AFarmefs 
 
 Note Book 
 
 C. E.D.Phelps 
 
Gass ^ cS /! / 
 Book _L_51_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
^.12), (PUf^ 
 
A FARMER'S 
 NOTE BOOK 
 
 :^i^A' 
 
 PHELPS 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 BOSTON 
 
Copyright, 1912, by C. E. D. Phelps 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A., 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
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 €iC!.A314876 
 
A Farmer's Note Book 
 
 January i. New Year's day ends the gun- 
 ning season. Noisy Sagittarius and bounc- 
 ing Capricornus are swept away by the wash 
 from Aquarius' urn. The first snow-fall, 
 however long deferred, is generally unwel- 
 come to the farmer. No matter how neatly 
 everything may have been packed and 
 stowed, the mind goes afield for tools for- 
 gotten on some neighbor's place, or jobs that 
 might have been completed had open weath- 
 er lasted longer. We look at the thermom- 
 eter, hoping it will rise a few degrees, we 
 scan the flakes, desiring their change to rain- 
 drops. The comfortable old leather boots 
 that have served so long will do no more, and 
 rubbers must be worn all day long. Nothing 
 else will keep out melting slush beyond an 
 hour or two; nothing at least that I have 
 ever tried. My grandfather was wont to 
 recommend boiling one's boots in grease. 
 This, he said would fix 'em, but he added 
 that it did spoil one's socks for a week or 
 two. Gaiters, so affected by the traditional 
 English yeoman, will not serve for long; the 
 snow gets into the shoes, and there melts at 
 leisure. On the whole, an agriculturist may 
 better accustom himself, as soon as may be, 
 to the condition of Tytler's farmer. "Get 
 us some supper, can't 'ee, lass?" he roared. 
 "I'm half starved, and wet up to the knees 
 like all day." 
 
 5 
 
6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 January 2, Climbed old maple, and 
 sawed out what was once the principal leader 
 — now a weak diverging limb. Of the thou- 
 sands who have ascended trees for safety, 
 sport, or espial, how many make a figure in 
 history or fiction? Zaccheus, Charles II, 
 Robinson Crusoe, Countess of Desmond — 
 are there any more? Yet it compares favor- 
 ably with many exploited athletics. 
 
 No owner of land can be considered thor- 
 oughly acquainted with it until he has 
 climbed the principal trees upon it. A sur- 
 prising difference is made by changing the 
 angle of view from acute to obtuse. The 
 cornfield that will bear being looked down 
 on is a good one. Of course, other things 
 being equal, the higher one ascends, the bet- 
 ter; but much pleasure may be had at the 
 modest altitude of 12 to 20 feet. 
 
 Climbing irons, such as telegraph linemen 
 use, and as were once employed by Tom 
 Brown and East to rob the magpie's nest, 
 are not trustworthy in green wood. A flake 
 of bark into which the spur has been driven, 
 may peel off as soon as weight is thrown on 
 it, while a sudden slip into a crotch, both 
 feet together, risks an ugly wound. A stout 
 bit of rope, 12 feet or so, with a loop at one 
 end, may be thrown over a limb from the 
 ground, noosed and ascended. Many a tree, 
 hopeless at bottom, is an easy ladder after 
 the first ten feet. 
 
 Great differences exist in the strength of 
 trees. As a rule, those with strong bark, as 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 7 
 
 lime, birch, and willow, have weak wood, 
 and vice versa. The cherry is the most 
 treacherous of all, a fair looking branch 
 sometimes crushing in the hand like an egg- 
 shell; the pin oak the strongest, even its dead 
 twigs being tough as wire. I have known 
 one of these, not thicker than a lead pencil, 
 to bear a man's weight. Winter tree mount- 
 ing is on some accounts preferable, especially 
 if one seeks a view, for few are the trees in 
 leaf where a good outlook can be had. But 
 in summer one enters into the very heart of 
 the tree, and lives almost detached from 
 earth. The most hospitable hosts of this 
 kind are those, which have, so to speak, suf- 
 fered a disappointment in early youth, and 
 lost their leading shoot. This causes them 
 to throw out many side branches, which ulti- 
 mately form a huge basket, where one may 
 repose, and even sleep. 
 
 January j. A neighbor asked this morn- 
 ing ''Any more news of the trolley?" and re- 
 newed dolor. In "Old Mortality", Claver- 
 house is represented as pausing in his dis- 
 course with Milnwood to look up Cuddie 
 Headrigg's name in a list of the disaffected. 
 "Let me see — 'Gumblegumption, indulged, 
 sly, suspicions — Heathercat, field preacher, 
 fanatical, dangerous. Ah, I have it now — 
 Headrigg, Cuthbert, his mother a bitter pur- 
 itan, himself a simple fellow, — might be 
 made something of but for his attachment to 
 — '. He paused, and glancing at Milnwood 
 
8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 returned the paper to his pocket." 
 
 I doubt the railroad agents and surveyors 
 may go provided with something equivalent 
 to this, describing those whose lands they 
 seek. E. G. "A Poor and old; will yield 
 readily. B. wealthy; approach with tact, or 
 may put up stiff fight. C. likely to bluster, 
 but will weaken if threatened with law. D. 
 easily talked over; unreliable. E. An easy 
 mark; believes all you tell him, but will stand 
 to his word." Equipped with such a manual 
 much can be done by a ready talker. I re- 
 member one worthy assuring a neighbor 
 "You'll never take another crop off this 
 ground," and three seasons with their cor- 
 responding crops, have since gone by. 
 
 January 4. Looking at a white birch stick 
 in the fire to-night, I was struck by the like- 
 ness in the effect of fire and water. A line of 
 flame crept slowly across the smooth white 
 bark driving up a little wrinkle before it, like 
 one of the lines left on sea sand by the re- 
 turning waves. Great is the indestructibility 
 of logs. I sometimes recognize on the fire a 
 stick which I cut a week, a month, or even a 
 year before. 
 
 The approach of sleep is much like the 
 freezing of water in pond or bowl. Faint 
 spiculae dart from the sides, motes and dots, 
 barely perceptible, swim in the midst. One 
 might imagine the process not less grateful 
 to the long unsheltered mere than to the 
 merely longing brain; for as the one desires, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 9 
 
 for the time being, to be defended from that 
 thought which is its own component essence, 
 so might the other seek a coat proof against 
 the plunge of an icicle, formed of a like ele- 
 ment. Slight agitation applied with judg- 
 ment, will help the matter on. The introduc- 
 tion of a finger will sometimes change a bowl 
 of congealing water to a solid mass; a bit of 
 ice slid in at the proper moment, will help on 
 the water's freezing, and so will thinking on 
 your latest dream help to induce slumber. 
 Transparent and cold as are ice and sleep, 
 nothing will keep brain and water safer and 
 warmer; all glances from them, and naught 
 stirs up mud or mood. The parallel holds 
 to the last; for nothing can more resemble 
 the rude awakening of a slumberer than the 
 sudden breaking of ice, and nothing is more 
 like a gradual and pleasant wakening than 
 the melting thaw where beginning and end 
 are alike indiscernable. 
 
 January 5. Turning cold again after rain. 
 Several years ago, when a long period of 
 damp weather was succeeded by a sharp 
 night, in walking through a wood road, I 
 observed here and there among the russet 
 leaves a white tulip or lily of ice. The crys- 
 tals, rising from the steaming ground, had 
 been pressed by the stiffening leaves into 
 curves and convolutions resembling petals. 
 
 Frost and drought are not unlike in their 
 results, or at least their effects. A winter 
 meadow, bare of snow, but frozen hard, is 
 
lo A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 not very dissimilar to the same meadow dur- 
 ing a dry spell after haying. Color is gone, 
 growth is short, stones show like land turtles, 
 the soil is impenetrable, the wheel of nature 
 is on a dead point. Only the hedgerows, in 
 either case, retain some life and color. You 
 look at the foot hole pits in the ground, 
 made when you rode that way last fall or 
 spring, as the case may be, and wonder that 
 the ground would ever have been soft 
 enough to receive such impressions, while 
 that pools of water could ever have stood up- 
 on it seems impossible. The earth, like the 
 face of a frightened cowboy, is pale to the 
 obliteration of its natural tan; and, again like 
 the cowboy, this only departs when he draws 
 rein at home. Then it is good to see, even in 
 winter, how the tints hasten back, and brown 
 skin and stubby beard assume their natural 
 hues; for even in winter there is color, when- 
 ever a spell of mild moisture comes. 
 
 January 6. Someone has said that a farm- 
 er can often tell trees apart by their winter 
 aspect, when he works most among them, 
 who would be puzzled by their leaves, at a 
 time when he is busied in the fields. I some- 
 what doubt this; yet if all men wore thick 
 muffling garments of green, even if different- 
 ly tagged and fringed, for half the year, 
 would it not be easier to distinguish African, 
 Hindoo and Caucasian when stripped? 
 
 Most trees — all the fruit trees — blossom 
 early in spring. Oak, maple, elm, birch, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK ii 
 
 beech, this last very modestly, — hickory, 
 gum. The lime and plane come later. The 
 tulip tree excels both in magnitude of trunk 
 and blossom. I have in mind a fine specimen 
 twelve feet in circumference, eighty feet high 
 and covered every year in early June with 
 great yellow-green cups. Had they the color 
 of quince or apple, such a tree would be one 
 of the most splendid objects in Nature. 
 
 Early in July come the chestnuts, when 
 their pretty golden bloom may be distin- 
 guished a mile away bursting from among 
 the dark green woods, as though some gigan- 
 tic Gambrinus held up his well loved goblet 
 from the shades. This, I think, is the last 
 tree to bloom, for that uncanny shrub, the 
 witch-hazel, hardly counts. Acorn and 
 chestnut come nearly together in ripening, 
 and are not unlike in size, but the former has 
 much the longer preparation for its fall — 
 perhaps because its burr, as Thoreau found, 
 is inside. 
 
 January 7. Cutting bushes after storm. 
 Noticed how persistent are the effects of the 
 great ice blizzard of February 21, 1902; 
 nearlythree years have passed, but the traces 
 can be seen on every hand, and are like to be 
 seen for twenty years. Most of the isolated 
 chestnuts lost a limb then, some nearly all, a 
 few branches yet dangle and swing by a 
 strand of fibres, and a throng of new sprouts 
 push from their stubs. In one place where 
 two heavy oak trees had fallen on young 
 
12 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 saplings, the latter, bent almost to the earth, 
 were still alive and calling for help, which 
 Nature could only bring by the decay of the 
 superincumbent weight. I pulled one or two 
 out, but like long time prisoners, they had 
 lost their spirit and straightened up but little. 
 One sweet gum, liquid amber or bilsted, thus 
 bent down had lost on its trunk the corking 
 ridges which feature that tree. Eccentrici- 
 ties are not developed under heavy strain. 
 
 Twenty years ago, nearly, we cut down a 
 dead pine which fell on a young white oak, 
 and bent it over. The weight was soon re- 
 moved, but the oak did not straighten. It 
 was then about thirty feet high, and the top 
 of its arch some seven feet from the ground. 
 Every year since it has braced up a little, and 
 now rises at an angle of about 60" sprouts 
 rising from the upper side, a rod or so of its 
 top rotted off. Alas, it stands in the trolley's 
 patli, and another year will probably end my 
 observations. 
 
 January 8. Have often wondered why 
 tramps should ask for things which they 
 throw away as soon as unobserved. Yet how 
 often do we seek bread or shoes for our 
 souls, and then, on leaving the presence, cast 
 them behind the next hedge. 
 
 Trollope says it is a dangerous mental 
 practice to imagine ourselves better than we 
 are. And Meredith says it is an even more 
 dangerous mental practice to imagine our- 
 selves worse than we are. The fact that we 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 13 
 
 compare ourselves with others in the first in- 
 stance and not in the second, may have some- 
 thing to do with it. The danger might be 
 done away if, under the circumstances, im- 
 agined by Trollope, we endeavored to carry 
 our ideal into execution, and amid those set 
 forth by Meredith, to keep our figment pure- 
 ly speculative. But perhaps a worse habit 
 than either is that of being sorry for our- 
 selves. We may be, and generally are, rigid 
 toward others up to — or down to, a certain 
 point; we blame them severely for ignorance 
 awkwardness, cowardice, and the like, until 
 we discern, or are told, that they are natur- 
 ally deficient in mind, when all strictures 
 cease. But when we are sorry for ourselves, 
 we cease to blame ourselves; when we cease 
 to blame and begin to think that we should 
 not be held to the same standards as others, 
 self-control is gone, and from that time our 
 progress is on a steep down grade. 
 
 January g. Obstinacy of inanimate ob- 
 jects. A wheel mounts a stone, and then 
 slips off to one side, without the onward im- 
 petus descent would have given; you cut 
 down a dead weed, and the stem sticks in the 
 ground, and has to be plucked away by hand 
 before the spot is cleared. "When you fight 
 with a Russian", said Frederick the Great, 
 "you have to kill him first and knock him 
 down afterwards". 
 
