the
Strawberry, which we reared—and the pony.

_An acre of grass is usually considered
sufficient to support a cow during the year.
If that had to be rented apart from the
house, the average price would be about 5/.
Supposing we place that value on our land,
the accounts for six months would stand

thus :-—

Expenses.
Land at 5/. the acre for halfa year £5 O O
-Oil-cake i : ; ; - O18 O

Half the expense of getting in the

hay . fj F 7 < - 110.0
£7 8 O

‘ Produce.
Value of milk and butter . - £23 6 4

Leaving a balance in our favour at the end of six
months of 15/. 18s. 4d.

At the commencement of the winter a
cowkeeper in the neighbourhood told our

* We always had good crops, as the land had been
always well kept. It was not “upland” hay, but
our man said it had good “ heart” in it for the cows.
38 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

man that we should give our cows a little
mangel-wurzel. We inquired, why? and
were told that we should “keep our cows
better together ;” so we paid a guinea for
a ton of that vegetable. The first time we
made butter after they had been fed with
it, we found it had a very strong, bitter
taste. Still we did not condemn the
mangel-wurzel, but tried it another week.
The butter was again bad, so we abandoned
the roots and resolved to give the animals
nothing but hay.

When they were quite deprived of green
food the milk began to decrease, and as we
had heard that oil-cake was given to cattle,
we thought we would try some. We did,
and with complete success ; we had plenty
of milk, and the butter was as good as in
the middle of summer, and nearly as fine a
colour. We did not make so much as when
the cows had plenty of grass,— besides, it
was now several months since the black
cow had calved,— but we had sufficient for
the consumption of the family. The child-
ren, it is true, did not have so many tarts
as when both fruit and butter were more
plentiful.
WHAT WE MADE BY OUR COWS. 39

We hope that we have made all our
statements clearly, and that the reader will
have no difficulty in following us through
this narrative of “ butter-making.”

Of one thing we are quite sure, that it
is false economy to feed cows during the
winter on anything but what we have men-
tioned. Grains from the brewer and dis-
tiller are extensively used by cow-keepers
in large towns, but they cannot be procured
in the country; and we have been told that
cows fed with grains, though they may
yield plenty of milk, will not make much
butter.

One winter, when hay was scarce, we
found that they did very well with carrots
occasionally, and that they did not impart
any unpleasant taste to the butter. They
are likewise fond of potatoes anboiled, but
these things are only required when you
keep more stock than your land can sup;
port,—a fault very common to inexperienced
farmers on a small scale.
40

CHAPTER VI.
OUR PIGS.

We had every reason to be satisfied with
the profit we had derived from our dairy,
and next proceeded to examine the accounts
we had kept of our pigs for six months.
We commenced by purchasing, on the
14th of July, one for which we paid
30s. For the first month it had no-
thing but the wash from the house, the
skim-milk from the dairy, and greens from
the garden. When we began to dig the
potatoes, we found we could not hope to
save the whole crop from the disease; we
had, therefore, a quantity boiled and put
in the pig-tub, and upon these it was fed
another month. At the end of that time
we'began to give it a little meal and a few
peas. It was killed three months after
we had purchased it, and the cost for
meal and peas was just 10s. Thus, alto-
gether, we paid for it 2/., and when killed
OUR PIGS. 41

it weighed thirteen stone. This we reckoned
worth 5s. 6d. the stone, which made the
value of the meat 3/. lls. 6d.; we had,
therefore, a clear profit of 1/. lls. 6d.
Of course, it would have been very different
had we bought all the food for it; but the
skim-milk and vegetables from the garden
would have been wasted, had we been
without a pig to consume them : as it was,
the profit arose from our “Farm of Four
Acres.”

These particulars are given for the
reason that the writer has frequently heard
her friends in the country say, ‘‘ Oh, I never
keep either pigs or poultry : the pork and
the fowls always cost twice the price they
can be purchased for.” This we could
never understand, when the despisers of
home-cured hams and home-fed poultry
used to assert it. Supposing there was no
actual profit, still it seemed strange that
those who had the option of eating pork
fed on milk and vegetables, and fowls which
were running about the meadows a few
hours before they were killed, should prefer
those which are kept in close confinement
and crammed with candle-graves and other
49 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

abominations, till they are considered' what
dealers call “ripe” enough to kill; and as
for pork, much of that which is sold in
towns is fed on the offal from the butchers’
shops, and other filth. It is well known
that pigs will eat anything in the shape of
animal food ; and for myself, I would much
rather, like the Jew and the Turk, abjure
it altogether, than partake of meat fed as
pork too commonly is. How few people
can eat this meat with impunity! but they
might do so if the animal had been properly
fed.

It is a great mistake to make pork so
fat as it usually is: it is not only great
waste, but deters many persons from par-
taking of it. Servants will not eat it, and
those who purchase it, as well as those who
kill their own pigs, may be certain that the
surplus fat finds its way into the “ wash-
tub,” for the benefit of a future generation
of “ piggies.”

Our next venture proved equally for-
tunate. We bought three small pigs, for
which we gave 12s. each ; and as we wished
to have pickled pork and small hams, they
were killed off as we required them. The
OUR PIGS. 43

first cost 8s. for barley-meal and peas, and
weighed six stone, which, at 5s. 6d. a stone,
was worth 1/. 13s. As the cost of the pig
and the food came to just 1/., we had but
a profit of 13s.; but we considered we had
no right to complain: the meat was de-
licious, and partaken of by the children as
freely as if it had been mutton.

We kept the other pigs somewhat
longer, and they cost us no more for food ;
for, as I have already stated, they were
entirely kept with the produce of our ,
“ Four-Acre Farm,” till about three weeks
before they were killed. About a bushel
and a half of barley meal and a peck of
peas were all that was purchased for them.

The best way to ensure the healthy
condition of the animals is to let them have
the range, of a small meadow ; they should
likewise be occasionally well scrubbed with
soap and water. If they are thus treated,
how much more wholesome must the meat
be than when the poor creatures are shut
up in dirty styes, and suffered to eat any
garbage which is thrown to them! We
always had all their food boiled. At first
there was a great deal of opposition to the
44 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

“ muck” being introduced into the scullery ;
but in a little time that was overcome, and
a “batch” of potatoes used to be boiled in
the copper about once a month. When the
skim-milk was removed from the dairy, it
was taken to the “trough,” and some of it
mixed with a portion of the boiled potatoes,
and with this food they were fed three times
daily.

We have been told by a practical far-
mer on a large scale, that when potatoes
are not to be procured, a pig of thirty-five
stone may be fattened in ten days on some-
thing less than two hundred weight of
carrots. We intend to try if this is the
case, and have half an acre of our orchard
(which is arable) sown with carrot-seed,
and feed our “stock” in the winter with
the produce. With the surplus milk of
two cows we find we can always keep three
pigs with very little expense. Of course,
if we did not plant plenty of potatoes, we
must purchase more meal for them ; but as
we have an acre of kitchen-garden, we can
very well spare half of it to grow'roots for
the cows and pigs. We do not reckon
labour in our expenses, as we must have
OUR PIGS. 45

had a gardener, even if we had not so much
spare ground, for our flower-garden and
green-house require daily work.

We hope we have convinced those who
may think of having a “little place” a few
miles from town, that it may be made a
source of profit as well as of amusement,
and that any trouble which may be expe-
rienced by the lady superintending her own
dairy and farm will be repaid by having
her table well supplied with good butter,
plenty of fresh eggs (of the poultry-yard
we shall speak presently), well-cured hams,
bacon, delicate and fresh pork, well-fed
ducks, and chickens. All those country
dainties are easily to be procured on a
“ farm of four acres.”

Nor must another item be omitted—
health ; for if you wish to be fortunate in
your farming, you must look after things
yourself, and that will necessitate constant
exercise in the open air. We think that
we have given, full particulars for the
management of the cow and pig.

In the next chapter we will relate our
experience of the poultry-yard.
46

CHAPTER VII.
OUR POULTRY.

WE commenced stocking our poultry-yard
in July, by purchasing twenty-eight chickens
and twenty ducks, for which we paid
31. 6s. 4d. in the market. Some of them
were too young for the table at the time
we purchased them, but were all consumed
at the end of four months, with the excep-
tion of seven hens and a cock, which we
saved for “stock.” Thus in the time I
have mentioned we killed ten couple of
ducks, and the same of fowls. These we
entered in our housekeeping expenses at
5s. 6d. a couple, though they were larger
and better than could have been purchased
in a London shop for 7s.