 Of active courage, pugnacity and energy 
 will make a very fair imitation; of the pas- 
 
14 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 sive sort, mere sluggishness of mind will 
 serve. For it can hardly be doubted that 
 many a man who has gained credit for cool- 
 ness in time of sudden danger did so because 
 he did not think quickly enough to be fright- 
 ened; by the time he realized the peril, it was 
 past. Whereas the nervous, highly strung 
 individual, taking in the danger as readily as 
 everything else, fled before it, mentally, even 
 more rapidly than the foe advanced, in a 
 manner not to be overlooked or mistaken. 
 Goethe's "seeing red" during his attack of 
 cannon fever at Valmy was most likely a 
 provision of nature for enabling him to dis- 
 play reckless courage, much in the same way 
 as a tendency to corpulence will — for a time 
 — enable a gourmand to avoid the horrors 
 of dyspepsia. By the way. Creasy, in com- 
 menting on this episode, says Goethe was 
 then In early youth; the fact being that he 
 was well turned of forty. 
 
 January lo. I have once or twice alluded 
 to the ice storm of 1902. During a freezing 
 rain many years before, a small native hen 
 who persisted in roosting on a bush out of 
 doors, instead of sharing the hen-house with 
 the Bramas, was covered with what Dante 
 calls a "vislere dl cristallo", very closely 
 moulded to its contour, but not quite touch- 
 ing eye and nostril, though attached to comb 
 and beak, yet when relieved of her armor, 
 she did not seem a bit the worse. 
 
 The wondrously intricate defensive arm^ 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 15 
 
 or of the Middle Ages contrasts strongly 
 with their simple and rudimentary weapons. 
 Skill and ingenuity were taxed to the utmost 
 to form an outer artificial skeleton, so to 
 speak, only of steel instead of bone, fitted, 
 clasped and jointed in a manner comparing 
 not ill with Nature's own handiwork, shoes 
 and gauntlets which would keep out anything 
 but water, helmets which were a perfect de- 
 fense if the wearer could but breathe in 
 them. And while all this was achieved, not 
 even excluding a considerable degree of dig- 
 nity and grace, sword and spear, arrow and 
 sling remained almost unchanged from Ju- 
 lius Caesar down to Coeur de Lion. The 
 great superiority of the English bowmen, of 
 which so much has been said, consisted chief- 
 ly in the general excess of their bow-staves in 
 weight and strength over the Continental 
 ones, while their arrows were almost small 
 spears. The elaborate cross-bow, with its 
 squared or quarrel head, devised to prevent 
 the bolt rolling sideways from the stock, is 
 perhaps the only exception to the general 
 simplicity of missile weapons, and its success 
 was not on the whole encouraging. 
 
 January 11. There is a peculiar kind of 
 sky — large mackerels, so to speak — leaden 
 pear shaped clouds following each other in 
 slow succession — which always brings a 
 Scotch battle to mind. May not some far 
 away ancestor, as he fought or fled at Largs, 
 Harlaw, or Pinkie, have been struck by such 
 
1 6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 aspect of the sky In an Interval of stress, and 
 sent it down to me ? 
 
 "Neighbor King's stack is on fire!" For 
 once apprehension is sufficed. Away you fly 
 in the direction indicated, work and business, 
 pain and pleasure alike forgotten in the ex- 
 citement of a servile Insurrection. Arrived 
 on the scene, you find the usually docile and 
 useful slave at bay, surrounded by half a 
 dozen of his hereditary masters, beating 
 down the stack where he lies entrenched, car- 
 rying it away by forkfuls, and throwing the 
 smoking bunches among green bushes, into 
 moist corners, anywhere the rebel will not 
 find an ally. Buckets of water are dragged 
 from the well and flung on the points where 
 an outbreak is most to be dreaded, while 
 every now and then a fierce puff and flash 
 of heat makes all give back. "How did It 
 start"? "Who saw it first"? "A good thing 
 the wind blew this way!" Our conversation 
 is elemental and monosyllabic, as becomes 
 the time. Well do we know there Is no help 
 In the firemen of the distant town; before 
 they can arrive, we shall be victorious or 
 worsted. At last the fray Is over, the bond- 
 man lies chained and prostrate again, send- 
 ing forth a few expiring gasps, and we sep- 
 arate avowing our intention to keep a stricter 
 rule for the future. 
 
 January 12. Mending Clifton barn. The 
 
 flooring of the east mow one thick and 
 
 trongly spiked plank excepted — was torn 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 17 
 
 out for firewood by some of the Irresponsible 
 tenants who Hved there during the nineties, 
 and we are now replacing it. The usual dis- 
 tance of floor beams apart is two to three 
 feet, here it is nearly five, so we have to put 
 in double planking. Inch hemlock over five 
 eighths pine. The hemlock is green frozen 
 stuff, and we have to kneel on a short bit of 
 the pine while working, lest we get rheuma- 
 tism in the knees. 
 
 It has been observed that in most under- 
 takings calling for endurance of mind and 
 body, the leaders generally hold out better 
 than the subordinates. And, to some extent, 
 this is true on the farm. Either the laborer 
 Is more subject to ailments, or more apt to 
 complain of them, than the "boss". Some say 
 this Is because he don't know so well how to 
 take care of himself; others, that being gen- 
 erally younger he has not had time to grow 
 into a veteran; others, that his health and 
 strength being his only stock In trade, he Is 
 more alarmed at their possible failure, and 
 more Inclined to hold forth upon It, than one 
 who has something put by against a rainy 
 day. It Is of course Impossible to tell how 
 much pain one person suffers as compared 
 with another, even from anything so definite 
 as a crushed finger; much more from invisi- 
 ble Internal pains, like dyspepsia or head- 
 ache. But It maybe generally stated that when 
 a stout young fellow spends two days In bed 
 on account of an alleged toothache he Is rath- 
 er overdoing It ; also that when the opportune 
 
1 8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 occurrence of a holiday causes swift recovery 
 from grinding pain, doubts may be felt as to 
 the severity of the complaint. 
 
 January /j. Took load of hay to neigh- 
 bor K. It is an old device with those that 
 sell hay to take it to market on a damp 
 threatening day; for the dry stuff out of the 
 barn absorbes moisture from the air, and 
 reaches the scales many pounds heavier than 
 it left the farm. I have also heard a laborer 
 who came to us from Pennsylvania relate 
 that in the region where he worked the farm- 
 ers would spend much time adjusting the 
 forkfuls of hay as they were pitched on the 
 load destined for market, so that the heads 
 of timothy should show on the outside as 
 much as possible; and this improved its ap- 
 pearance so much as a dollar a ton beyond 
 that tossed on anyhow. 
 
 January i/f. Journeying along the banks 
 of the Delaware I observed what a theatrical 
 appearance has dirty old ice sprinkled with 
 fresh white snow. 
 
 The four spiritual quarter-days; Walpur- 
 gis, Midsummer, Hallowe'en, Christmas. 
 While they do not exactly correspond in dis- 
 tance to the old days of settlement, being 
 strained rather than rent, yet there is some 
 likeness. Walpurgis, (April 30) as all 
 know, is the festival of the evil spirits, and 
 then is kindled the bale-fire — the flame of 
 Baal — round which fiend and witch foot it 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 19 
 
 together. Midsummer Eve has more cheery 
 associations. Then troop the fairies, those 
 failed divinities, Kelpie and Lurley are but 
 shrunken Naiads, gnome and kobold Her- 
 cules or Mercury rubbed down. 
 
 Hallowe'en brings on the harmful, un- 
 necessary ghost, the laundress semblance, the 
 mirror awaiting Daguerre, the prophetic 
 mandrake or its humble imitator, the cab- 
 bage stump, the apples of Eden, upborne by 
 the Deluge, and Ariadue's clue, flung into the 
 Cretan kiln. Lastly, Christmas rises from 
 the unearthly to the heavenly; then only an- 
 gels are heard, and that with its solstitial 
 comrade hath gentle Shakespeare celebrated 
 in his verse, leaving the more fearsome out- 
 breaks occurring in Spring and Autumn to 
 the treatment of dour Scot and misty Teuton. 
 
 January 75. The Stoics are well named. 
 They entered not the house of truth, only 
 dwelt in its porch, but the porch of the Greek 
 temple was its chief glory and beauty. Their 
 ideal was attainable by man, and dignified in 
 its ignoring of circumstances. Christ's teach- 
 ing went half way with that of the Stoic, then 
 overwhelmed it. "Fear not them which kill 
 the body, but are not able to kill the soul", 
 was repeatedly said by Epaphroditus' slave; 
 but the next sentence "Rather fear him" 
 goes far beyond. On the other hand while 
 "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on 
 earth" seems to strike at the root of the Ep- 
 icurean doctrine, what follows of treasure in 
 
20 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 heaven confirms and sublimes It. 
 
 January i6. Walking over field noticed 
 the empty cartridge shells of the December 
 gunners. These cases of brass and paper al- 
 ready rusting and rotting, compare as ill 
 with the Indian's imperishable stone arrow- 
 head as someone says the tin-can of modern 
 civilization does with the pottery of Kurium. 
 
 City people who come into the country, (a 
 few artists and a very few well behaved peo- 
 ple excepted) do so either to pilfer, to pol- 
 lute, or to destroy. Under the first head, come 
 the snappers up of fruit, flowers, nuts, and 
 ferns; under the second, the picnickers; un- 
 der the third, the fishers, hunters, and fire- 
 raisers. Perhaps they do not always propose 
 these ends to themselves, but the results just- 
 ify the above statement. Who has not seen 
 cultivated berries and blossoms snatched up, 
 nay, perhaps, dug up, with trowel afore- 
 thought? How many a pretty woodland 
 nook more resembles a pig-sty after the de- 
 parture of a jolly lunch party, who have lit- 
 tered it with melon rinds, papers, tin cans, 
 and bottles. And how often is a dangerous 
 fire set by persons who run away and leave 
 some one else the task of putting it out? And 
 these things are done by nice young people 
 without an ill word or thought, except for 
 the owner of the property, should he appear 
 with remonstrance. When country people 
 come to town, it is either to transact business 
 or to look at shows, for which they pay good 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 21 
 
 money. Yet rustics, boors, and the like, 
 have the name of being deficient in civility. 
 
 January ij. Several trees which were 
 burst by the frost blow last winter now show 
 their wounds where sap has oozed from the 
 rupture during last summer, and stained the 
 bark. I heard two or three of them go at the 
 time. One, I remember, a large ailanthus, 
 thus sounded one night when the thermom- 
 eter reached 17° below zero, like a log 
 which after holding a long time suddenly 
 splits under great strain from wedges. The 
 process is not very clear, but would seem to 
 be just the reverse of a tub or jug bursting 
 from the expansion of ice within. 
 
 January 18. Drawing up wood. Several 
 sticks containing hibernating- ants, the large 
 black kind. It is said that the Maine log- 
 choppers, when bilious from long feeding on 
 pork and beans, used to eat these insects for 
 the formic acid they contain. I have tried it 
 myself, biting off the abdomen, and rejecting 
 the head and thorax; and I remember they 
 tasted like sorrel. 
 
 The only hibernating mammal I have ever 
 seen in this neighborhood is a long tailed 
 mouse, dark above and yellow beneath, sev- 
 eral specimens of which I have dug out of a 
 gravel bank, two or three feet from the sur- 
 face. 
 
 The city papers, without which what 
 should we do, are full of advice to us In 
 
22 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 these days concerning the fly. "Down with 
 him, show no mercy, kill, take, slay!" they 
 cry concerning the insect which Domitian was 
 blamed, even in heathen times, for putting to 
 death, and which Uncle Toby spared with a 
 kindly word. But admitting that their coun- 
 sel is fundamentally sound, its details are 
 open to criticism. "The fly's only breeding- 
 place is in filth" they cry. "Disinfect, clean 
 up, cart away without a moment's respite. 
 Let your cattle have a piece of woods to run 
 in, where they can be free from these tor- 
 ments", etc., etc. Now perhaps filth may be 
 the fly's nursery in the city, where it is the 
 only soft moist place he can find, but the re- 
 verse is the case in the country, where he 
 much more affects the open fields than the 
 barn's vicinity. And as to the woods, I have 
 often noticed in riding through them that the 
 stinging fly at least — Stomoxys calcitrans — 
 was more frequent there than anywhere else. 
 Once In riding through a small piece of 
 woodland, not above ten acres in extent, I 
 killed nine flies of the order referred to on 
 my horse's neck. 
 
 January ig. The purple sap of green 
 chestnut wood stains the axe blade more than 
 any other. Cedar, pine and sassafras can all 
 be told by their odor when cut, and drying on 
 a dead stick turn It bright green. This last 
 wood, by the way, seems to have formed a 
 large part of the cargoes sent home to Eng- 
 land by the early settlers. Our ancestors had 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 23 
 
 an exaggerated belief In its medicinal vir- 
 tues; a belief which in Charles Lamb's time 
 only lingered among the sweeps, whom he 
 described as delighting in sassafras tea, 
 which they called "Saloop". 
 
 Has anybody living ever seen a man-trap? 
 One reads of them in the old books, and 1 
 have heard of an eccentric Englishman who 
 made a collection of them; but they appear 
 fabulous as the Minotaur, and I suppose he 
 who set them now would be detested as his 
 owner. Yet a hundred years back they seem 
 to have been considered quite the proper 
 thing. See Jane Taylor, "That large ring of 
 Iron, which lies on the ground, with terrible 
 teeth like a saw". 
 
 Said Bobby — "The guard of our garden is 
 
 found. 
 It keeps wicked robbers in awe". 
 