We must now proceed to reckon what
they cost for food, and then see if any
balance remained in our favour. They
consumed during the time they were getting
OUR POULTRY. AT

in order for the table, three bushels of
barley, at 5s. the bushel, one bushel of
meal, at the same price, and one hundred
weight of what is called “ chicken rice,”
at 12s. 04.7

The cost of the barley and meal was £1 0 /0

Rice. : >» « » Oaetos
Cost of nonleey : : : . 8 6 4

—— +

Making the total price . - £4 18 14 g

Ten couple of ducks, and the same number of
chickens, would amount to 51. 10s.

Thus, at the first sight, it would appeat
that we gained but 11s. 8d. by four months’
trouble in-attending to our fowl-yard ; but
we have now. to take from the purchase
money the value of the eight we saved for
stock, and likewise to.deduct from the bar-
ley and rice the quantity eqnsumed by them.
in the four months. Now these eight were

   

ab leds a fourth part of that consu
We have then to take off 16s. from the
first cost of the poultry, and 8s. from the
value of the food, which will add 24s. to
48 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

the 11s. 8d., leaving on the whole transac-
tion a profit of 1/. 15s. 8d.

We have still another smal! item to add.
One of the hens we saved began to lay in
the middle of September, and by the time
the four months were expired had given us
two dozen eggs, which at that time of year,
even in the country, were not to be pro-
cured under ls. 6d. the dozen; so that we
have to add 3s. to 1/. 15s. 8d., making a
clear profit in four months of 1/. 18s. 8d.

It was a source of great amusement to
ourselves, as well as to the children, by
whom it was always considered a treat to
run in the meadows, with barley in their
little baskets, to the ‘“ coobiddies.”. When
we first had the poultry we kept them in
the stable-yard ; but we soon found they
did not thrive: they had been taken from
a farm where they had the free range of
the fields, and drooped in confinement, and
from want of the grass and worms, which
they had been accustomed to feed on. We
had a house constructed for them in the
meadow nearest the house, and soon found
that they throve much better, and did not
require so much food. We had no trouble
OUR POULTRY. 49

‘with them, except in seeing that the house
was cleaned out daily. Through the fields
flowed a stream of clean water, consequently
our ducks throve well. The bushel of meal
which figures in our accounts was for them;
they used to have -a little mixed in hot
water once a day. We soon left it off, for
we found the rice boiled in skim-milk was
equally good for them, and much cheaper.

Poultry of all kinds are very fond of
“scraps ;” the children were always told to
cut up pieces of potatoes, greens, or meat,
which they might leave on their plates at
the nursery dinner ; and when they were re-
moved tothe kitchen, they were collected
together and put into the rice-bowl for the
chickens. We always fed them three times
daily : in the morning with rice, in the
middle of the day with “scraps,” and in
the evening they had just as much barley
thrown to them as they cared to pick up
eagerly.

We had heard some persons complain
of the great expense attending a poultry-
yard, but this arises from iy person who
has the charge of them throwing down just
as much grain again as the fowls can con-

E
50 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

sume. We have ourselves often seen barley
trodden into the ground, if occasionally we
left the task of feeding to the lad.

It must, of course, be impossible at all
times for a lady to go into the fields for the
purpose of feeding her chickens ; the only
plan to prevent waste is. to have a meal-
room in the house, and as much given out
daily as is considered necessary for the
consumption of the poultry. This is some
little trouble, but will be well repaid by
having at all times cheap and wholesome
fowls, &c.

We have hitherto only spoken of the
profit which may be obtained from a fowl-
yard, when the stock is purchased. The
farmer’s wife, from .whom we bought ours,
of course gained some money by their sale:
When we reared our own chickens from
our own eggs, we received much more
emolument from our yard; but in this
little volume it is my purpose to show how
a person should commence, who leaves
London or any other large town for a
suburban residence.

It must always be borne in mind, that
nothing will prosper if left wholly to ser-
OUR POULTRY. 51.

vants ; the country proverb of “the mas-
ter’s eye fattens the steed,” is a very true
one; and another is quite as good: “the
best manure you can put on the ground is
the foot of the master.” As a proof of our
assertion we will, in the next chapter, de-
tail the disasters we experienced when we
left the charge of rabbits to the superin-
tendence of a servant.
CHAPTER VIII.
OUR LOSSES.

Our young people were very anxious to add
some rabbits to their playthings, and as we
always like to encourage a love of animals
in children, we consented that they should
become the fortunate shareholders in a doe
and six young ones. These were bought
early in September, and as long as the
weather would allow, the children used to
take them food; by and by, however, one
died, and then came the complaint that
Master Harry had killed it by giving it too
much green meat. The young gentleman
was thereupon commanded not to meddle
with them for the future, but the rabbits
did not derive any benefit from his obedi-
ence ; two or three times weekly we heard
of deaths taking place in the hutch, till at
last the whole half-dozen, with their mamma,
reposed under the large walnut-tree.

One day the lad who had attended to
OUR LOSSES. 53

them knocked at the drawing-room door,
and on entering with a large basket, drew
from it a most beautiful black-and-white
doe, and held it up before our admiring
eyes; this was followed by the display of
seven young ones, as pretty as the mother.

‘ Please, ma’am,” said Tom, “ these are
the kind of rabbits you ought to have
bought. My brother keeps rabbits, and
these are some of his; I'll warrant they
won't die!”

Willing once more to gratify the child-
ren, as well as to solve the enigma of
whether it must be inevitable to lose by
keeping those animals, we became the
possessors of these superior creatures, with
the understanding that no one was to have
anything to do with them but Tom, the
said Tom saying, with perfect confidence,
that “he would ‘warrant’ they should
weigh five pounds each in six weeks.”

Not being learned in rabbits, we trusted
to his experience and promises that we
should always from that time have a brace
for the table whenever we wished for them.
What was our disappointment, then, when
a week after we heard of the death of one of
54 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

them! This was soon followed by another,
and another, till the whole seven little
“bunnies” shared the grave under the wal-
nut-tree, and in a day or two the doe like-
wise departed: I concluded she died of
grief for the loss of her offspring.

In vain did we endeavour to discover
the reason of this mortality; it could not
have been for want of food, for they con-
sumed nearly as many oats as the pony.
At last Tom thought of the hutch, or
“locker,” as he called it. ‘It must,” said
he, gravely, “have had the disease.”

“What disease?” asked we; but we
could get no other name for it than the
disease. So what that fatal complaint
among rabbits is, remains a profound mys-
tery to us.

Now this hutch was made of new wood
in a carpenter’s shop, at a cost of nearly
2/., and how it could have become infected
with this fearful complaint we could not
comprehend. | However, from that time we
abandoned rabbit-keeping, and resolved,
not for the future to keep any live stock
which we could not look after ourselves.
We did not attempt to do so in this case,
OUR LOSSES. 55

because we were frightened at the respon-
sibility Tom threw on our shoulders, if we
looked at them,—the doe always eating
her young ones was one of the evils to
be dreaded by our interference.

I suppose profit is to be made by keep-
ing them, or tame rabbits would not be
placed in the poulterers’ shops by the side
of ducks and chickens, but we are quite at
a loss to know how it is accomplished. It
did not much matter in a pecuniary point
of view, as it was very doubtful if the
children’s pets would ever have died for the
benefit of the dinner-table, and I only in-
sert this chapter for the purpose of proving
what I stated, viz. that if a lady wishes her
stock of any kind to prosper, she must look
after it herself. When I say prosper, I
mean without the expense being double the
value of the produce she would receive
from her “ four-acre farm.”

We did not enter these disasters in our
housekeeping-book, it went under the title
of children’s expenses. For my own part
I am disposed to think that it must always
be expensive to keep live stock of any kind
for which all the food has to be purchased.
56 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

Had we continued to keep our fowls in the
yard, I am convinced they would have
brought us little or no profit ; but the grass,
worms, and other things they found for
themselves in the field, half supplied them
in food, as well as keeping them healthy.
We had not one death amongst our poultry
in the six months of which I have been re-
lating this experience of our farming.

Our next venture proved more pros-
perous than the rabbits, and will be related
in the following chapter.
57

CHAPTER IX.
OUR PIGEONS.

AFTER we had been a few months in the
country, a friend, who was a great pigeon-
fancier, wished to add some new varieties
to his cote, and offered to send us, as a
present, seven or eight pairs of those he
wished to part with. We were greatly
pleased with his offer, and at once set the
carpenter at work to prepare a house for
them. As soonas it was ready we received
sixteen beautiful pigeons. .

For the first fortnight the pigeon-holes
were covered with net, that they might be
enabled to survey at a distance their new
abode, and become accustomed to the sight
of the persons about the yard. When the
net was removed, they eagerly availed them-
selves of their freedom to take flights round
and round the house. One couple, of less
contented disposition than the others, never
returned, nor did we ever hear that they
58 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

had returned to their old home. Our, num-
ber was not, however, lessened by their
desertion, for we received, at nearly the
same time, from another friend, a pair of
beautiful “ pouters.”

As we resolved to keep a debtor-and-
ereditor account of all the things we kept,
we found that our eighteen pigeons con-
sumed in every seven weeks :—

s. d.
Two pecks of peas 3.0
One peck of tares 1 6
Ditto maize 1 4
5 10

In the first fourteen weeks we kept
them, we received but two pairs of young
ones, which were most mercilessly slaugh-
tered for a pie. The price of these in the
market would have been ls. 6d. per pair,
so that we were losers on our stock; but
we must say that we did not receive them.
till nearly the end of September, and we
were agreeably surprised at finding we had
young ones fit for the table at Christmas.

From that time we have been well re-
compensed for our peas, tares, and maize,
as they produce on an average a pair every
OUR PIGEONS. 59

six weeks; thus the produce was worth
12s. while the cost was something less
than 6s. Even had there been no profit
derived, we should still have kept them, as
we consider no place in the country com-
plete without these beautiful and graceful
little creatures. It was a subject of never-
failing delight to the children, watching
them as they wheeled round and round
the house of an evening, and it was. always
considered a great privilege to be allowed
to feed them.
At first the food was kept in the stable,
and Tom was the feeder; but we were
soon obliged to alter this, as we never went
into the yard without treading on the corn.
It was afterwards removed to the back
kitchen, round the door of which they
used to assemble in a flock, till one of the
“servants threw them out their allowance.
They were considered “pets” by all the
household, and were so tame that they
would allow themselves to be taken in the
hand and stroked. ‘

As for the young ones, who were doomed

to the steak, we never saw them till they
made their appearance in the pie. They
60 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

were taken from the nest as soon as they
were fledged.

I mention this, because we were some-
times accused by our visitors (for whose
especial benefit the young ones were some-
times slain) of cruelty, in eating the “ pretty
creatures ;” but we never found that they
had any scruples in partaking of them at
dinner. It was usually as they were watch-
ing of a summer evening the flight of the
parent birds that we were taxed with our
barbarity.

We were one day much amused by a
clergyman of our acquaintance, who kept
a great number of these birds in a room,
and who, in default of children to pet, made
pets of his pigeons. At dinner, a pigeon-
pie made part of the repast. This was
placed opposite a visitor, who was re-
quested to carve the dainty. He did so,
and sent a portion of it to his host. The
reverend gentleman looked at the plateful
sent him attentively, and then said with
a sigh, “I will trouble you to exchange
this for part of the other bird. This was
a peculiar favourite, and I always fed it
myself. I put a mark on the breast after
OUR PIGEONS. 61

it was picked, for I could not bear to eat
the little darling !”

We always thought that this sentimental
divine had better either not have had the
“little darling” put into the pie, or have
swallowed his feelings and his favourite at
the same time.

This dish seems to occasion wit as well
as sentiment, for we were once asked by a
facetious friend, “‘ Why is a pigeon in a
pie like Shakspeare’s Richard HI.?” We
“gave it up,” and were told, “ Because it
was bound unto the steak (stake), and
could not fly.” This may perhaps be a
worn-out jest, but it was fresh to the
writer, and so perhaps it may be to some
of her readers.

We will say a few words on the manage-
ment of pigeons before we conclude this
chapter.

It is necessary that a pan of water
should be placed in their house each day
for them to wash in, and that a large lump
of bay-salt should likewise be kept there.
It should be occasionally cleaned out, and
this is all the trouble attending keeping
them. Feed them three times a day; and
62 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

never throw more down than they pick up
at a meal.

As I have said nothing of the profit
derived from chickens when they are reared
by the owner, so I now say nothing of the
saving in keeping pigeons, when we came
to sowa large patch of Indian corn, as well
as some tares. We did so successfully in
the acre of ground called the Orchard; and
though we had abundance of fine fruit from
it, the trees were not planted so thickly as
to prevent any kind of crop from flourish-
ing. But we repeat, this little book is
a manual for the use of the beginner ; and
to such we hope it may prove both useful
and encouraging.
CHAPTER X.
HOW WE CURED OUR HAMS.

‘J HAVE now recounted our experience in
keeping cows, pigs, chickens, ducks, rabbits,
and pigeons ; and with everything but the
rabbits we were amply satisfied with the.
return we received for our labour. We
had a constant supply of milk, butter, eggs,
ducks, chickens, and pork, not only fresh,
but in the shape of good hams and bacon.
I do not know whether it>.is not pre-
sumptuous, in the face of Miss Acton, Mrs.
Rundle, and so many other authorities,
not forgetting the great Alexis Soyer, to
give “our method of curing” the last-men-
tioned dainties ; but we think we may as
well follow up the history of our pigs, from
the sty to the kitchen. I always found
that the recipes usually given for salting
pork contained too much saltpetre, which
not only renders the meat hard, but causes
it to be very indigestible. The following
64 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

is the manner in which they were cured by
ourselves :—

For each ham of twelve pounds weight:
Two pounds of common salt.
Two ounces of saltpetre.
} pound of bay salt.
3 pound of coarse sugar.

The hams to be well rubbed with this
mixture, which must be in the finest powder.
It is always the best plan to get your butcher
to rub the meat, as a female hand is hardly
heavy enough to do it effectually ; they
aré then placed in a deep pan, and a wine-
glass of vinegar is added. They should
be turned each day; and for the first three
or four should be well rubbed with the
brine. After that time it will be sufficient,
with a wooden or iron spoon, to well ladle

iivover the meat. They should remain

4: weeks in the pickle. When removed
from it, they must be well wiped, put in
brown-paper bags, and then smoked with
wood smoke for three weeks.

We once had nearly a whole pig spoiled
by its being taken to a baker’s, where it
was dried, but not smoked. When it came
back it resembled very strong tallow.
HOW WE CURED OUR HAMS. 65

In villages it is usual to send bacon and
hams to be dried in the chimneys of farm-
houses where wood is burnt, in the old-
fashioned manner, on dogs; but if resident
in or near a small town, there is always a
drying-house to be met with, where we be-
lieve sawdust is used for fuel. We have
had our own dried in this manner, and
always found them excellent.

We use the same pickle for twenty-four
pounds weight of bacon, with the exception
that we allow two pounds more of common
salt, and when it is turned the second time
the same quantity of salt is rubbed into it.

Some persons make a pickle of water,
salt, sugar, and saltpetre, boiled together,
and when cold put in the hams, &c. with-
out any rubbing. We have never tried
that way for meats that are to be dried,
but can strongly recommend it for sat
beef, pork, or mutton. The following is.
the pickle always used in our kitchen :—

Three gallons of soft water.
One pound of coarse sugar.

Two ounces of saltpetre.
Three pounds of common salt.

Boil together, and let it be well skimmed ;
F
66 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

then, when cold, the meat to be well wiped
and put into it. It will be fit to cook in
ten days, but may be kept without injury
for two months, when the pickle should be
reboiled and well skimmed. The meat
should be covered with brine and the pan
have a cover.

We have put legs of mutton into this
pickle, and can assure the reader it is an
excellent mode of cooking this Joint, and as
it is one which frequently makes its appear-
ance at table where the family is large, it is
. sometimes a pleasant method of varying
the dish. It is the best way of any we
know of; for curing tongues it has the
great advantage of being always ready for
use, and you are not fearful of the care-
lessness of servants, who not unfrequently
forget to look to the salting-pans.

We can recommend a dish not often
seen at table, and that is a sirloin of beef
put into this pickle for about a fortnight.
It is infinitely superior either to the round
or edgebone, and certainly not so extrava-
gant as the last-named joint.

A friend has told us that we should
procure some juniper-berries to put into
HOW WE CURED OUR HAMS. 67

our ham-pickle, but there were none to be
purchased in our neighbourhood, and as we
are quite ignorant of the flavour they might
impart, we did not trouble ourselves to get
them. Iam fond of old proverbs, and as
our hams and bacon were always good, we
determined to “let well alone.”
68

CHAPTER XI.
OUR BREAD.

Any lady who thinks of trying a country
residence, should see that it possesses a
small brick oven, for ‘“ home-made” bread -
ought always to be considered indispensable
in the country. We did not discover that
our new home was without one till after we
entered it. We were laughed at by our
landlord when we mentioned our want of
this convenience.

“Why !” cried he, “ there is a baker’s
shop not five minutes’ walk from the house.”

“ Never mind,” said I, “ how near the
baker’s shop may be; we mean to have all
our bread made at home. It will be, we
are sure, better to do so, both on the score
of health and economy.”