 No doubt then as to who was wicked. But 
 now, along with the man-trap, have gone the 
 teuter-hooks and the broken glass which I 
 have often seen topping fences and walls fif- 
 ty years ago. But bitter as the outcry would 
 be against them now, there is a mode of de- 
 fense which Includes the possibilities of harm 
 they all possess, which can Inflict most ghast- 
 ly wounds, which yet is turned out by the 
 mile from many a mill, and sold In every 
 State of the Union with scarcely a word of 
 protest, at various prices and in various 
 shapes. I refer to barbed wire, that Ameri- 
 
24 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 can hybrid between the man-trap and the 
 hedge. 
 
 January 20. Passing over land lately 
 drained, observed the course of the ditches, 
 both mains and laterals Indicated by the drier 
 and more crumbly earth over them; so that 
 from a balloon one could have drawn a com- 
 plete map of the system. On another field, 
 now in sod, one of the drains can be traced 
 by a narrow line of timothy, growing upon 
 it, not above a foot wide, swamp grass and 
 rushes on either side. 
 
 This last meadow has a curious diversity 
 of soil, some seven by five hundred feet, 
 about two thirds of Its width Is sandy, then 
 comes a strip of stiff loam, and the rest Is 
 black muck full of bowlders large and small 
 bottomed by tough yellow clay. The stones 
 rest on this as on rock, the largest leaving no 
 hollows. Presumably the muck has formed 
 around the stones since they were deposited. 
 My efforts at draining this spot have not 
 been very successful, as may be seen. Water 
 as well as stone lies on the hard pan, so that 
 only the depth of ditch sunk into the clay af- 
 fects k. Perhaps nothing changes the char- 
 acter of a piece of land like thorough drain- 
 age unless It be the felling of a forest; and 
 this Is solely destructive. It will be remem- 
 bered that the most beneficlent task Goethe 
 could devise for his reformed Faust was the 
 reclamation of a great salt marsh. If the 
 Hackensack meadows had been In Holland, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 25 
 
 undoubtedly they had been ditched and sown 
 ere this. 
 
 January 21. There is an oak beside the 
 wood road on which a flat fungus grows 
 every summer, at the same place, about five 
 feet from the ground. It appears in August, 
 lasts through the fall, drops off in winter, 
 and a dark spot marks the bark until warm 
 weather. At the root of another tree a large 
 pink fungus has appeared for several sea- 
 sons. 
 
 There is an orange-colored fungus which 
 springs up in drooping clusters, not unlike 
 sponges in form, at the roots of cherry-trees. 
 This also is recurrent for years together, 
 though not perennial. Another, which I have 
 observed growing in, or rather grown 
 through by thick grass, is of a whitish spec- 
 kled hue, resembling the breast of a thrush, 
 as large, or larger, than an ordinary bucket, 
 and apparently held up, disconnected with 
 the earth, by the hundred or more stems 
 which pierce it through as the twigs pierce a 
 wasp's nest. Then there is the carrion fun- 
 gus, the asphalltian, which draws flies like 
 spoiled meat. And one more house variety 
 I remember, during a very hot damp spell 
 developed suddenly in an old couch left in a 
 dark and musty basement. So rapid was its 
 growth, enlarging from the dimensions of an 
 apple to those of a pumpkin within a few 
 hours, that it split and burst the covering of 
 the lounge in a manner surprising to behold. 
 
26 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 As though witch-craft had inhered, couch 
 and fungus were shortly committed to the 
 flames, without any effort to ascertain its 
 species, which, at this distance, seems rather 
 a pity. 
 
 January 22. The mediaeval king kept his 
 place by balance; his underlings by grip. And 
 between them they rode that patient horse, 
 the people, hard and far. Still, it should be 
 remembered that the trained horse with a 
 rider can generally beat the unburdened wild 
 one. If there had been no kings in history it 
 would have been necessary for the poets to 
 invent them; so essential is it to the well-be- 
 ing of humanity to have some one above 
 them who can neither be blamed nor pun- 
 ished. Let him who doubts this consider if 
 the Great Republic has not an equivalent 
 sovereign, though his name be neither Rich- 
 ard nor Robin. When the old-time king could 
 not keep his seat, or hold the rein, he fell, as 
 did Alfonso from Bavieca; and Bivar arose 
 to fill his place. So fell the luckless Seconds 
 of English history — Edward, and Richard, 
 and James — and so sprang a lawful heir, or 
 an aggrieved noble, or a discontented son-in- 
 law into the saddle. "If our master be not 
 brave and wise, we will choose another" 
 cried the nation in effect, "but a master we 
 must have". 
 
 January 2^. Mr. N. is carting blue shale 
 upon his roads. No stone disintegrates more 
 rapidly than the red shale. I have seen great 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 27 
 
 blocks of it carted into a street, which in six 
 weeks were reduced to small cubes like dice 
 and in six more had become sticky clay. The 
 blue variety, however, is harder, and will re- 
 main gritty a year or so. 
 
 The track on a dirt road changes about 
 like the fashions. For weeks, or perhaps for 
 months, be it winter or summer, the wagons 
 will keep to one side, wearing deep ruts, or 
 crushing all into fine dust. At last something, 
 a stalled wagon, a fallen branch, even a brick 
 dropped from a load, will compel, or at least 
 induce a turn out, and forthwith all vehicles 
 take the long, neglected, weathered, perhaps, 
 grass-grown side of the way, and keep to it 
 for a long term. Of course, the changes are 
 more frequent and rational in spring, when 
 the frost is coming out, and a quag on one 
 side may exist with very fair travelling on 
 the other. Again, a bad boulder which every 
 one strikes and no one will pull out, just 
 showing in the highway, will keep travel 
 where only the wheels will hit it for perhaps 
 twenty years. It has been said that a horse 
 will not tread on you if he can help it, but 
 neither will he tread on a large stone if he 
 can help it, and slave as he is to us in many 
 ways, his persistence in this and some other 
 points, gains the day oftener than we sup- 
 pose. Most likely the Hebrews took their 
 own paths toward the pyramids. 
 
 January 24. Our florist has tried nitrate 
 of soda on his carnations, and says that 
 
28 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 though they grow large and fine, yet they 
 would not keep after cutting, decaying the 
 next day, when he had to make them good at 
 a sacrifice. But even muck cannot always be 
 relied on. 
 
 Muck is sometimes, perhaps most fre- 
 quently, used to signify barn-yard refuse. 
 The Man with the Muck-rake of whom we 
 have heard so much, in late years, after his 
 long slumber in Bunyan's Allegory, drew to 
 himself with that tool the sticks, straws, and 
 small dust of the floor. But another use of 
 the word is as a synonym for peat, from 
 which it differs little, save that the latter may 
 be one step nearer coal. Forty years ago, 
 the stuff was much cried up for application to 
 sandy soils, and competing with manure. 
 Winter after winter we used to go to the 
 swamp of a neighbor whom we paid twelve 
 and a half cents a load, cut up the frozen sod 
 into squares, pry it off, and then dig out the 
 black cheese-like muck to a depth of perhaps 
 two feet, when water was reached. It was 
 then carted to dry land nearby, piled, and 
 left to weather for six months or so; by that 
 time it had become dry and powdery, and 
 was either applied directly to the land, or 
 mixed with manure. Many a day have I 
 spent in the labor, yet I do believe it was 
 mostly wasted time, and that only by apply- 
 ing it as thickly as the existing soil could any 
 good have been done. 
 
 January 25. Snow began yesterday and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 29 
 
 this morning a veritable blizzard has set it. 
 Drifts, bitter cold, high wind, cars stopped. 
 ''Though our silence be drawn from us with 
 cars, yet peace". Twelfth Night. The first 
 time I ever saw the word "blizzard" was 
 during the campaign of 1872, in a satire on 
 Carl Schurz ; wherein he was said to give the 
 foe 
 
 "Full five fingers of buckshot. 
 And then reload for the next blizzard". 
 
 Here it is evident that a charge of shot had 
 been the meaning of the word up to that 
 time. But it soon after came to mean as at 
 present. To take another case, Graft, in the 
 sense of extra-legal gains by city officials, has 
 so completely overwhelmed the original 
 meaning, viz: the transference of a living 
 branch or cutting from one tree to another, 
 that it may be doubted if many remain who 
 know the word's original significance. So 
 in a recent tale the boy who heard two of his 
 elders refer to some young hircines sporting 
 on the rocks nearby as "kids", interrupted 
 them with the statement that "them wasn't 
 kids; them was little goats". It were inter- 
 esting to speculate whether a word ever 
 changes to slang before its adopted children 
 outnumber those lawfully its own. Thus, are 
 there only of late years more corrupt, or at 
 least venal municipal officials than work- 
 ing gardeners? Did the use of "kid" 
 above noted (and it is not new, it 
 
30 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 existed, with an affix, more than a hun- 
 dred years ago) only begin when the 
 young of humans outnumbered those of cap- 
 rines? Did the metaphorical sense of "cut- 
 ting a stick" first spring to life when real 
 travellers became more numerous than dis- 
 appointed lovers? And, to take one of those 
 rare instances where a word has gained by 
 extension, was the term "witch" only 
 changed from a foul insult to a pretty jest 
 when the roll of charming girls grew longer 
 than that of old hags believed to be in league 
 with the devil ? 
 
 January 26. To town on wood sled. 
 Snow, like the sea, levels distinctions. Man- 
 ners are laid by; children ask for rides, nay, 
 take them without asking, and pelt you, who 
 would not think of it during the many 
 months, when wheels prevail. Now come 
 forth old mossy backs from Fresh Ponds, 
 and Black Horse, in ancient sledges with low 
 runners, high backs resplendent with blue and 
 yellow rails, and absurd little dashboards, 
 which look as if they might go back to Berk- 
 ley and Carteret. Now and then one sees a 
 pung hastily knocked together from green 
 saplings and rough boards, and the depot 
 hacks are fitted with bobs. The sleigh-bell's 
 voice has drowned the motor man's gong, 
 the auto's horn, the bicyclist's whistle, and 
 all goes dancing by the stalled trolley-car, 
 like a tribe of Indians who have gained tem- 
 porary advantage over the strenuous and in- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 31 
 
 exorable white man. 
 
 January 27. The place where chickens 
 fluttered through the snow is marked by the 
 slaps of their wings on either side, but with 
 pinions distended so that each feather cuts 
 the snow separately, not with a solid stroke. 
 Is this how they beat the air? Or does the 
 snow trip them and make them strike awry? 
 
 The gait of men, as well as that of birds 
 — and I suppose the progress of a gallinace- 
 ous fowl might be termed its gait — is much 
 affected by circumstances. The farmer jogs 
 or plods, the soldier strides, the sailor rolls, 
 the maiden trips, or used to do so In the days 
 before she took to offering man her sincerest 
 flattery. The ragged recruits of Falstaff 
 marched wide between the legs, remember- 
 ing their recent fetters. The tailor is knock- 
 kneed, the smith bow-legged, the savage toes 
 in, the boatman shuffles. Dancer and thief 
 are light of foot, cook and mason ponderous. 
 None can for long disguise his Spiiren, to use 
 that admirable German term so wanting to 
 our language, while his accustomed environ- 
 ment remains; but let It suddenly change, as 
 with the fowls above, and the deft runner 
 may become a clumsy swimmer, the trudg- 
 ing lout a daring and skillful skater. We 
 shall never fly with wings; the swing-shelf 
 men have settled all that for us; but If we 
 did, perhaps the worst on earth might be the 
 best In heaven. 
 
32 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 January 28. The deep snow has put a 
 stop to fires in the woods, one of which I 
 found and extinguished a few days ago. It 
 was about eight feet across, burning briskly 
 away among dead leaves and spreading in 
 all directions. It was, of course, easy to ex- 
 tinguish a fire of this size; and having done 
 so, I made after some boys who had just left 
 and upbraided them. They, of course, de- 
 clared it was the work of "some other fel- 
 lers", a thing hard to believe when the flame 
 was so recent.^. 
 
 January 2g. Stages of travel. Storming 
 through the world, crossing the continent, 
 traversing the town, walking in the garden, 
 pacing the room, tossing in bed, wandering in 
 mind. 
 
 January jo. Plants as well as animals 
 seem to perish before the advance of civili- 
 zation, even when not directly attacked. The 
 Spinning-vine or Hartford fern, formerly 
 abundant in swamps hereabout, has utterly 
 disappeared. And the ground pine, a small 
 evergreen of upright growth, is rapidly dis- 
 appearing. Could only find a few very small 
 shoots this year in a place where it once grew 
 thickly. Of course, both of these were gath- 
 ered for decorative purposes, but one would 
 not suppose that this would have annihilated 
 them within thirty years. 
 
 January 57. The chopping-block is a tree 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 33 
 
 turned traitor, one who becomes an instru- 
 ment of the tyrant's cruelty upon his fellows 
 to prolong his own miserable existence. 
 
 February 1. The reason folk frequently 
 lament the loss of friends less than the loss 
 of property is that the former is inevitable 
 and the latter is not, at least to our represen- 
 tatives. 
 