“But I really,” said the gentleman,
“cannot afford to build you an oven; it
would cost me 20/. at the least.”

At this H., who had resided for a short
OUR BREAD. 69

time in a house where the bread was made
at home, laughed, and said, “ Really, Mr.
L., you need not fear that we wish to put
you to so much expense, and it is perhaps
but fair that we should meet you half-way
in the matter ; so if you will find labour we
will find materials: or reverse it, if you
please.”

Mr. L. then remembered that he kisd
in some outhouse a quantity of “fire
bricks,” and it was arranged that we should
pay for the labour of constructing a three-
peck oven. This occasioned on our part
an outlay of 2/., and this small sum was the
source of considerable saving to us yearly.

We were more fortunate with our bread
than with our butter-making, for Mary was
a capital baker; our bread was always
made from the best flour. We all liked it
much better than bakers’ bread, and it was
much more nourishing. Indeed, when I
was once in Kent during “ hopping,” and
saw that the women who resided in the
neighbourhood always gave up half-a-day’s
work weekly for the purpose of going home
to bake, I used to wonder why they did
not purchase their bread from a baker in
70 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

the village. I was told by one of them to
whom I put the question, “ Lord, ma’am,
we could not work on bakers’ bread, we
should be half-starved; it’s got no heart
in it.”

To a small family, perhaps, the saving
might not be considered an object, but any
one who has for a few months been accus-
tomed to eat home-made bread, would be
sorry to have recourse to the baker’s; the
loaves purchased are usually spongy the
first day, and dry and harsh the second.
It is not only that other ingredients than
flour, yeast, and water are mixed in the
dough, but it is seldom sufficiently baked ;-
bread well made at home and baked in a
brick oven for a proper time, is as good at
the end of a week as it is the second day.

I have heard several persons say, “I
should like home-made bread if it were
baked every day, but I don’t like eating
stale bread four or five days out of the
seven.” If they stayed with us a day or
two, they became- convinced that bread
which had been made three or four days
did not deserve the epithet of “stale.”

I will now proceed to show the reader
OUR BREAD. 71

how much flour was consumed in our
household, consisting of thirteen persons.

We used to bake weekly twenty-eight
pounds of flour, of the best quality ; this
produced forty-two pounds of bread. I will
give in the most explicit manner I can di-
rections for making it, which I should
imagine any servant will be able to com-
prehend :—

Place in a large pan twenty-eight pounds
of flour ; make a hole with the hand in the
centre of it like a large bason, into which
strain a pint of yeast from the brewer's ;
this must be tasted, and if too bitter a
little flour sprinkled in it, and then strained
directly : then pour in two quarts of water,
of the temperature of 100°, that is, what
is called blood-heat, and stir the flour round
from the bottom of the hole you have
formed with the hand, till that part of the
flour is quite thick and well mixed, though
all the rest must remain unwetted ; then
sprinkle a little flour over the moist part,
and cover with a cloth: this is called
“sponge,” and must be left half an hour
to rise.

During this time the fire must be lighted
72 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

in the oven with fagots, and the heat well
maintained till the bread is ready ‘to enter
it. At the end of the half hour add four
yuarts of water, of the same heat as the
previous two quarts, and well knead the
whole mass into a smooth dough. This is
hard work, and requires strength to do it
properly.

It must be again covered and left for one
hour. In cold weather both sponge and
dough must be placed on the kitchen-hearth,
or it will not rise well.

Before the last water is put in, two
table-spoonsful of salt must be sprinkled
over the flour.

Sometimes the flour will absorb another
pint of water.

When the dough has risen, it must be
made up into loaves as quickly as possible;
if much handled then, the bread will be
heavy.

It will require an hour and a half to
bake it, if made into four-pound loaves.

While the dough is rising the oven must.
be emptied of the fire, the ashes swept from
it, and then well wiped with a damp mop
kept for the purpose. To ascertain if it is
OUR BREAD. 13

sufficiently heated, throw a little flour into
it, and if it brown directly, it will do.

I think I have stated every particular
necessary to enable a novice to make a
“batch” of good bread. I will sum up the
articles requisite to produce forty-two
pounds of the best quality :—

Flour, 28 pounds.
Water at 100°,'12 or 13 pints.
Two table-spoonsful of salt.
Yeast, 1 pint.

Bake one hour and a half.

The quantity made was ten and a half
quarterns, or four-pound loaves ; and, as I
have said, supplied our family of thirteen
persons for the week. For the same num-
ber, when we were residing in town, the
baker used to leave thirteen quarterns
weekly.

One day, in the country, when, from
the accidental absence of the bread-maker,
we had to be supplied from the baker, we
were surprised to hear that at the nursery-
breakfast the children (six) and nurse con-
sumed more than a two-pound loaf, and
then were complaining of being “so
hungry” two hours after. I thought of
74 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

the words of the Kentish hopper, “that
there was no heart in bakers’ bread.”

The servant who has the management
of the oven should be instructed to take
care that the wood-ashes are not thrown
into the dust-hole with the ashes from the
grates. They are always valuable in the
country; and, as I have mentioned, the
wooden articles used in the dairy should
always be scrubbed with them. Should
the water which is used in the house be
hard, and any washing done at home, they
should be placed in a coarse cloth over a
tub, and water poured over them several
times to make lye, which softens the water,
and saves soap much more than soda, and
is likewise better for the-linen.

The brick oven will often prove a source
of great convenience, independent of bread-
making. It is just the size to bake hams
or roasting-pigs, and will, when dinner-
parties are given, frequently prove much
more useful to the cook than an extra fire.

The fagots are sold by the hundred,
and the price is usually 25s. for that
quantity.
75

CHAPTER XII.
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN.

As I wish to make this little work a com-
plete manual to the “ Farm of Four Acres,”
I must insert a few remarks on the manage-
ment of the kitchen-garden. Ours con-
sisted of an acre, and, large as our family
was, we did not require more than half of
it to supply us with vegetables, independent
-of potatoes.

We strongly advise any one who may
have more garden than they may want for
vegetables, to plant the surplus with po-
tatoes. Even if the “disease” does affect
part of the crop, the gain will still be great,
providing you keep animals to consume
them ; for they must, indeed, be bad if the
pigs will not thrive on them when boiled.
Poultry, likewise, will eat them in pre-
ference to any other food.

We had something more than half an
acre planted one year when the disease was
76 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

very prevalent; the crop suffered from it
to a considerable extent, but the yield was
so large, that we stored sufficient to supply
the family from September till the end of
April, and had enough of those but slightly
affected to fatten four pigs, beside having a
large bowlful boiled daily for the poultry.
The worst parts were always cut out before
they were boiled, and neither pigs nor
poultry were allowed to touch them raw.

It is much the best plan to consume all
the potatoes you may grow, rather than
save any of them for seed. It will be but
a slight additional expense to have fresh
kinds sent from quite a different locality,
and they will thrive better, and not be so
liable to the disease.

They should always be dug before the
slightest appearance of frost, and placed on
straw in a dry place, where they can be
conveniently looked over once: a fortnight,
when any that show symptoms of decay
should be removed, and boiled at once for
the pigs. By this method very few will be
wholly wasted ; instead of eating potatoes
you will eat pork, that is, if you have
plenty of skim-milk. I do not at all know
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN. V7

how pigs would like them without they
were mixed up with that fluid.

We have tried, with great success, plant-
ing them in rows alternately with other
vegetables. When they are all together,
the haulms in wet seasons grow so rankly
that they become matted together; and
then, as the air is excluded from the roots,
it renders them liable to.disease. We have
tried cutting the haulm off to within a few
inches of the ground; but this, the gar-
dener said, proved detrimental to the
roots. We afterwards tried a row of po-
tatoes, then cabbage, then carrots, and
then again came the potatoes. We once
planted them between the currant and
gooseberry-bushes, but it was as bad, or
worse, than when a quantity of them were
by themselves ; for when the trees made
their Midsummer shoots the leaves quite
shut out air and light from the potatoes,
and when dug they proved worse than any
other portion of the crop.

We always found, that the deeper the
sets were placed in the ground the sounder
were the roots. We tried every experi-
ment with them; and as our gardener
78 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

was both skilful and industrious, we were
usually much more fortunate with our pro-
duce than our neighbours.

Carrots rank to the “small farmer”
next in value to the potatoes: not only
pigs and cows are fond of them, but like-
wise horses. The pony always improved
in condition when he was allowed to have
a few daily.

Our arable acre was a model farm on
a very small scale. We grew in it maize
for the poultry, tares for the pigeons, lu-
cerne for the cows, and talked of oats for
the pony. This our gardener objected to,
so the surplus bit of ground was sown with
parsnips, which turned out very profitable,
as both pigs and cows liked them.