 Old Age — get thee hence, thou shipper in- 
 to the land of stumbling and weariness, of 
 fear and favors. So far as thou art tolera- 
 ble or admired, it is because thou art not al- 
 together old age — thou retainest from neigh- 
 bor Youth a strong hand, or an abundant 
 chevelure, a keen eye, or a quick wit. When 
 Swift's wanderer first heard of the Struld- 
 brugs, he cried in transport "What a happy 
 society theirs must be ! Relieved from the 
 fear of death, at leisure to stow their minds 
 with the wisdom of the ancients, and ever 
 gathering experience — sure there can be no 
 better company!" But upon introduction, he 
 found them bitter and querulous, gloomy yet 
 trifling; their only pleasure the dissemination 
 of scandal, and the ailments which afflicted 
 them at sixty continuing always the same, 
 without increase or diminution. Yet this 
 Dantean circle resulted only from durability 
 of life, segregation, and numbers. There were, 
 if I remember rightly, about fifteen hundred 
 in the colony. No Old Folks' Home has ever 
 been so large; but if such an one were found, 
 it would, I imagine, bear a strong resem- 
 
34 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 blance to Swift's community of Struldbrugs. 
 
 February 2. As usual, the sun shone to- 
 day. Candlemas is almost always bright 
 with us. The old sayings "Clear and bright, 
 winter will have another flight". "Candle- 
 mas Day, half your corn and half your hay", 
 refer not only to a climate very different 
 from ours, but also to the old style so long 
 prevalent in England, which set everything 
 back eight or ten days. A pretty strife in 
 town between trolley and grocery men, pitch- 
 ing snow back and forth from tracks to gut- 
 ter. 
 
 The Sybarite whom it tired to see other 
 people work, has been often held up to ridi- 
 cule; but he was only born before his time. 
 Had he lived nowadays he might well have 
 belonged to one of those associations some 
 of whose members were not long since heard 
 discussing and denouncing the conduct of a 
 farmer who worked sixteen hours a day. In 
 some way — how, was not exactly made clear 
 — they conceived that the interests of their 
 order were jeopardized because a man in his 
 own business worked longer hours than they 
 did in theirs. Somewhat analogous to this is 
 the indignation expressed by times at men- 
 tion of the harvest moon, for that the peas- 
 antry of Europe used to get in their crops by 
 its light, supplementing the day; which indig- 
 nation appears almost side by side with jub- 
 ilant statements that the Western harvests 
 are so heavy that the farmers are obliged to 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 3^ 
 
 run their reapers by night. Again, one shall 
 see calls for an eight hour day in one news- 
 paper column, and in the next glad refer- 
 ences to the fact that the mills at such and 
 such a place are running overtime. 
 
 February j. Very cold. Spent all morn- 
 ing carrying wood and keeping up fires. Ani- 
 mals seem to have no idea of exercising to 
 keep warm. They just turn their backs to 
 the wind and crouch; but perhaps if one had 
 only a limited amount of fuel it would be bet- 
 ter just to keep a spark alive till the snap was 
 over than to burn it all out in a few hours. 
 
 The first legislation against cruelty to ani- 
 mals is said to have been an enactment 
 passed in the days of Queen Elizabeth pro- 
 hibiting "plowing at the horse's tail" as then 
 practised in Ireland. 
 
 This custom consisted in lashing the plow- 
 beam to the horse's tail with a bit of rope, 
 and then, while one man held the plow, an- 
 other walked backward before the animal, 
 guiding it with blows of a stick. It seems as 
 though this plan must have cocked the plow 
 so high into the air that the point would take 
 no hold on the soil. It seems also as if only 
 the most spiritless of equines would have sub- 
 mitted to the treatment, but that it was fre- 
 quently done the act against it proves. The 
 cruelty of the practise needs no demonstra- 
 tion; it could not have been profitable, but 
 was perhaps preferable to starvation. 
 Whether the English legislators were moved 
 
36 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 solely by pity of the miserable beast, or 
 whether they desired to make a market for 
 English plows and harness does not appear; 
 probably their motives were mixed, as some- 
 times happens, even at the present day, when 
 those who bear to look on fights, cannot bear 
 to look on films. 
 
 Fahruary /f. Shakespeare, in ''Henry the 
 V." speaks of the meadows, neglected 
 through war, being grown up to docks and 
 kecksies. In "Evenings at Home", (circa 
 1800) George says, referring to the stems 
 of the water hemlock, "the boys blow 
 through them, and call them kexes". This 
 same water hemlock is said to be poisonous 
 to foals, and is allied to our wild carrot, 
 through eating of which Mr. W. died. Tame 
 carrots occasionally revert to wild, or else 
 the seed is mixed. 
 
 Poisonous plants and herbage seem to 
 have been more abundant in days of yore 
 than now, as, indeed, do poisonous grains 
 and fruits. But it may be that everything 
 which was, or looked, edible was so scarce 
 that neither man nor beast could pick and 
 choose. It may also be that dyspepsia was 
 so rare that a brisk attack of it was called a 
 case of poisoning. Xenophon's troops, poi- 
 soned by wild honey, will at once come to 
 mind, also the divinity students who ate wild 
 gourds with Elisha. Sheep have at times 
 been more or less poisoned by lambkill, kal- 
 mia, or wild laurel. Cows can eat poison 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 37 
 
 ivy with impunity, though as that Is a blood 
 poison, the fact is the less remarkable. Both 
 cattle and sheep are said to have been pois- 
 oned by eating the young sprouts of the wild 
 cherry, which, as does the peach, contains a 
 dash of prussic acid in its leaves. Poke- 
 weed berries, and the flowers of the trumpet 
 creeper, used to be classed among noxious 
 attractions of this kind, at least I remember 
 divers woes being visited on children who 
 assayed to blow the said trumpets. Lastly, 
 that very uninviting herb, stramomium, or 
 jimson weed, is placed, with much reason, 
 among the forbidden fruits. 
 
 February 5. Yesterday distinctly saw sun 
 spot through smoked glass. Some attribute 
 the extreme cold of the winter to this. 
 
 A glass slipper, in the well known fairy 
 tale, probably meant one spangled with glass 
 beads; just as a glass coach, somewhat later 
 in the day, signified a carriage fitted with 
 glass windows. It needs no demonstration 
 that a slipper of solid glass would be utter- 
 ly unsuited for dancing, even though it might 
 more rigidly exclude the pretender and the 
 intruder. Glass, like most of the flowers we 
 cultivate, came at first in very small morsels, 
 though in many cases, unsurpassedly rich in 
 color — teste the mediaeval church windows. 
 But as the chrysanthemum has grown from a 
 button to a hat, so has plate glass enlarged 
 upon us; and now every little shopkeeper can 
 have panes to his show window of a size no 
 
3S A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 monarch on earth could have obtained two 
 hundred years ago. So far has this gone 
 that the pane's humble old friends — putty 
 and lead — seem in a fair way to be entirely 
 discarded; and some of the modern windows 
 are hooked together with little metal hinges 
 or buckles as though intended to open at any 
 point that will please the taste of customers, 
 or the art of the window dresser. 
 
 February 6. Gullying of slopes varies 
 greatly with the soil. As a rule, it is worst 
 on the best lands. On a heavy, strong loam 
 the washout is crooked, at first thrown right 
 and left by the stones which It later under- 
 mines, bringing down the overlying soil. On 
 our red shale the matter Is different. While 
 the soil gullies easily, the washout is straight 
 and always hard at the bottom, where it goes 
 down to the rock. But never have I seen 
 more melancholy examples of washing than 
 in the Apennines near Pistoia. Great hills 
 of yellow clay, without tree, bush or grass, 
 ripped down the sides in all directions by 
 huge, ragged gullies with deltas of silt 
 spreading out from their bottoms, went to 
 form one of the most depressing landscapes 
 I have ever looked upon. 
 
 February J . Started an owl from a tree 
 near the barn-yard last night. He probably 
 had an eye to the pigeons. Some years since 
 I heard a curious snapping noise In the barn 
 at night, which I attributed to rats. Next 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 39 
 
 morning on opening the door of the pigeon's 
 box an owl bustled out, leaving behind him 
 the remains of two squabs. This was most 
 likely a screech owl, as they are numerous 
 hereabout, while I have never certainly noted 
 the large barn owl. 
 
 February 8. What can be seen of the 
 winter wheat looks poorly. A heavy drift 
 overlies part of the field, but beyond this a 
 thin sheet of ice covers most of it. And ice 
 is as bad for grain as snow is good. 
 
 How many of Dickens' grimy, gloomy, 
 squalid interiors would be unbearable but for 
 one irradiating object — a pot of liquor. The 
 draught administered by Newman Noggs to 
 Smike, just arrived in London from York- 
 shire, the purl shared by Swiveller and the 
 Marchioness at their memorable game of 
 cards in the damp kitchen, the punch which 
 Quilp's family and the watermen were im- 
 bibing at the time of his unexpected return — 
 is not the cordial julep, flaming and dancing 
 in its pewter bounds, the life of many more 
 that might be enumerated? 
 
 February g. Much time has been spent 
 this winter in shoveling paths and breaking 
 out roads. What useless and unprofitable 
 work it is. After hours of it, one is no bet- 
 ter off than before the storm. The Romans 
 were the best road builders, the Arabs the 
 poorest. These last had no snow, frost, mud 
 or swamps and but few rivers. 
 
40 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK i 
 
 The condition of a slave or serf is the 
 cause of contumelious treatment lingering 
 after the conditions to which it gave rise 
 have passed away — not the color of the skin. 
 The Ethiopians were slaves here, the abo- 
 rigines were not generally so. Consequently, 
 they are held in very different esteem. Most 
 folks are rather proud of being descended 
 from an Indian. Negroes are not pariahs in 
 Europe, because there the dark face never in- 
 dicated a bondman — nay, the swarthy 
 Moors ruled over the fairer Spaniards for 
 centuries. By the way, did that fine old ex- 
 pression "blackamore" designate a person 
 black as a Moor, or blacker than a Moor? 
 In England, that early bird, the Saxon, be- 
 came a serf under Norman rule; and that is 
 why the low class Englishman was so cava- 
 lierly treated by the high class Englishman 
 until a very recent period. One proof of the 
 way human beings were regarded as stocks 
 and stones in that country (as a Friend of 
 Humanity might exclaim) is that the traveller 
 there hardly ever sees a hitching post; a boy 
 is supposed to spring up at a whistle (and he 
 mostly does) to hold your horse for tup- 
 pence. 
 
 February lo. When splitting a heavy 
 chunk, if you cannot hit hard enough to 
 cleave it, turn the axe, so as to strike its poll 
 on the chopping block, with the billet stick- 
 ing on the blade. Gravitation thus conies to 
 your aid, and the weight of the chunk is its 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 41 
 
 own undoing. 
 
 Many modern tools were fashioned or de- 
 vised from the unaccustomed use of an old 
 one. E. G., the Acme harrow-tooth from 
 the track left by a plow run on its share 
 edge ; the tedder from the upward and back- 
 ward stroke of a pitchfork. It is said that 
 the old-time sickle had teeth like a saw, and 
 from no other instrument could the action 
 of the machine mower blade even seem to be 
 derived. The greatest step in the evolution 
 of the plow was probably taken by him who 
 first observed that a triangular stock would 
 turn the soil upward and sideways better than 
 a round rooter. Next, but at a great inter- 
 val, came the iron point or share used by 
 Samson's contemporaries. Then the coulter 
 known to Chaucer and the Cid; but the 
 wooden mold board, so often alluded to by 
 Scott's peasantry as needing to be scraped 
 clear of mold with the plough-paidle, hung 
 on almost to our own time. An illustration 
 to an edition of Thomson's "Seasons", pub- 
 lished in the late 1700's, represents the farm- 
 er going forth to turn his first spring furrow, 
 paidle in hand. And a most discouraging 
 task it must have been, for only a sandv sod 
 will slip cleanly from wood. 
 
 February 11. How many fatal spots one 
 comes to know in a neighborhood after long 
 residence. Just adjoining the north end of 
 this farm is a gully where a murder was com- 
 mitted some fifty years ago; and in the river 
 
42 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 nearby a girl was drowned thirty-five years 
 back. About the same time a drunkard was 
 drowned in a ditch of the Island Farm east- 
 ward. I know a house in town, which while 
 building fell on two men and killed them, 
 and a yard wherein a woman was burnt to 
 death. 
 
 February 12. S. Perhaps one of the 
 hardest blows ever dealt the hapless abo- 
 rigines of this continent was calling them In- 
 dians so that naming them referred them, as 
 it were, to another land. 
 
 That more than half our States have re- 
 tained the aboriginal names was a thing 
 hardly to be expected, considering that but 
 two of the old thirteen did so, and how 
 strongly the colonists' taste ran to old asso- 
 ciations. Maryland, Virginia, Georgia, the 
 Carolinas, were named for monarchs, Dela- 
 ware for a noble, Vermont, Pennsylvania, 
 Florida were fanciful. New York goes back 
 to old Eboracum, New Jersey to Caesar's 
 Isle in the Channel. Maine and Rhode Isl- 
 and were dubbed for territory that never be- 
 longed to Great Britain. New Hampshire 
 for an English county, California for a Span- 
 ish romance. Montana, Colorado, and Ne- 
 vada would seem to have gone on their looks. 
 That one state should have refused to part 
 with the name of our greatest man was per- 
 haps inevitable. It is not surprising that 
 Scandinavians should have termed southern 
 New England Vinland; but (to go out of our 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 43 
 
 Union for a moment) a reason is far to 
 seek for Spaniards calling that forbidding 
 peninsula north of the St. Lawrence Labra- 
 dor (farming land). One can but suppose 
 they did it because, bearing no forests, it 
 looked already cleared for the husbandman. 
 