We have told the reader that we reared
the calf of the Strawberry cow, and it cost
us hardly anything to do so, for it was fed
in the winter with the roots we had to spare.
The first winter it had to consume the
greater part of the ton of mangel-wurzel
we had bought “to keep our cows toge-
ther.” Some we had boiled with potatoes
for the pigs, and they liked it very well.

An acre of land may appear a laughably
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN. 79

small piece of ground to produce such a
variety of articles, but if well attended to,
the yield will astonish those who are igno-
rant of gardening. The one important
thing to be attended to, is to see that all
seed crops are well thinned out as soon as
they are an inch above the surface. In
very few kitchen-gardens is this attended
to, and for want of this care a dozen car-
rots, parsnips, or turnips, are allowed to
stand where one would be sufficient. The
one would prove a fine root, the dozen are
not worth the trouble of pulling, as they
can get neither air nor room to grow. To
be well done they should be thinned by
hand, and that being a tedious “job,”
gardeners seldom can be induced to per-
form the work properly.

As our ground became productive we
added another cow, and more pigs and
poultry, but I shall not now say with what
success. This little book is only intended
for the novice in farming, and details only
the results of the first six months of our
“Farm of Four Acres.”

Perhaps I should have called it five
acres, as nearly the whole of the acre of
80 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

kitchen-garden was devoted to the culti-
vation of food for our “ stock.”

We had a very broad sunny border
at the back of the flower-garden, which
grew nearly all the spring and summer
vegetables we required: such as_ sea-
kale, early potatoes, peas, cauliflowers,
and salads.

We have not yet said anything of the
money we saved by our kitchen-garden,
but we must add to the profits of our six
months’ farming the average amount we
should have paid to a green-grocer for fruit
and vegetables.

One shilling a-day to supply thirteen
persons with these necessary articles, is
certainly not more than must have been
expended. Still, 18/. per annum is a con-
siderable item of household expenditure,
and scanty would have been the supply it
would have furnished ; as it was, we had a
profusion of fruit of all kinds, from the
humble gooseberry and currant to the finest
peaches, nectarines, and hot-house grapes,
as well as an abundant supply of walnuts
and filberts.

Had we bought all the produce of our
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN, 81

garden, the value would have more than
paid our gardener’s wages.

Nor must I omit the luxury of having
beautiful flowers from the greenhouse
throughout the winter; these superfluous
items did not figure in our accounts. We
should have purchased nothing but bare
necessaries, and therefore entered but 1s.
a-day for “garden stuff” in our house-
keeping book.

Those only who have lived in the coun-
try can appreciate the luxury of not only
having fruit and vegetables in abundance,
but of having them fresh. Early potatoes
fresh dug, peas fresh gathered, salad fresh
cut, and fruit plucked just before it makes
its appearance at table, are things which
cannot be purchased by the wealthiest
residents in a great city.

Not far from our residence there were
large grounds, which were cultivated with
fruit and vegetables for the London market.
I have frequently seen the waggons packed
for Covent Garden. The freshest that can
be procured there would be considered
“stale” in the neighbourhood in which
they were grown. Any fruit or vegetables

G
82 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

in that far-famed market must have been
gathered twenty-four hours before they
could find their way into the kitchen of
the consumer ; and it is not only the time
which has elapsed,.but the manner in which
they are packed, which so much deterio-
rates their quality.

Have any of our readers ever seen the
densely-loaded waggons which enter that
market? they are wedged as closely to-
gether as they can be pressed, which very
soon causes, in warm weather, cabbages,
greens, &c. to ferment and become un-
wholesome. I have often seen them so
loaded in the middle of the day before they
reached London. They are left in the hot
sun till the time arrives when the horses
are placed in them, and they begin their
slow journey towards town. ‘This is sel-
dom till late at night, when the distance
does not exceed a dozen miles.

The finer kinds of fruit, such as
peaches, grapes, &c., do not injure so much
by being kept a few days before they are
eaten ; indeed ripe peaches and nectarines
are seldom gathered for sale: they would
spoil too quickly to enable the fruiterer te
OUR KITCHEN-GARDEN. 83

realise much profit. They are plucked
when quite hard, and then placed in boxes
till they gradually soften; but the flavour
of fruit thus treated is very inferior to that
of a peach or nectarine ripened by the sun.
Seed-fruits, such as strawberries, become
very vapid in four or five hours after they
have been picked, if they were then quite
ripe.

I know that the last few pages have
nothing to do with “the money we made”
by our farm, but I wish to show the reader
all the advantages which a country resi-
dence possesses over a town one. Some
persons, who cannot live without excitement,
think that nothing can compensate for the
want of amusement and society.

I was once speaking of the pleasure I
experienced from residing in the country,
and placed health among its many ad-
vantages, when I was answered, “It was
better to die in London than live in the
country !” | .

I think I have said enough to cause my
lady readers to wish that the time may not
be far distant when they may, like: our-
selves—for we did all sorts of ‘“ odd jobs”
84 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

in our garden,—cut their own asparagus,
and assist in gathering their own peas.

It is indeed impossible to over-estimate
the value of a kitchen-garden in a large
family, which numbers many children
among its members.
85

CHAPTER XIII.
THE MONEY WE MADE.

Some time ago we showed our first six
months’ accounts to a friend, who was very
sceptical as to the profit we always told
him we made by our farming. After he
had looked over our figures, he said,—

“Well! and after all, what have you
made by your butter-making, pig-killing,
and fowl-slauglitering?”

“What have we made?” said I, indig-
nantly. “Why, don’t you see that, from
July to January, we realised a profit of
15/. 18s. 4d. from our cows, 2/. 4s. 6d.
from our pigs, 1/. 18s. 6d. from our poultry-
yard, and 9/. at the least from our kitchen-
garden, which, altogether, amounts to no
less a sum than 29/. 1s. 4d.; and all this in
our ‘salad-days, when we were green in
judgment?’ What shall we not make now
that we have more stock, our ground well
cropped, and, better still, have gained so
much experience?”
86 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

“ Well,” said our friend, “the more
‘stock,’ as you call it, you have, the more
money you will lose.”

At this rejoinder, H. looked at the
speaker as if she thought he had “eaten
of the insane root, which takes the reason
prisoner.” .

“ Lose more money! when you can
yourself see, by looking at this book, that
in our first six months we have cleared
291. 1s. 4d.! And, indeed, it was absurd of
A. to put down so little, for she has allowed
51. for the land; and if she take that off
the rent, she ought to enter it as profit from
the ‘farm.’ Besides, think of only putting
down a shilling a-day for fruit and veget-.
ables! Very few puddings would the
children get at that rate, supposing we
were in London.”

“Tf we were in London,” interrupted I,
‘you know that 18/. yearly would be as
much as we could afford to expend for that
item in our family. I have made out all
our farming accounts as fairly as I can. I
am as well aware as you can be that a
shilling a-day would not give us the luxuries
of the garden as we now have them; and '
though that plenty may form one of the
THE MONEY WE MADE. 87

advantages of residing in the country, we
have no right to put down as a saving of
money the value of articles we should
never have thought of purchasing.”

“T must allow,” said Mr. N., “that you
appear to have been strictly honest in your
entries as regards the value of the produce
you have received, but you do not appear
to have put down your losses. You keep
a one-sided ledger. You have the credit,
but not the debit entry. You say nothing
of the money you have lost by pigeons and
rabbit-keeping.”

Now the utmost we had lost by our
pigeons in the six months was 9s., and he
knew perfectly well how profitable they
had since been to us. He used jokingly
to say, that we fed our guests with them in
every mode of cookery so frequently, that
they would alter the old grace of “for
rabbits hot,” &c., and substitute the word
“ pigeon” in its place ; so we thought it was
ungenerous to reproach the poor birds with
the scanty number they gave us the first
few weeks they were in our dove-cote.

Silenced on that point, he returned to
our unfortunate rabbit speculation, and
88 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

coniplained that we had kept no account
of the money we had lost by them.

Here H. stopped him by saying,—

“ Pray, Mr. N., did you not purchase
your children a pony, and did it not catch
cold and die in a month afterwards? I
suppose Mrs. N. did not enter that in her
housekeeper’s book as meat at so much a
pound, and why should we put down the
cost of the rabbits in our farming accounts?
No; of course it was entered among the
‘ sundries.’ ”

“But you must allow,” said Mr. N.,
“that if you had done as I advised you, and
taken a house in a street leading into one
of the squares, you would have lived more
cheaply than here. Why, your gardener’s
wages must more than swallow up any
profit which you may think you make from
your farm. You must acknowledge you
would have saved that expense.”

“Granted,” said I; “but we should
most likely have paid quite as much to a
doctor. We never got through a year in
town without a heavy bill to one; and we
must have had all the expense and trouble
of taking the children out of town during
‘THE MONEY WE MADE. 89

the hot weather, while they have had ex-
cellent health ever since they have been
here ; and with the exception, when some
kind friend like yourself has asked one of
them on a visit, neither of them has left
home since we came here. Of one thing
I am quite sure, that we are much happier
than we should have been in London ; and
that in every point of view, as regards
expenditure, we are gainers. I have not
entered any profit arising from baking at
home, though the difference is just three
four-pound loaves weekly; and Mrs. N.
will tell you what must be the saving by
our having our own laundry.”

“Enough! enough!” said Mr. N.,
laughingly: ‘your evidence is overwhelm-
ing. You almost force me to believe that
I could live in the country, feed my own
pork, and drink my own milk, without
paying half-a-crown a pound for the one
or a shilling a quart for the other, and this
was what I never before believed possible;
and I am quite sure, that if I were to put
the assertion in a book, no one would be-
lieve me.”

“Then,” exclaimed I, “it shall be as-
90 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

serted in a book, whenever I can find time
to transcribe all the particulars from my
diary ; and I hope that I may be able to
convince my readers—should I be fortunate
enough to obtain any—not only that they
‘may keep cows, pigs, and poultry without
loss, but that they may derive health, re-
creation, and profit from doing so. None
know better than yourself how worn-out in
health and spirits we were when we came
to this place; how oppressed with cares
and anxieties. Without occupation, we
should most likely have become habitual
invalids, real or fancied ; without some in-
ducement to be out of doors, we should
seldom have exerted ourselves to take the
exercise necessary to restore us to health
and strength. But you will lose your train,
if keep you longer listening to the benefits
we have experienced by our residence in this
place. Give the fruit and flowers to Mrs.
N. with our love; and tell her, that with
God’s blessing we have improved in ‘ mind,
body, and estate,’ by occupying ourselves
with ‘ Our Farm of Four Acres.’”
91

CHAPTER XIV.
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS.

Tr was not my intention when I commenced
this little work to do more than give our
first six months’ experience in farming our
four acres of land; but as perhaps the
reader may think that time hardly suf-
ficient to form a correct opinion of the ad-
vantages to be derived from a residence
in the country, I think it as well to add
some particulars relating to the following
six months.

In the spring came a new source of
profit and amusement. We commenced
our labours in the poultry-yard in Fe-
bruary, by setting a hen on thirteen eggs,
which, early in March, produced the same
number of chickens: these were all ready
for the table in the middle of May. At
that time we could not have purchased
them under 6s. the couple.

The cost of thirty-eight chickens till
92 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

ready to kill was 17s. 6d. We always
exactly knew the expense attending the
poultry, because we had a separate book
from the miller, in which every article was
entered as it came into the house; and as
the chickens were kept distinct from the
other fowls, I could tell the exact sum
they had cost us when they made their
appearance at table.

The first thing that was given them to
eat was egg, boiled quite hard, chopped
very fine, and mixed with bread-crumbs.
After that they had groats. I find they
consumed :

 

s. d.

Three quarts of whole groats . 1 6
Two bushels of barley . ; - 9 0
One bushel of middlings . 4 6
Twenty-five lbs. of chicken-rice . 2 6
Making altogether. - 7 6

The reader must be told that those
thirty-eight chickens had other things to
eat than those I have put down; they had
nearly all the scraps from the house, con-
sisting of cold potatoes, bits of meat, pud-
ding, &c., and any pieces of bread wnich
were left at table were soaked in skim-
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 93°

milk; and the rice was also boiled in it.
Of course, in a smaller family there would
not have been somany “scraps” for them;
but, however strict you may be with child-
ren, you cannot prevent their leaving rem-
nants on their plates, all of which would
have been wasted had it not been for the
chickens and pig-tub.

We were not so fortunate with the
ducks. We did not keep any through the
winter, consequently we had to purchase
the eggs, which were placed under hens ;
for those eggs we paid 2d. each, and out of
thirteen, which was the number given to
each hen, we never reared more than eight
ducks.

Thus, in the first instance, they cost us
3d. each; and they were likewise more
expensive to feed than the chickens. They
were never fit for the table till they had
cost us 2s. 6d. the couple. One reason of
this was, that as the chickens had all the
waste bits, they had nothing but what was
bought for them; but then they were such
ducks as could not have been purchased at
the poulterers’.

We never killed one unless it weighed
94 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

four pounds; they used to be brought in
at night, and placed in the scale: if it was
the weight I have mentioned it was killed,
if not it was respited till it did so.

At first we tried cooping them to fatten,
but found it did not answer, as they moped
and refused to eat by themselves; so we
abandoned that plan, and were content to
let them run in the meadows till fit to kill,
which was not till they were three months
old. They were never “ fat,” but very
meaty, and fine flavoured,—not in the least
like those which are bought, which, how-
ever fat they may appear before they are
cooked, come to table half the size they
were when put down to the fire.

I remember being rather puzzled once
when resident in London. I wanted a par-
ticularly fine couple of ducks for a “ com-
pany dinner,” and went myself to the shop
where I dealt to order them.

“ Now, Mrs. Todd,” said I, “ the ducks.
I require are not fat ducks, but meaty ones ;
the last I had from you had nothing on
them when they came to table, though they
looked so plump when you sent them.”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” was the rejoinder.
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 95

“T know just what you want ; but they are
very difficult to get: you want running
ducks.”

I was obliged to ask what she meant by
the term running, and was then informed
that the ducks for the London market were
put up to fatten, and as they were crammed
to hasten the process, the fat all went into
the dripping-pan. Now a running duck
was one well fed, and allowed to roam or
run till it was killed. I am now able from
experience to say, that they are incom-
parably superior to their fattened brethren.

The novice in poultry-rearing must be
told that it is almost useless to set a hen in
very hot weather. As we had more eggs
than were required, we did so during part
of June, July, and. August, but had very
bad fortune with them;' the hen seldom
hatching more than three or four, and
those puny little creatures.

There is an old Kentish proverb which
says,

“ Between the sickle and the scythe,
Whatever’s born will never thrive ;”

and as it was just between the hay and corn-
harvest that we tried to rear our ducks and
96 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

chickens, I am induced to believe that, like
many other old saws, it was founded on
experience. They may be reared in Sep-
tember, though they require great care,
and must not be allowed to run on the
grass, which at that season is seldom dry.

A friend once told me she reared a brood
of seventeen chickens, which were hatched
the last week in September; they were
placed in an empty greenhouse, and were
consequently kept warm and dry. March
is the month for poultry ; the hatches are
better, and they grow much more rapidly
than at any other time.

I am quite sure that a poultry-yard
may be made very profitable to any one
who will bestow a little trouble on it.
Great care must be taken with the young
chickens at night; the hen should be se-
curely cooped with them : for want of this
precaution we in one night lost eight, when
they were a few days old, being, as we
supposed, carried off by the cats.

The best food for ducks when first
hatched is bread and milk; in a few days
barley-meal, wetted with water into balls
about as big as peas, should be given to
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 97

them. It is usual, as soon as both ducks
and chickens come out of the shell, to put
a pepper-corn down their throats. I don’t
know that it is really of service to them,
but it is a time-honoured custom, and so
perhaps it is as well to follow it.

As for our butter-making, it continued
to prosper ; we had some little trouble with
it in the spring, when the weather set in
suddenly very hot. It was certainly much
more difficult to reduce the temperature of
the cream to 55° than it was to raise it to
that degree.

I often thought with vain longing of the
shop in the Strand, where we used to pur-
chase Wenham Lake Ice: how firm would
the butter have come, could we have had
afew lumps to put in the churn half an
hour before we required to use it!

Farmers’ wives tell us, that to get firm
- butter in very hot weather they get up at
three o’clock in the morning, in order that
it may be made before the sun becomes
powerful. Now this is a thing that would
not have suited H. or myself at all, and
therefore we never mustered up courage
to attempt it.

H
98 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

One day in March—and this is the last
disaster I have to record concerning our
butter—we were particularly anxious to
have it good, as we expected visitors, to
whom we had frequently boasted of our
skill as dairywomen: the day was very
warm, and the cream appeared much
thicker than usual; we churned for more
than an hour without its appearing to un-
dergo any change ; we frequently removed
the lid to see if there was any sign of
butter coming, but each time we were dis-
heartened when we discoveréd it looked
just the same as when placed in the churn.
At last the handle went round so easily as
if no cream were in it, and presently it
began to run over the top of the churn.
When we looked in a curious sight pre-
sented itself: the cream had risen to the
top, just as milk does when it boils!
We were greatly astonished. In nine
months’ butter-making we had seen nothing
like it.