 February /j. Hay coming up from the 
 salt meadows on sleds. It is difficult to make 
 a good load on a sled, as on a boat, because 
 of the narrowness and instability of the 
 foundation. 
 
 Hay seems to have been little known in 
 the Middle Ages. Stock was wintered most- 
 ly on straw and leaves. Tusser, who wrote 
 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, gives much 
 advice to the farmer as to the cutting and 
 storing of green branches, which might serve 
 as fodder, when pasture failed. He is par- 
 ticular as to the desirability of saving the 
 beech cuttings for the milch cows ; whereas 
 for sheep anything would do. A miserable 
 dependence it would appear to us now, but 
 then it seems to have been looked on, if not 
 as a matter of course, at least as a thing 
 practiced by the more forehanded and capa- 
 ble. There must have been some natural 
 meadows in England, even then, but perhaps 
 all their produce was saved for the horses of 
 kings. As far as I can recollect, there is no 
 mention of hay in Shakespeare, if we except 
 Bottom's remark ''Good hay, sweet hay, 
 hath no fellow", and even that suggests its 
 rarity. By Milton's time, a hundred years 
 
44 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 later, "The mower whets his scythe" "And 
 the tanned haycock In the mead" were faml- 
 Har country objects. 
 
 February i^. Last season, when I got 
 some potatoes from a cellar under an unin- 
 habited house, It was like plucking them out 
 of the very jaws of winter. The planks and 
 beams above the windows, and the upper 
 part of the walls, shone and sparkled with 
 frost, while only the warm breath slowly ris- 
 ing from the heart of earth kept the vegeta- 
 bles alive. 
 
 February 75. Thoreau has spoken of the 
 Indigo shadows on snow. One summer day, 
 when looking toward the distant horizon, un- 
 der the branches of thick trees, I saw what 
 I took for black storm clouds. Next moment 
 I saw that some clothing upon a line filled the 
 space, and Instantly what had looked black 
 looked white. 
 
 February 16. Once, burning some brush 
 with an English boy, we differed as to the 
 best method of placing the sticks. He wanted 
 to set them up In pyramidal form, while I 
 thought they did best laid horizontally. Af- 
 ter some days' dissension, I said to him one 
 morning "You make a fire over there, I'll 
 build one here; It will save carrying the sticks 
 so far". This we accordingly did, but I no- 
 ticed that several times during the forenoon 
 he came to my fire for brands to keep his up, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 45 
 
 and after that he was more of my opinion. 
 
 When showing a laborer that he "kens 
 na his work by half", is it best to do so as 
 soon as the error is made, or the fault com- 
 mitted, or to let it go until the next time he 
 is about to do the same thing? Of course, 
 one has then the advantage of speaking in 
 coolness, and being able to point out the mis- 
 takes to be avoided as they approach. On 
 the other hand, there arc those who cannot 
 reprove at all, unless they do it under irrita- 
 tion, and to postpone it until emotion has 
 passed away makes them feel, with Archdea- 
 con Grantley, that much good hot anger has 
 been wasted. Doubtless the laborer would 
 prefer that nothing should ever be said at all 
 about his faults, but the owner can hardly be 
 expected to submit to the spoiling of his 
 goods until it gradually dawns upon the hire- 
 ling that something is wrong, and (still more 
 slowly) what is the best way to mend it. 
 Burns, it is recorded, was wont to say when 
 he heard his brother, Gilbert, scolding the 
 farmhands, "Oh, man, ye are no for young 
 folk", but Burns' end was not such as to en- 
 courage any other farmer in the like good 
 nature. 
 
 February //. Very icy roads. Went to 
 town with smooth shod horse, and crawled 
 about the lower streets, both he and I in 
 great terror. Being unable to get a place at 
 the blacksmith's, I finally procured some bur- 
 lap at a store, and tied his feet up in It like 
 
46 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 puddings. This, to some extent, gave him 
 stability, but as the stuff cut through every 
 five minutes, I had frequently to stop and ad- 
 just it, endeavoring to get as much of a pad 
 as possible under the sole. Thus, with much 
 delay and many scrambles, we got home 
 without an actual fall. 
 
 February i8. Those numerous ladies 
 who nowadays denounce skirts should pause 
 and reflect how many female statues have 
 been preserved by their flowing draperies, 
 and of how many male nought has come 
 down to us but feet and ankles. 
 
 The first thing which can be called a stat- 
 ue, mentioned in all history, was probably 
 Lot's wife. Then there were those which 
 woke to life, e. g., Pygmalion's bride and 
 Hermione, and those whose mutilation was 
 resented as if they had been alive — the 
 Athenian Hermae. It has often been stated 
 that sculpture, to be satisfactory, must either 
 follow the lines of the human figure, or the 
 flow of drapery. Plate-armor, it is true, 
 which does neither of these things, makes a 
 very fair appearance in counterfeit present- 
 ments, probably for the reason that it recog- 
 nizes the joints. Perhaps a remark might 
 not here be misplaced concerning the present 
 helpless state of the Worth monument. As 
 all men know, this stands at Broadway and 
 Twentieth Street, bearing a small equestrian 
 figure of the hero on the south and on the 
 north an arm mailed and bowed, holding a 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 47 
 
 bronze sabre. But the blade is gone these 
 many years. What became of it? 
 
 I recollect a seated statue of the donor 
 of a certain building, which was at first 
 placed facing it, only a few feet away. Sub- 
 sequently, the proprieties seemed to dictate 
 to someone in authority that the statue's 
 back should be turned to his gift, and his 
 face to the recipient town. Which was ac- 
 cordingly done. 
 
 February ig. S. In a revival either of 
 learning, manners or religion, the bringing 
 of fresh fuel to the fire is frequently mistak- 
 en for an enlargement of the hearth. 
 
 Gray's Elegy is probably the first great 
 poem wherein the peasant is brought into 
 the foreground. He had figured largely as 
 a setting for the noble, as his henchman, ser- 
 vitor, or admirer. In fact, for a long time 
 the villager was as essential to a tale of high 
 life as a piece of water to a landscape; that 
 he might reflect what was above him. But 
 Gray makes him the principal figure, and 
 treats his occupations, diversions and inter- 
 ests from the outside, it is true, but with a se- 
 dulous attention unexampled until then. The 
 poet himself, and the kindred spirit who 
 might inquire his fate, are treated as the ac- 
 cessories; literally, they are the walking gen- 
 tlemen of the piece. This was one of Miss 
 Austen's weakest points — that she could only 
 draw the lower class as domestic servants, 
 and but indifferently at that. There has been 
 
48 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 a mighty change In this matter since Gray's 
 time; the gentleman has been attrited, the 
 artisan elaborated. But he was the pioneer 
 in the movement, the discoverer of the lowly 
 and grimy coal, which was ultimately to turn 
 out so many more pot-boUers than the fair 
 and stately trees of the forest could ever 
 have furnished with sufficient fuel. 
 
 February 20. The phenomenon known as 
 "freezing dry" has been many times ob- 
 served this cold weather. The Ice on the 
 front porch, hard and black on Tuesday, be- 
 gins to look whitish underneath, Wednesday, 
 as If pried away from the planks a little. 
 Thursday, the edges begin to break Into bays 
 and coves. Friday, only a few ribs and ridges 
 remain. Saturday, they are all gone, like a 
 scrawl wiped off a slate. And meanwhile no 
 thaw. 
 
 February 21. Probably the venal voter Is 
 more In evidence now than at one time In the 
 Republic's history — a vulgar antithesis to the 
 conscientious Mugwump. A neighbor has 
 suggested a remedy, which If not Immediate- 
 ly practical seems at any rate worthy of con- 
 sideration. This consists In the buying up of 
 such voters, once for all, by the Federal or 
 State Government, for a lump sum — say, 
 $50.00 per head. Every person so selling, 
 would be. Ipso facto, disfranchised for life 
 and officially registered as such. Addlckses 
 would thus be deprived of their following, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 49 
 
 and bribery confined to legislative halls. 
 Probably any one who would sell his vote at 
 all would sell it to the Government, for a 
 sum to equal which would require a dozen 
 years chaffering. The advantages of this 
 plan are obvious and great, and Its cost 
 would be soon repaid. 
 
 February 22. Children sliding down the 
 streets have never been so numerous or im- 
 pudent as this year. The long continued 
 frost has made almost every part of the town 
 available for the sport. On Hassert Street, 
 a few days ago, I noticed how the ice had 
 piled up ; not only the sky-fall, but the slops 
 thrown from the houses had congealed, and 
 burled gutter and sidewalk out of sight. If 
 these conditions prevailed the year round, 
 many a house would be entombed in its own 
 filth. 
 
 The innate corruption and depravity of 
 human nature were perhaps never more 
 clearly brought out than in the historic Black 
 Hole of Calcutta. That atrocity stands un- 
 rivalled as an Instance of the utmost suffer- 
 ing humanity can endure, passed through by 
 a large number, yet leaving a few survivors 
 to tell the tale. Many more have been slain 
 or executed at one time, death being antici- 
 pated; but probably only safe keeping of the 
 prisoners was Intended, and only fear of 
 breaking a despot's sleep prevented their 
 earlier release. Yet this torture, "unequaled 
 In history or fiction, whose record cannot be 
 
50 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 read unmoved after the lapse of a hundred 
 and fifty years", was produced merely by 
 crowding men together in an ill ventilated 
 room. No fires, racks, or scourges were 
 needed; all that was done or required to be 
 done was to take from each the amount of 
 air and space to which he was accustomed, 
 crush him into close proximity with his fel- 
 lows, and the thing was accomplished. 
 
 February 2j. Finished splitting the winter's 
 rails — about sixty. Have never been able 
 to determine whether they split best from top 
 or butt. Sometimes one succeeds, sometimes 
 the other. In splitting posts the usual plan 
 is for the men to face each other, one slowly 
 advancing while the other backs away, and 
 the blow of each into the cleft loosening his 
 partner's axe. Some years ago, as two 
 brothers were thus engaged, one of them got 
 a little too close, and the descending blade 
 just grazed his forehead, knocking him down 
 and leaving an ugly gash. Another inch 
 would have split his skull. 
 
 February 2^. Pigeons are very persistent 
 bathers. Whenever the horse-trough is left 
 uncovered, a cheesy white scum shows they 
 have been there; and one bitter cold day 
 when the plumbers turned a stream from the 
 pipe they were repairing into an icy hollow 
 the pigeons flew down and began plunging 
 into the freezing pool. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 51 
 
 February 2^. I do not know that 
 the process of milking has ever been 
 described. The forefinger first clasps 
 the upper part of the teat, and then 
 the middle, ring, and little fingers in 
 rapid succession, so as to drive the milk be- 
 fore them through the orifice. The knack is 
 rather dif^cult to acquire, and at first very 
 wearying to the hands; though this soon 
 passes. 
 
 Some form of green feed for milch cows 
 In winter was long a desideratum, but the 
 need Is now fairly well supplied by ensilage, 
 which, as every one knows, is some kind of 
 fodder, generally green corn, cut up and 
 packed under pressure, which preserves It in 
 a certain state of fermentation, very like 
 sauer-kraut. The process was first applied 
 to the tops of beets, which It seemed pity to 
 waste, and which kept in pits fairly well for a 
 few weeks. I cannot say that my experience 
 with silage has been favorable, but then I 
 am not a progressive. Roots do fairly well 
 for a few cows, and do not require a large 
 force at once, or a special building for their 
 reception. Sugar beets or mangels are best; 
 turnips will do, but do not keep so well, and 
 give the milk an unpleasant taste. Root cut- 
 ters are on the market, but the one we used 
 lost a tooth now and then, which falling 
 among the beets, was like to choke the cows. 
 So for years we have sliced them up prlme- 
 vally with a knife or sharp spade. In Eng- 
 land — see Hardy's "Tess" — they smash 
 
52 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 them up, turnips at least, with a heavy mal- 
 let, placing them one by one in a small hollow 
 dug out of the top of a wooden block. Car- 
 rots are best of all, but too expensive, and 
 hard to keep. 
 
 February 26. S. A drift has been over 
 one panel of the fence near the woods for 
 just a month, so little has it thawed during 
 the last thirty days. 
 
 February 2J. In summer, when windows 
 are open, I can tell how the chores go on at 
 the barn by the sound of the different doors 
 opening and shutting. But in winter "be- 
 yond these voices there is peace". The cries 
 of inanimate objects, save under great stress, 
 as in the frost-blow mentioned above, are 
 stilled. Ice furnishes an admirable lubricant 
 for hinges, when it will let them turn 
 at all, and a still more admirable wedge to 
 prevent banging. The tool that falls in snow, 
 the foot that treads in snow, are alike muf- 
 fled. The stock do not need so much water, 
 and the pump, in consequence, has little to 
 do. The wagon wheels, swelled and cush- 
 ioned by damp, cease to give forth their dis- 
 tinctive creakings, and the sled is noiseless. 
 The animals also are mostly mute. The pig- 
 eon's claws do not clatter on the roof, nor 
 are their cooings heard from the ridge. The 
 fowls no longer chuckle, or cackle, or cluck. 
 Only the valiant cock will crow until starva- 
 tion and high thinking, is reached. Cats and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 53 
 
 dogs cease to express their pleasure or pain, 
 lowing and neighing and squalling are well 
 nigh forgotten. The animals stand for an 
 hour together in one place instead of the con- 
 stant stamping and shifting induced by the 
 flies. Only once a month or so will an aval- 
 anche of corn, undermined at one end, pour 
 down in the crib, or melting snow, with a 
 very similar sound, go sliding off a steep 
 
 roof. 
 
 « 
 
 1 
 
 February 28. On averaging the sunrise 
 temperature of the month, which I have kept 
 for many years, I find this to be the coldest 
 February since 1875; just thirty years. This 
 year averaged (taking only early morning 
 temperatures) thirteen degrees. 
 
 Should have trimmed grape vines today; 
 have done it for many years on Feb. 28. 
 
 Of course the method of taking tempera- 
 tures mentioned above is open to objection. 
 If every afternoon and evening were mild, 
 and only the morning sharp (a thing not like- 
 ly, but possible) the month, as a whole, 
 might show a high average. 
 
 The imperfection of standards is striking- 
 ly illustrated by the frequent practice of put- 
 ting a human figure beside the thing depicted, 
 for comparison. While this is the most feas- 
 ible way of getting at the size of many ob- 
 jects,' — trees for example — it is liable to 
 abuse on the advertising page. There, if you 
 want the goods offered, or the advantages at- 
 tained, as a horse or a string of fish, to ap- 
 
54 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 pear large, put a small man beside — if it is 
 desirable they should appear small, as the 
 folding boat from which the fish are taken, 
 put a large man beside. The counterfeit pre- 
 sentment of a bright and pretty girl has sold 
 many a sewing machine; and that of a tall 
 handsome man helped off much whiskey and 
 cigars. Not that grief, misfortune, wounds, 
 and penury are absent from the advertising 
 sheet; but they are always traceable to one of 
 two causes — either a refusal to purchase any 
 goods whatever, or a mistaken purchase of 
 the other fellow's goods. 
 
 March i. The perfection of art is to con- 
 ceal art, the perfection of riding to be car- 
 ried without much thinking about it; the per- 
 fection of digestion is not to know that you 
 have one, and so the perfection of life may 
 be not to feel, through the senses, that wc 
 live. 
 
 March 2. Let evil end with you. Do not 
 pass on the scandal, the doubt, the injustice, 
 the abuse you have received. Moral gar- 
 bage, thus consumed, shall lighten your 
 neighborhood, instead of cumbering and de- 
 filing it. 
 
 March j. Fox-fire has been unusually 
 prevalent this year. Generally it appears on 
 a white oak stump, which has decayed from 
 within, so that the whole interior glows like 
 a crucible. At times it seems to vibrate and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 55 
 
 change like the Northern Lights on a small 
 scale, but it is difficult to be sure of this. 
 
 March 4. The following conversation 
 was heard between two young people in a 
 trolley car passing Ross Hall, an old time 
 building up the river, now the Golf House. 
 He — "That was the home of Janice Mere- 
 dith". She— "Who was she?" He— "Oh, a 
 Revolutionary character." She — "She must 
 be a very old lady by now." He — "Oh, she 
 was a creation of the brain of Paul Ford, the 
 millionaire was killed by his brother last 
 Spring." She— "Is that so?" He— "So, you 
 see, she never lived at all." She — "Oh, the 
 poor thing!" 
 
 In the above dialogue, it is doubtful which 
 stood first with the narrator; Ford's talent, 
 his fate, or his wealth. 
 
 How few authors have lived by their 
 works until they were dead ! Homer proba- 
 bly did it, and perhaps Kipling; and Pope, 
 and Dumas. But Dante was a hanger-on, 
 and so, was Horace, and so was La Fontaine. 
 Petrarch was a titular canon. Burns an excise 
 man, ditto Wordsworth. Thomson under 
 secretary to the Leeward Islands, wherein he 
 never set foot. Hook treasurer at the Mau- 
 ritius. Gibbon had, for a short time, a place 
 under government, and Congreve had too, 
 for a long time. Spenser was secretary to 
 the deputy lieutenant of Ireland. Nay, is it 
 not said that a certain prominent American 
 man of letters was given a counsulship at 
 
S6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Venice because he wrote a campaign life of 
 the successful candidate? Voltaire died rich, 
 stock-jobbing was his line, and he seems to 
 have kept what he got. Even the few writ- 
 ers whose pens have really been golden ones, 
 like Scott and Tupper, (their only slmlllar- 
 ity) seem generally to have been beguiled in- 
 to taking stock In the publishing company 
 which sent forth their works, with results the 
 most disastrous. Of no other profession can 
 It be said that two members of it as distin- 
 guished as Spenser and Otway died, the one 
 for lack of bread, the other from Its super- 
 abundance. 
 
 March 5. S. The blackbirds are begin- 
 ning to drift to and fro. In moving they go 
 westward, presumably to Bear Swamp some 
 twenty miles away. In evening eastward 
 again to spend the night on the salt marshes. 
 They fly In large flocks of two or three hun- 
 dred each, for the most part very compactly, 
 but there are always a few stragglers, striv- 
 ing to keep up and chirping dismally. They 
 rush over with a loud "hoosh" thick 'as rip- 
 ples on a pond. 
 
 March 6. Our County-seat is what has 
 been called a "wooden town". The great 
 majority of the houses are frame, perhaps 
 one In ten brick; and only three stone ones. 
 On the road to Bound Brook there are four 
 or five more, built from the best and hardest 
 of the native shale. One of these, said to 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 57 
 
 have been occupied by Lafayette in days of 
 yore, is stone to the eaves, roof and gables 
 of wood, the thickness of the wall covered 
 over with plank, forming a bulk seat across 
 the end chambers, light half length hewn raf- 
 ters mortised into girts, and a little three slat 
 hole in the upper corner of each solid shut- 
 ter. 
 
 March 7. Holing posts. Partly with au- 
 ger, partly with post axe. This last is a little 
 tool with a blade about two inches wide. 
 With this one pecks away at top and bottom 
 of the place marked on the flattened side of 
 the post until two little slits are cut through, 
 when the piece between is knocked out. Per- 
 haps no implement so well illustrates the sar- 
 castic inquiry made by the old chopper of the 
 novice, "Kin ye hit two times in three 
 places"? 
 
 The auger is less likely to split the posts 
 than the axe above described, and leaves a 
 neater hole, but it is harder work, and cannot 
 be done at all when the log is frozen, as the 
 ice soon chokes the screw. 
 
 March 8. Wit consists in the discovery 
 of dissimilarities in things apparently alike; 
 humor, in the perception of likenesses in mat- 
 ters seemingly different. The first is cold and 
 sharp; the second warm and mild. The one 
 seeks antitheses; the other analogies. Wit 
 cuts, humor joins. Wit is a gunbarrel, hu- 
 mor a hose-pipe. Wit makes admiring ene- 
 mies, humor, contemptuous friends. A wit 
 
58 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 never thinks himself a fool; a humorist of- 
 ten doubts his wisdom. Mephistopheles had 
 plenty of wit; it belongs to the "freundlich 
 Element", but a water drinking saint may be 
 a rare humorist. Wit is natural to a woman 
 as a hat-pin, but few females wield the club 
 of humor. Dignity is the garb of wit, as 
 brevity its soul; humor goes barefoot and 
 ungirt, as Gamelyn, dealing much in circum- 
 locutions. Wit may rebuke a king; humor 
 jests with a clown. Wit is of the town and 
 the covert; humor of the field and the ale- 
 house. Wit Is a spur, humor a peck of oats. 
 And yet, with all these differences, so much 
 do they at times Include and resemble each 
 other, that both may be found packed togeth- 
 er In the title of one small State — Connecti- 
 cut. 
 
 March g. I remember a cedar and maple 
 growing as close together as if they sprang 
 from the same root. Some thirty-five or six 
 years ago they were about twenty feet in 
 height and the maple was probably about the 
 same number of years old; the cedar twice as 
 much. The maple Is now twice that height, 
 and Its desperate efforts to straighten killed 
 the cedar (round which It takes a complete 
 turn) and flattened itself grotesquely. 
 
 March lo. First spring-like day. In even- 
 ing smelt a muskrat. This and the skunk 
 cabbage are the first scents of spring and it 
 is curious they should both be unpleasant 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 59 
 
 ones. Have never yet seen a musk-rat, long 
 as I have lived here, and often as I have 
 smelt him, the 'possum is much more famil- 
 iar, being now and then found in outlying 
 town houses. This last animal has been de- 
 scibed as a mix up of bear, hog, and monkey. 
 This has been a profitless winter in the way 
 of work; little done beyond cutting wood, 
 breaking paths and keeping alive. 
 
 March 11. Cutting at a stump today, I 
 reached a httle too far, and, striking on top 
 of the stump, split the axe helve from end to 
 end. I kept at work, however, and at last 
 cut through the root with the crippled tool, 
 swinging it by the fibres. It reminded me of 
 Umslopogaas' mace, described by Rider 
 Haggard, wherewith he was able to do great 
 execution because the handle was flexible. 
 
 The Novel, some few sports and freaks 
 excepted. Is an annual plant. Fine biennials 
 are known, and even perennials, though these 
 last, when closely examined, will generally be 
 found to have thrown out a kind of sucker or 
 layer, which maintains an independent exis- 
 tence after the parent stock has perished. 
 But as a rule, they are growths of one sea- 
 son. 
 
 The old-fashioned romance, indeed, ran 
 its course with the season's vegetation, 
 springing up in April or May, blooming in 
 summer, and ending in September; while per- 
 haps the majority of modern novels do bet- 
 ter under glass from Fall to Spring; still, 
 
6o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 their average time of thrift remains much 
 the same in length, viz. from six to nine 
 months. The briefest bloomer of celebrity 
 is perhaps Ivanhoe, the time occupied in the 
 actions of that novel being little more than 
 three weeks. The Antiquary covers about a 
 month, July 15th to August loth. Craw- 
 ford's "Cigarette Maker's Romance", the 
 cress and mustard literature, covers only 
 four and twenty hours. "The Heart of Mid 
 Lothian" and "Old Mortality" are so to 
 speak, resurrection plants — burgeoning 
 some three months, then closing for a long 
 term of years, and anon blooming out once 
 more for a week or two. "Joseph Vance" 
 and its like are not plants, but trees. 
 
 March 12. S. Yesterday began pulling 
 down lean-to of the barn at Clifton. The 
 door of this building is made of planks 
 which, from their markings, evidently once 
 formed the case of a picture sent from 
 France to a Philadelphia dealer on the S. S. 
 Normania. Pried off the roof as a whole; 
 dizzy work. 
 
 Probably most persons on a height are 
 more or less ill at ease. A stationary height 
 that is; for by all accounts the prentice sailor 
 soon recovered from his qualms in this re- 
 spect, a result only to be accounted for by 
 the ship's independent life and motion. The 
 weakness may perhaps be overcome by early 
 and determined effort; it is said that Goethe 
 cured himself of it, when a youth, by sitting 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 6i 
 
 aloft in Strassburg spire, where the chimes 
 seemed to make the structure vibrate and 
 swing, but success In this line must ever re- 
 main doubtful. The actual or apparent re- 
 volts set up by various parts of the human 
 frame divine — the insurgency of those or- 
 gans whose existence wc would ever choose 
 to forget: The sudden anxiety of brain and 
 eye for a merry waltz, the determined re- 
 solve of feet to become hands, almost burst- 
 ing their shoes In the effort to gripe a suppo- 
 sitious branch — all these cannot but con- 
 found the constitution's well ordered feder- 
 ahty, and probably to feel secure on the out- 
 side of a dome one must have either wings 
 like birds or roots like hair. Memory still 
 pictures that unhappy youth once seen walk- 
 ing round the circle of St. Paul's, holding 
 his hat before his face, and groaning, "Oh, 
 why did I come up here?" 
 
 Little has been done in literature with 
 roofs; those places whereon, as good Jeremy 
 Taylor salth, "the footing Is slight, the pros- 
 pect vertiginous, and the devil busy, and de- 
 sirous to thrust us headlong". Not to dwell 
 further on the instance thus adverted to, nor 
 yet on David's promenade, perhaps the most 
 notable success In this sort is Hugo's "Notre 
 Dame". The illusion of being high In the 
 air (but by no means the nearer heaven on 
 that account ) is wondrously caught and kept 
 in this story. While perhaps less than half 
 the action takes place aloft, nearly all of it 
 seems to do so; wc rebound like balls to the 
 
62 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 level which has come to seem our natural 
 habitat. The death of Jehan over the door- 
 way, that of Claud by falling from the tow- 
 er, seem like those of sailors who end their 
 duty or their mutiny by the chances of the 
 ship whereon their lives have been spent; 
 while Esmeralda's mother, the anchoress, is 
 a barnacle on its side. That once popular 
 author, George Macdonald, has a very good 
 description of two children astray on a 
 church roof in "Wilfred Cumbermede". 
 The chapter was widely copied as a scene of 
 adventure, without respect to the rest of the 
 tale, but though elaborate and ingenious, it 
 lacked Hugo's well mastered giddiness. 
 