Tom, who milked the cows, was sup-
posed to know something of the art of
churning ; he was, therefore, called into the
dairy : as soon as he saw the state of the
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 99

matter he exclaimed, ‘“ Why, the cream’s
gone to sleep !”

“ The cream gone to sleep!” What in
the world could that mean? Such a pro-
pensity we had never discovered in cream
before; we could gain no solution of the
mystery from Tom ; all he said was, that we
must go on churning till it “ waked up.”

H. and myself had been hard at work
for two hours, so willingly yielded to his
request that he might be allowed to rouse
the cream from its slumber. He, the cook,
and housemaid, churned away by turns till
seven in the evening, but the sleep of the
cream remained unbroken, and as it was
then considered a hopeless affair, the sloth-
ful fluid was consigned to the pig-tub.

Now we have never felt quite sure of
our butter since. Every time we churn
there is a lurking fear that the cream may
choose to take a nap; however, it is as yet
the first and last time in our experience.

I can give no advice to my readers on
the subject, because I am wholly ignorant
on the subject, though I have consulted
every farmer’s wife in the neighbourhood
on the matter. They all say that cream
100 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

will go to sleep sometimes, though it usually
wakes up after a few hours.* Perhaps,
after all, we were too impatient, and should
not have given in after only nine hours’
churning. With this solitary exception our
butter-making progressed as favourably as
we could desire.

I do not quite know how to believe the
stories I am told of wonderful cows which
my friends are fortunate enough to possess.
One gentleman has informed me that he
has one which gives fifteen pounds of but-
ter weekly. Now we have had several,
but never made more on the average than
eight pounds per week. I believe that a
great deal depends on the manner in which
they are milked, and once in the hands of
a beginner in that art the cows decreased

‘in milk so rapidly that we did not get more
than a gallon daily from both animals;
after they had been three weeks under his
management we changed the milker, but
did not get anything like the proper quan-
tity again till after they had calved.

* I have since been told by an old woman con-

versant with sleepy cream, that a quart of water nearly
boiling hot will wake it up.
‘THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 101

I believe the usual average is one pound
of butter from every ten quarts of milk.
Ours used to give us thirteen or fourteen
quarts each daily, and yet we never made
more than eight pounds. We used about
two quarts of new milk, so that if ten quarts
will give a pound of butter, we did not get
so much as we ought. Still we were very
well satisfied with the produce we received.

There requires management with two
cows, in order that one may always be in
full milk when the other calves. If you
rear a calf for the butcher, it will require
the whole of the milk for six or seven
weeks, which is about the age they are
killed for fine veal. We once—it was in
the winter—received five guineas for one.
With two cows this may usually be done,
and it is more profitable than making
butter. Where only one is kept, it is better
to part with the calf when a few days old,
and then the price is 1/..

If a lady wishes her dairy to be very
nicely furnished, she should have all the
articles she requires of glass, instead of
wood and earthenware. Everything for
the dairy of that material can be purchased
102 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

in Leicester Square, and certainly, if ex-
pense had been no object to us, we should
much have preferred a glass churn, pans,
&c. They have the great advantage of
’ being kept beautifully clean with very little
labour; but they are so liable to be bro-
ken, that they should never be used unless
servants are very careful. A marble table
is, however, in every respect better than a
board to make the butter upon. It is expen-
sive at first, but will, with ordinary care,
last several generations of butter-makers.

Whilst on the subject of the dairy, I
must say a few words respecting the great
care required in washing the articles used
in it. As soon as the butter was taken
from the churn I was in the habit of half
filling it with boiling water, into which I
had put some lumps of soda, and then
turned the handle a few times, in order
that it might be well washed round. It
was then left till it was convenient for
‘“‘cook” to cleanse all the utensils we had
used.

From some cause or other I neglected for
two or three weeks to do this, and one day,
when the fresh-made butter was brought to
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 103

table, there were complaints that it was
cheesy; it certainly had a peculiar and
very unpleasant taste, for which we could
not account.

The next time it was made it had the
same fault; and it then occurred to me
that it might be the churn. I accordingly
returned to my old mode of washing it, and
never after was there a complaint of any
unpleasant flavour in the butter.

I mention this to show the amateur
dairywoman ‘how very essential is cleanli-
ness in every article she uses. A regular
dairymaid would have known this, but a
town-servant thinks that if she washes a
thing it is sufficient: but more than mere
washing is required ; every article must be
scrubbed with soap, wood-ashes, and soda,
and then placed for hours in the open air.

Now glass is much easier kept sweet
and clean, and for that reason is greatly to
be preferred; but I am writing for those
who may wish to reap profit from their
“farm of four acres,’ and I fear little
would be gained if nothing but glass were
used in the dairy.

Our land turned out better the second
104 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

summer than the first. We made nearly
two tons and a half of hay from each acre.
We were enabled to mow the whole three
acres, as we had “common rights” in our
neighbourhood, where the cows could pas-
ture during the spring. Had we been °
without this privilege we could only have
mown two acres, and as hay was four
guineas the load, the additional acre was
worth 10/. to us, with the exception of 15s.
for making it. We were advised to have
an after-crop, but did not; it would have
made the land very poor for the next year,
so that what we gained in hay we must
have expended in manure. }

We were well satisfied with the profit
we derived from our pigs dictnpankie Marnik
six months. All the summer we kept four,
at an expense of 2s. 4d. weekly, which was
expended for two bushels of fine pollard.

We had such an abundance of veget-
ables from the garden and orchard, that we
must have wasted cart-loads, if we had not
kept pigs to consume them. As soon as
the hay was carried they were turned into
the meadows, and suffered to remain there
till they were put up to fatten; a process
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 105

which pigs must go through, though ducks
can dispense with it. I have already stated
the expense of fattening them, and we never
found it vary more than a shilling or two
in a, pig.

We always found for our family that
a bacon pig of sixteen stone was the best
size, and for porkers about eight.

Our fruit was as plentiful as our veget-
ables, indeed we might have sold the sur-
plus for some pounds; but we soon found
that fo do so was to lose cas¢e in the neigh-
bourhood. One piece of extravagance we
were guilty of the first winter and spring -
we passed at.A. The gardener had a little
fire & the grapery during the severe
weathigr, because he had placed some plants
in it. We were told we could continue it
till the grapes ripened for a “ mere nothing.”
Now “mere nothings” mount up to a “ con-
siderable something.” The coal and coke
consumed before they were ripe cost 4i.
It is true we had them in July instead of
September, but we should have liked them
quite as well in that month.

It was a bad grape year, too; at least
with us. I don’t think we cut more than
106 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

twenty pounds weight. Hot-house grapes
are not dear at 4s. the pound; but we
should have had them equally good by
waiting: two months later, when they would
have cost us nothing.

Had we purchased the produce we re-
ceived from our garden during the year,
it would have been worth two guineas
weekly. Our peaches, apricots, and nec-
tarines, were abundant, and very fine. We
had two splendid walnut-trees, and a mul-
berry-tree of immense size, which was an
object of special abhorrence to “ nurse,”
as for more than two months in the sum-
mer the children’s frocks, pinners, &c.
were dyed with the juice of the fruit. They
could hardly pass near it in the season
without some of the ripe berries falling on
their heads, and it was hardly possible to
prevent them escaping from her to pick
them up. Mulberry-pudding made its ap-
pearance often on the nursery-table, and
jars of mulberry-jam were provided to se-
cure the same dainty through the winter.

The luxury of a good garden can hardly
be appreciated till you have been in pos-
session of one, more especially where there
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 107

are many children. The way we used to
preserve currants, gooseberries, plums,
damsons, and, indeed, almost every descrip-
tion of fruit, was this:—The wide-mouth
bottles which are sold for the purpose were
filled with fruit, six ounces of powdered
loaf-sugar was shaken in amongst it; the
bottles were then tied down as closely as
possible with bladder, and placed up to the
neck in a copper, or large saucepan, of
cold water, which was allowed to come
slowly to the boil. They remained in it
till the water was quite cold, when they
were taken from the water and wiped quite
dry. Before placing them in the store-
room the bottle was turned upside down,
in order to see that they were perfectly
air-tight, for on this depends their keeping
good. The fruit will sink down to about
the middle of the bottle ; and we once tried
to fill them up with some fruit from an-
other, but opening them admitted the air,
and they did not keep well. If properly
done, they will be good at the end of a
year.

If any lady undertake the manage-
ment of a four-acre farm, she must expect
108 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

it to occupy a great deal of her time; if
she leave it to servants, however honest,
she will lose by it. It is not that things
are stolen, but that they are wasted, unless
the mistress herself know what quantities
of barley, oats, &c., her poultry and pigs
consume; and unless she look daily into
her dairy and see that the milk is well
skimmed, half the cream will be thrown
into the wash-tub.