 March /j. With warm and drying days 
 appear those little whirlwinds known in Eng- 
 land, according to Haggard, as ^'Roger's 
 blasts" or "Fairies going to court". From 
 two to six feet in diameter, they rush across 
 the fields, whirling up dust and dead grass, 
 and sometimes breaking into quite a roar 
 when they strike a mass of leaves. The per- 
 sistence of these baby tornadoes is wonder- 
 ful. One that I well remember, not more 
 than a yard across, passed over a field, and 
 entered the woods, where I looked to see it 
 soon broken up and stilled, but, with marvel- 
 ous vitality, it passed among and through the 
 tree trunks and after enduring for a hundred 
 yards or more, went down a hillside and out 
 upon the pond, still whirling from left to 
 right like a watch. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 63 
 
 March 14. Was It Person who went 
 from Dante to beer shop crying "All is bar- 
 ren"? 
 
 March 75. A farmer in this country is 
 more or less an object of contempt to town's 
 people. It was not always so, if one may 
 trust the books. In "Doctor Thorne" Trol- 
 lope represents the young men from Barches- 
 ter pretending to be laborers on the estate in 
 order to get to the squire's picnic. But now 
 a mill-hand considers himself better than a 
 farmer, ipso factory. Even when people 
 want to be friendly with a tiller of the soil, 
 it may be observed that they generally begin 
 by asking if he finds farming pays; a ques- 
 tion they would never dream of putting to a 
 man of any other occupation. 
 
 This sinking of the farmer in general es- 
 teem is the more remarkable in view of the 
 rise of sundry once despised occupations, e. 
 g., nurse and scavenger. But apparently the 
 agriculturist has inherited the contempt once 
 bestowed on the rising serf and the falling 
 squire. 
 
 The nurses of history and of ancient fic- 
 tion, were mostly in charge of infants, not in- 
 valids. Such was the case with Sichaeus* 
 nurse, appealed to by Dido (hers being 
 dead) and Juliet's safe mentor. Helena, In 
 "Much Ado about Nothing" rather plays 
 the part of doctress than nurse, and we have 
 not the sex of the attendant appealed to by 
 Charles IX, of France, when in extremis, 
 
64 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 and remorseful for St. Bartholomew; Mrs. 
 Rooke, or Nurse Rooke, in "Persuasion" 
 has a sHghtly modern smack; but she is kept 
 much in the background, and is chiefly use- 
 ful as a gossip. 
 
 No list of this kind were complete without 
 mention of the great Sairey Gamp, full of 
 humors as her own umbrella of packages. 
 Severe criticism has been visited on her tip- 
 pling and pilfering, but with it all she 
 brought her patient through, and who can do 
 more? Perhaps the profession reached its 
 nadir about i860, when (as I have seen with 
 my own eyes) female convicts from the Pen- 
 itentiary were employed as nurses in some of 
 the great city hospitals. Since then, the 
 change in income, demeanor, and costume of 
 the trained nurse has been marvellous, and to 
 what is it destined to grow? 
 
 March 16. Scene of a little tragedy. On 
 a bit of ground plowed last fall, a sprinkle 
 of small feathers showed where a pigeon had 
 been devoured. That it had been done by a 
 hawk, not a crow, was shown by the few ker- 
 nels of corn, which the bird's crop had con- 
 tained, lying untouched. 
 
 Found a nest containing three young rab- 
 bits in the field. The mother selecting a small 
 hollow, deposits her young therein, first lin- 
 ing it with fur plucked from her own coat, 
 and covering all over with a bunch of the 
 same. So long as the grass, or rather weeds, 
 stood they were well protected, but mower 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 6s 
 
 and rake had both passed over, carried away 
 the crop, and done no further harm beyond 
 dragging the fur to one side, thus giving a 
 clue to the nursery. I looked in at them, then 
 introduced a finger. Until this was done, 
 they were still as if dead, but soon as the 
 touch of alien flesh was felt they began suc- 
 cessively to kick with startling violence. Too 
 young to run, (they were about the size of 
 large mice, and probably but a day or two 
 old,) this must have been to terrify the in- 
 tending captor. The coat was thick, and 
 rather darker than the adult's; ears, paws, 
 and tail yellow and bare; the eyes closed like 
 those of young kittens. Covering them up, 
 I departed, but when last seen they were try- 
 ing to kick off the blanket. Their fate seems 
 very uncertain. Such choice morsels for dog, 
 crow, or hawk can hardly escape. Seemingly 
 they would have been safer in the thicket 
 close by, but I suppose maternal instinct may 
 be trusted. 
 
 March ly. Saw chicken hawk in flight 
 which suggests the motion of an automobile. 
 No flapping, no soaring but a series of quick, 
 explosive beats of the wings, each sending 
 the bird forward in a leap of several yards. 
 The flicker gives five strokes, then a jump. 
 
 March i8. Heard a woodpecker, tapping 
 the trees in the high woods. How strangely 
 he is constructed! If we chopped our teeth 
 on a stick loud enough to be heard a hundred 
 
66 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 feet off, at the end of an hour jaws and gums 
 would be so sore we could not bear it. But 
 the woodpecker seems to suffer no inconven- 
 ience. 
 
 March ig. S. Ice has pretty well gone 
 off the pond, and the phenomenon of tides 
 in the cove again appears. This is a little 
 bay from the pond, about twenty-five feet 
 wide by a hundred long, and no where more 
 than two feet deep, mostly much less. It is 
 fed by a small but constant stream from the 
 uplands. For half to three-quarters of a 
 minute, the water flows out of this cove, 
 swaying the weeds, and carrying the silt 
 along, then it stops, and flows inward again; 
 a regular tide, proportioned to the water's 
 size. I have never been able to determine 
 the cause of this movement. The brook 
 seems too small to affect it in such a way, the 
 pumping station too far off. 
 
 March 20. There are two trees on Rid- 
 er's Lane whose union I have watched for 
 nearly forty years. As I first remember 
 them, a small branch grew horizontally from 
 one, just touching the stem of the other, and 
 projecting some feet beyond. This, after 
 fretting the bark of the tree it did not belong 
 to for some years, finally grew into it, joining 
 the two; then the part beyond decayed and 
 fell off, leaving a short tie; then this also 
 rotted and disappeared, and now there mere- 
 ly remains a big scar, or callous, on each 
 tree, almost meeting. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 67 
 
 March 21. The process above described 
 may be better noticed In a beech on our lawn, 
 where a short branch, green and sound, firm- 
 ly joins two large limbs together. The 
 beech's thin bark and vigorous growth favor 
 such Inarching, which may be observed still 
 oftener In its roots. The impressions pro- 
 duced by this tree are very different. Some 
 have termed it the lady of the woods, and 
 Indeed Its smooth and graceful arms, with 
 their thousand spindle-like buds, might seem 
 to be reaching forth to what was so long the 
 peculiar task of women. On the other hand, 
 Spenser calls it "the warrior beech," and Col- 
 lins speaks of Sport's "beechen spear". Cer- 
 tainly when a straight beech sapling has been 
 found (no easy thing) its weight, stiffness 
 and strength would well befit a spear st^ff, 
 while the thin smooth bark would make 
 much shaving down needless. 
 
 March 22. An old man came last night 
 wanting to sleep in the barn. He refused all 
 pecuniary or alimentary assistance, com- 
 pared himself to Him who had not where to 
 lay his head, and was so very pressing that I 
 finally acquiesced, ushered him into the cow- 
 loft, gave him a horse blanket or two, put a 
 lock on the hen-house door, close beside, and 
 passed a restless night myself, reflecting, 
 among other things, that he might die there, 
 and necessitate a visit to the coroner. How- 
 ever, I saw him go off early while I was 
 dressing. There was another ancient hermit 
 
68 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 of this neighborhood who used to go about 
 In a greenish coat girded with rope, and was 
 said to have slept all one winter In a burrow 
 under a haystack. I can well understand the 
 comfort of such primitive lodgings to a per- 
 son who cared not for certain mouldlness, 
 probable rats or possible fire. 
 
 March 2j. The work of milking Is one of 
 those jobs which women have completely 
 shuffled off upon the men. For many cen- 
 turies this seems to have been their peculiar 
 province, at a time, too, when the milkmaid 
 had to go after the cows. But never but once 
 in my life did I see a woman milking, and I 
 Imagine this is generally the case in the 
 Northern and Western states. Haggard 
 says it Is the same In England. Harris, an 
 agricultural writer of thirty years back, 
 states that in Canada the women did the 
 milking at that time ; but I presume they have 
 changed all that. The consequence is, that 
 cows are so unused to the sight of women 
 that if one by chance comes near them, they 
 grow frightened or angry, even to the point 
 of attacking her. 
 
 March 24. Working at the demolition of 
 Clifton barn today, saw two flocks of wild 
 geese go over. Never before have I wit- 
 nessed their Northern migration. The first 
 gang, of about a dozen, went straight on 
 their course, high up In thick gray clouds, 
 uttering that "honk", "honk" so easy to rec- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOlC 69 
 
 dgnlze, so hard to imitate. A few minutes 
 later came another flock, some eighteen or 
 twenty, evidently too large for their leader 
 to manage. They disappeared to the north, 
 but must have taken a great turn, for five 
 minutes after they were right over head, 
 tending south. When almost disappearfng 
 I saw them swirl and scatter like splashed 
 water, then form again and bear up north- 
 ward, as if they had got their bearings from 
 the river, which at that point must have been 
 just below them. While thus boxing the com- 
 pass they flew quite low within gunshot. 
 
 March 2^. Many are the idiosyncracies 
 of animals. Some horses are afraid of a 
 dog, some of a bit of paper, some of a bear, 
 some of a car. I have known two mules to 
 shy at a big yellow cucumber on a fence, and 
 a cow we formerly owned could not endure 
 to see any man's hat removed. First frogs. 
 
 The oldest trick recorded of a riding ani- 
 mal is that of Balaam's ass, who tried to 
 crush its rider's foot against the wall. Bit- 
 ing, pawing, and bolting are also described 
 in the Scriptures. A balky team figures in 
 Esop and Chaucer. That the horses of the 
 Saracens used to shy is shown by the tradi- 
 tional inquiry "if they thought King Rich- 
 ard was in that bush"? This same balking, 
 or jibbing, in all its varieties is one of the 
 most aggravating of vices. I have in mind 
 one horse who, when he thought himself 
 overloaded, would rear higher and higher, 
 
70 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 and finally throw himself down on his side. 
 That he never broke a leg in this proceeding 
 was wonderful. Others will stand shuffling 
 and shivering, and finally give a spring, 
 breaking the weakest part of their harness — 
 whiffletree, trace, tug, or hame-strap. Some- 
 times changing sides, or even changing di- 
 rection will put the notion out of the brute's 
 head; and he will go off as if nothing had 
 happened. However, no trick makes the 
 driver feel more helpless than violent back- 
 ing; one loses all control over the horse, and 
 can do nothing but lay on the whip. 
 
 March 26. S. When visiting some parts 
 of the timber, I have not seen for a while, a 
 welcome rises from the long neglected 
 woods. 
 
 March 27. Tearing down an old shed, 
 noticed how the nail, pin or stud, which was 
 once meant to hold up a plank, is now upheld 
 by it, like an ancient rite or custom whose 
 use has departed, but is still practised 
 through habit, precedent, or superstition. 
 Tennyson has noted this in Mariana. 
 
 "The rusted nails fell from the knots 
 That held the peach to the garden wall". 
 
 March 28. Very warm. For the first 
 time this year we sat with windows open. 
 How soon one condemns and forgets, stoves, 
 overcoats, furs, and the like, rejoicing in that 
 solar heat which will shortly be too great. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 71 
 
 March 2g. Ploughed a strip for peas. 
 The first furrow is an epoch in the year. 
 Though you ploughed the field the last of 
 November, it is not the same; frost has been 
 at work, and merged the furrows together. 
 After three months rest the plough has to be 
 diligently scraped from adhering rust dur- 
 ing three or four bouts. A spot in the mid- 
 dle of the mold board generally holds out 
 last, with a streak of earth streaming from 
 it, like the geological crag and tail. At last 
 this slips away, the furrow slice runs off 
 clean, and the plough breast flashes like 
 Lancelot's shield. 
 
 When iron mold-boards first came In, it 
 was claimed that they poisoned the land. It 
 is difficult to see how this notion could have 
 arisen, unless that when clay was plowed 
 while too wet, the metal would plaster or 
 puddle the furrow-slice more completely. 
 Certainly the dirt would adhere In greater 
 quantity to the wood, leaving more to be 
 scraped off at the turning; thereby produc- 
 ing those huge banks of earth which Jessopp 
 describes along the Norfolk headlands, piled 
 up by the accretions of five hundred years or 
 more. That old fashioned member of long 
 measure, the furlong, or furrow-long (660 
 feet) was supposed to Indicate the distance 
 a team could plow without stopping to 
 breathe, and therefore, approximately, the 
 breadth of a field; though It Is evident that a 
 more variant unit could hardly be devised. 
 The old plan of harnessing the plow-horses 
 
72 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 tandem, and having a boy to drive themV 
 while of great convenience in the matter of 
 keeping the furrow, and saving harness, 
 must have been uncommonly hard on the 
 rear animal, who, at the turn, would have to 
 pull the plow for a time alone, without the 
 help of his mates. We only see tandems 
 now at the two extremes of society — the 
 Horse Show, and the tow-path. 
 