_ A six-months’ longer experience of the
country only confirmed my sister and my-
self in the conviction that we had in every
way made a most desirable change when
we quitted London for our small farm ; but
if we had been too fine or too indolent to
look after our dairy and poultry-yard, I
believe that our milk, butter, eggs, poultry,
and pork, would have cost us as much as
we could have purchased them for in town.

All the good things we were daily con-
suming in the country would have come
to us in London,

“ Like angels’ visits, few and far between.”

I know that many of our old friends
were really shocked when we told them,
THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. 109

laughingly, of our new pursuits, and that
the butter they so much praised, and the
apricot-cheese they ate with so much gusto,
_were manufactured by our own hands.
We were “ poor-thinged” to our faces in a
very pitying manner, but we always laughed
at these compassionate people, and en-
deavoured to convince them we spoke the
truth in sober earnest, when we assured
them we found great amusement in our
new pursuits. They shook their heads and
sighed in such a manner, that we knew
perfectly well that, as soon as we were out
of ear-shot, they would say, “ Poor things !
it is very sad, but they are quite right to
try and make the best of it.” TI believe
some of them thought that it was impossible
we could have “souls above butter ;” for
a lady who called one day, taking up one
of Mudie’s volumes from the table, said,—

“Ts it possible you care to subscribe to
Mudie’s ?”

“ And why should we not care to do
so ?” replied H.

“Why,” was the answer, “I do not see
any connexion between a love of reading
and a love of butter-making.”
110 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

Now I do not think that either of us
had any love of butter-making ; and if we
could have afforded to give 20/. a-year to
a dairymaid, no doubt we should have left
all to her management; but as it was we
were obliged to buy it—and very bad it
was in our town—or make it ourselves:
nor do either my sister or myself regret our
resolution to do so.

At first we were quite proud of our
skill, and told every one of our success
with great triumph. Now—for woman-
hood is weak— we are content to hear our
dairymaid praised for her beautiful butter
by our acquaintance, and Tom extolled for
his care of the chickens. It is only our
friends, amongst whom I reckon my readers,
who know that the butter is made, and the
chickens fed, by the mistresses of “ the
Four-Acre Farm.”
111

CHAPTER XV.

CONCLUSION.
Ir is with considerable diffidence the writer
ventures to give the public this slight sketch
of her experience in farming four acres of
land.

When she finally resolved to fix her
residence in the country, she was wholly
ignorant how she ought to manage, so that
the small quantity of land she rented might,
if not a source of profit, be at least no loss.

She was told by a friend, who for a
short time had tried “a little place” at
Chiselhurst, that it was very possible to
lose a considerable sum yearly by under-
taking to farm a very small quantity of
land. “Be quite sure,” said the friendly
adviser —“‘ and remember, I speak from ex-
perience—that whatever animals you may
keep, the expense attending them will be
treble the value of the produce you receive.
Your cows will die, or, for want of being
112 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

properly looked after, will soon cease to
give any milk; that your pigs will cost
you more for food than would buy the
pork four times over; your chickens and
ducks will stray away, or be stolen; your
garden produce will, if worth anything,
find its way to Covent Garden ; and each
quarter your bills from the seedsman and
miller will amount to as much as would
supply you with meat, bread, milk, butter,
eggs, and poultry, in London.”

Certainly this was rather a black state
of things to look forward to; but the con-
viction was formed, after mature reflection,
that a residence some miles from town was
the one best suited to the writer’s family.
She was compelled to acknowledge to those
friends, who advised her to the contrary,
her ignorance on most things appertaining
to the mode of life she proposed to com-
mence, but trusted to that often-talked-of
commodity, common sense, to prevent her
being ruined by farming four acres of land.

She thought, if she could not herself dis-
cover how to manage, she might acquire
the requisite knowledge from some of the
little books she had purchased on subjects
CONCLUSION. 113

connected with “rural economy.” They
proved, however, quite useless. They ap-
peared to the writer to be merely com-
pilations from larger works; and like the
actors in the barn, who played the tragedy
of “ Hamlet,” and omitted the character of
the hero, so did these books leave out the
very things which from the title-pages the
purchaser expected to find in them.

Some time after experience had shown
how butter could be made successfully, a
lady, who had been for years resident in
’ the country, said, during a morning call,
_ “My dairymaid is gone away ill, and the
cook makes the butter; but it is so bad we
cannot eat it: and besides that nuisance,
she has this morning given me notice to
leave. She says she did not ‘ engage’ to
‘mess’ about in the dairy.”

“Well,” said the writer, “why not
- make the butter yourself, till you can suit
yourself with a new servant ?”

“T have tried,” said the visitor, “ but
cannot do it. My husband is very par-
ticular about the butter being good, so I
was determined to see if I could not have
some that he could eat; therefore I pored

I

~
114 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

over Mrs. Rundle, and other books, for a
whole day, but could not find how to begin.
None of them told me how to make the
butter, though several gave directions for
potting it down when it was made. I
made the boy churn for more than three
hours yesterday morning, but got no butter
after all. J¢ would not come.”

The weather was very cold, and it oc-
curred. to the listener to ask the lady where
the boy churned, and where the cream had
been kept during the previous night.

“Why, in the dairy, to be sure,” was
the answer; “and my feet became so chilled
by standing there, that I can hardly put
them to the ground since. Cook could not
succeed more than I did, and said, the last
time she made it it was between four and
five hours before the butter came; and
then, as I have told you, it was not eat-
able.”

The writer explained to her friend that
the reason why she could not get the butter,
as well as why cook’s was so bad, was
on account of the low temperature of the
cream when it was put into the churn.
She then gave her plain directions how to
CONCLUSION. 115

proceed for the future, and was ‘gratified
by receiving a note from her friend in a
couple of days, containing her thanks for
the “ very plain directions ;” and adding,
“T could not have thought it was so little
trouble to procure good butter, and shall
for the future be independent of a saucy
dairymaid.”

I believe that a really clever servant
will never give any one particulars respect-
ing her work. She wraps them up in an
impenetrable mystery. Like the farmers’
wives, who, to our queries, gave no other
auswer than, “ Why, that depends;” they
take care that no person shall be any the
wiser for any questions that may be put to
them.

The reader may safely follow the direc-
tions given in these pages; not one has
heen inserted that has not been tested by
the writer. To those who are already con-
versant with bread-making, churning, &c.,
they may appear needlessly minute; but
we hope the ngvice may, with very little
trouble, become mistress of the subjects to
which they refer.

Even if a lady does keep a sufficient
116 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

number of servants to perform every do-:
mestic duty efficiently, still it may prove
useful to be able to give instructions to
one who may, from some accidental cir-
cumstance, be called on to undertake a
work to which she has been unaccus-
tomed.

A friend of the writer, a lady of large
fortune, and mistress of a very handsome
establishment, said, when speaking of her
dairy, “ My neighbourhood has the cha-
racter of making very bad butter; mine is
invariably good ; and I always get a penny
a pound more for it at the ‘shop’ than
my neighbours. If I have occasion to
change the dairymaid, and the new one
sends me up bad butter, I tell her of it.
If it occurs the second time, I make no
more complaints; I go down the next
butter-day, and make it entirely myself,
having her at my side the whole time. I
never find I have to complain again. She
sees how it is made, and she is compelled
to own it is good. I believe that a ser-
vant who is worth keeping will follow
any directions, and take any amount of
trouble, rather than see ‘missus’ a second
CONCLUSION. 117

‘time enter the kitchen or dairy to do
her work.”

Perhaps the allusion this lady made to
the “shop,” may puzzle the London reader,
but in country places, where more butter
is made in a gentleman’s family than is re-
quired for the consumption of the house-
hold, it is sent to—-what is frequently
—the “shop” of the place, and sold for
a penny per pound less than the price for
which it is retailed by the shopkeeper.
The value of the butter is set off against
tea, sugar, cheese, and various other ar-
ticles required in the family in which the
butter is made.

When the writer purchased a_ third
cow, it was in anticipation of sending any
surplus butter to “shop,” and receiving
groceries in exchange, nor has she been
- disappointed.

Every month’s additional experience
strengthens her conviction of the advan-
tages to be derived from living in the
country ; and she takes farewell of her
readers, in the hope that she has succeeded
in convincing them that a “farm of four
acres” may be inade a source of health,
118 OUR FARM OF FOUR ACRES.

profit, and amusement, though many of
their “town” friends, may threaten them
with ruin, should they be rash enough to
disregard their advice, to take a house in a
“nice quiet street” leading into one of the
squares.

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