 March jo. Planted peas. We have of- 
 ten done this on St. Patrick's day, but this 
 year the season is unusually late. The seed 
 must be covered deeply to keep it from the 
 birds. Crows do not seem to care for peas, 
 but fowls and pigeons do. The latter would 
 soon make away with the planting if they 
 could dig; but their weak little pink feet are 
 incapable of scratching. 
 
 Whether orchards should be kept in grass 
 or not — whether it is worth while to try and 
 raise hoed crops under young trees — have 
 long been debated questions. On the whole, 
 I doubt the wisdom of the latter practice, 
 unless one's portion of land is so small that 
 one can fling the hoe across it. I have seen 
 fine strawberries and asparagus, and nearly 
 all sorts of vegetables grown under young 
 apples trees; but the roots get in the way of 
 the truck, and the bark gets in the way of the 
 blade, and if horse or plow are to be brought 
 in, few workers will do justice to high and 
 low alike. If the trees are trimmed up so 
 that a horse can go under them, that is too 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 73 
 
 high for their good; and if they are not, the 
 horse will trample the crop. Then, if the 
 soil is kept loose, a strong wind is apt to blow 
 the trees over when heavily laden with fruit 
 and leaf. Nothing can be more dishearten- 
 ing than this, and to avert it you let the grass 
 grow in the rows ; it rapidly spreads out, and 
 soon you think it will do to grow one row of 
 truck between each row of trees. Soon after 
 this determination has been reached, the or- 
 chard gets entirely into sod. 
 
 The young orchard once in sod, what shall 
 be done with it? "Be careful, my friend, not 
 to cut and carry away that hay", says one 
 writer. This means that either the hay must 
 be cut and left on the ground, which seems 
 a cruel pity, and exposes you to the great evil 
 of mulch, its harborage of vermin and in- 
 sects, or else the grass must be pastured 
 down. Pigs root up the ground in a slovenly 
 manner, are themselves unpleasing to look 
 upon, and need the tightest kind of fencing 
 to keep them in. Cows, yet more horses, 
 will gnaw and break small trees, and when 
 they begin fruiting, develop the most as- 
 tounding capacity for stretching their necks 
 to reach apples no larger than grapes. Sheep, 
 perhaps, are the ideal pasturers, but sheep In 
 New Jersey are practically unattainable. The 
 dogs have got the upper paw to such an ex- 
 tent that no one tries to reverse the position. 
 So the cattle are turned into the orchard for 
 a little while in spring and late fall, and the 
 grass goes down before the rapid encroach- 
 
74 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ments of weeds and briers, among which the 
 apples are hard to find, and by which tres- 
 passers are heartened to "think the fruit was 
 wild". 
 
 March j/. Burnt some dead grass off 
 foot of garden. This is very soon affected 
 by evening dew. As soon as the sun goes 
 down grass dampens, and the fire will not 
 run. The time for burning over the salt 
 meadows ends legally with March; and in 
 years gone by we used to see the Eastern 
 horizon glowing with the meadow fires for 
 the last ten days of the month. Of course, 
 the heavy sedge and three-square are not so 
 much affected by damp as the fine grass 
 above mentioned. 
 
 This is a comfortable month for the farm- 
 er. As a writer in Am. Agriculturist has 
 said, 
 
 "The sun may be tricky an' fitful. 
 The wind it may blister an' parch. 
 The mud may be up to your boot-tops. 
 But the best of the months is ol' March. 
 Then farmers has some little measure 
 Of comfort, an' that sort o' thing; 
 So gimme the season, for pleasure, 
 When the frost's comin' out in the spring." 
 
 April I. Washing vehicles. This seems 
 labor thrown away during the winter, when 
 the wagon would be just as bad as ever after 
 going a hundred yards. So much accumulates 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 75 
 
 on the wheels during winter till they resem- 
 ble those of ancient chariots; but with April 
 washing is spasmodically renewed. One year, 
 living on a very sandy ifarm, and wishing to 
 set out a bed of Jucunda strawberries, which 
 are said to do best on clay land, we took the 
 vehicles to a spot near the barnyard on re- 
 turning from each trip over the clay roads, 
 and pounded them with sticks. By spring 
 there was a heap of the desired soil, which 
 we dug into the bed. 
 
 April 2. S. As, in walking a rail, curb- 
 stone, or other narrow support, where care- 
 ful balance is required, the eye is generally 
 fixed on a point from six to eight feet ahead, 
 so in reading aloud, the eye is about that 
 number of words before the tongue. This 
 may be confirmed by observing readers 
 whose locution is from any cause defective, 
 when the word mispronounced usually takes 
 the shape of its sixth or eighth successor. 
 
 April J. Plowed asparagus bed. Diffi- 
 culty in going deep enough to turn the grass, 
 and shallow enough not to tear the aspara- 
 gus. It is the American way to bring the 
 plough into the garden. 
 
 **Long was the day of Old Sir Spade, 
 But now the arms to wield him fail.'' 
 
 In "Rob Roy" Andrew Fairservice is rep- 
 resented as "trenching up the sparry gra§s*\ 
 
76 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 I once repeated to Frank Cook, the English 
 boy before mentioned, the Italian proverb 
 "The plough has a point of iron, the spade 
 an edge of gold". "Oh", was his Gordian 
 reply, "Italians will say anything". 
 
 April 4. Sowed oats on Farfield. This 
 tract contains about six and a half acres, is 
 mostly a shaly clay, tending to gravelly loam 
 at the south end; had gone untilled for sev- 
 eral years, tumbling down to poor grass; was 
 broken up last year and planted with corn, 
 which made a small crop; was ploughed in 
 November, after the corn was off, and now, 
 despite the heavy snows of the past winter, 
 is hard and dry. Placing the bags of seed 
 oats in a line across the middle of the field, 
 I begin to sow, carrying about a peck at a 
 time in a tin pail. The cast is about eight 
 feet wide, and when, as now, the day is calm, 
 one can return on one's last track over the 
 field, and then move over a rod, or make for 
 a guidon pole placed on the other side. 
 When the wind blows, it is necessary always 
 to keep on the weather side of your cast, 
 and fling backhanded half the time. 
 
 To preserve balance one must deliver a 
 handful each time the left leg comes for- 
 ward; and accurately to spread the seed, the 
 hand must be opened slowly, as it comes 
 palm upward, so that the grain may scatter 
 in the air and still tumble outward, if at all, 
 after it strikes the earth. One can cover 
 about two acres an hour in this way; and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 77 
 
 though the work be monotonous, it is not 
 lonely, for beside the sower walk the men of 
 Anglia, and Galilee, and Egypt, and Harran. 
 
 April 5. V. followed me with the disk 
 harrow yesterday afternoon, at once cutting 
 up the field, and covering in the seed. The 
 above tool resembles a dozen dinner plates 
 of steel set on edge in a frame drawn by 
 horses. The axles being set by shifting lev- 
 ers slightly out of true. The above plates 
 cut directly into the soil, but lift obliquely 
 out of it, loosening up the land with great 
 rapidity, and turning the bricklike field into 
 a loose, mealy seed-bed. This should be fol- 
 lowed by the smoothing harrow, and that 
 again by the roller, but showers today make 
 it necessary to defer these finishing touches. 
 
 Porte Crayon, in one of his Southern 
 sketches in Harper's fifty years ago, de- 
 scribes and pictures an Old Virginia labor- 
 saving machine. The force and equipment 
 consisted of a man, a little darkey, and a 
 horse; a bag of seed, a harrow, a halter, and 
 a piece of rope some twelve feet long. The 
 horse being endowed with collar, traces, and 
 the aforesaid halter, the man hitched him to 
 the harrow with the rope, and then got upon 
 his back, facing the tail, and holding the bag 
 of seed in front of him. The little darkey 
 then led the horse back and forth across the 
 field at the proper lines, while the man scat- 
 tered from his bag the seed, which was im- 
 mediately covered by the advancing harrow. 
 
78 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 The advantages of this plan are great and 
 obvious. The seed Is covered at once, not 
 left exposed to birds and weather. The lit- 
 tle darkey is worked into a job he could 
 neither shirk nor neglect. The man has only 
 to cross the field once, and does not have to 
 carry the seed. The most overworked party 
 Is the horse, who has not only to drag the 
 harrow, but carry the man, and the seed as 
 well. But every device has Its drawbacks, 
 and this was certainly Ingenious. I say was, 
 for one may opine it did not survive the war. 
 
 April 6. Clover Is sown In wheat at about 
 the same time as oats. The process Is very 
 similar, except that the cast is narrower, and 
 instead of a handful of seed, only so much 
 Is taken as can be grasped with two fingers 
 and thumb. No man's eyes or ears have 
 much failed him as long as he can see and 
 hear the clover seed fall. 
 
 April 7. Getting up frame for new hen 
 house. This should have been done last 
 month, but the winter frosts struck so deep 
 that we are only just now able to set posts 
 in the ground. The same cause has pre- 
 vented the usual March mending of fence. 
 
 Saw a string of canal mules going to work. 
 The canal tow-path has, of course, nothing 
 to do with any part of the human foot 
 (though the other bank of the canal is some- 
 times called the heel-path) but referred to 
 the tow, or rope, by which the boat waj^ 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 79 
 
 dragged. When two boats meet, as most 
 people know, one driver slackens speed, and 
 lets his rope drag under the keel of the other 
 craft. Passenger canal-boats were not infre- 
 quent in the 40's and 50's, and must have 
 been pleasant enough, when the weather was 
 fine, and the traveller in no hurry. Gayly 
 painted, clean and commodious, and drawn 
 by sturdy animals, who mostly kept to a trot, 
 they probably attained twice the speed of the 
 freighters. Of those scenes little has come 
 down to us except the warning cry of "Low 
 Bridge!" still to be heard in jest, which, in 
 its day would cause the instant prostration of 
 the proudest and the fairest. Nor were 
 these humiliations confined to the human 
 race. It is said that a term on the canal 
 would break the spirit of the most intracta- 
 ble horse; it was the inevitable destination 
 of a hopelessly vicious brute, as the galleys 
 of a mediaeval reprobate, or the South of a 
 bad Virginia negro. 
 
 April 8. Getting home fertilizer (man- 
 ure) from manus, that which is applied by 
 the hand, as contrasted with old fashioned 
 dung, that which is flung or dashed down, 
 with or without implements, e. g. "Ding 
 down Tantallon", and for the past of this "I 
 hae dung down", "It was dung down", see 
 Scott, passim. 
 
 April 9. S. Saw first dandelions today. 
 Almost invariably the first bats appear at the 
 
8o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 same time. Apparently an equal level of 
 temperature agrees with both. I have noted 
 this for many years; but today the flitter- 
 mouse was not forth-coming; or, which is 
 much more likely, I was not on hand at the 
 proper time. 
 
 Few things could be less alike than the 
 flower and the flyer; yet the sun which rises 
 upon one descends upon the other. The 
 modern traveller (the heroic explorers of 
 old belong to another class) is formed by 
 leisure, opportunity, and a certain easiness 
 in pecuniary matters — like that plant whose 
 seed-vessels burst in heat, so explodes his 
 shell of habit when the sun of prosperity 
 shines warmly, and forthwith he is scattered 
 to the four winds. "It's a small world" 
 quoth he bromidically, as he goes to and fro 
 over the earth, and finds therein many de- 
 lightful persons resembling himself. Like 
 the man in the cabinet lined with mirrors, his 
 reflections are numerous, and all alike. No 
 wonder he feels like Sancho Pansa's hazel- 
 nut inhabitant of a mustard-seed world. 
 
 April 10. Today went over the oats on 
 Farfield with a smoothing harrow; an oper- 
 ation deferred for six days by the recent 
 showers. It began to rain about three P. 
 M., but I kept on with the light team (the 
 heavy one was still dragging the disk har- 
 row) leaving six inch gaps between each 
 "strike", stamping on every large clod I 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 8i 
 
 could reach, and occasionally scraping my 
 foot over a wider balk than usual, to leave 
 the surface as smooth as possible. I got 
 through near six, both I and the horses pret- 
 ty well soaked; but If It had not been done 
 after this shifty fashion, it might not have 
 been done at all. 
 
 April II. Fencing. Herman Melville, in 
 one of his early contributions to Harper's, 
 opines that the prevalence of insanity among 
 farmers Is due to the Sisyphaean task, recur- 
 ring every spring, of repairing rotten fences 
 with rotten rails. "Against the fence the old 
 man was mending", says he, "were butting 
 a number of half grown calves, or rather 
 mangy hair trunks, possessed of the devil. 
 Occasionally they would break through, 
 when he would drop his work and pursue 
 them with a fragment of the rail, huge as Go- 
 liath's spear, but light as cork. At the first 
 flourish it fell into pieces". 
 
 April 12. Set posts for wire fence. I 
 found that I could dig a hole two to two and 
 a half feet deep, set the post and fill In the 
 earth tamping It properly, in ten minutes, or 
 about five per hour, as I had to carry each 
 post from some distance. Of course, in sum- 
 mer, when the gravel is hard and dry, it 
 would take longer. In afternoon we stretched 
 the wires upon them. 
 
 This is a job for mild weather, as, if they 
 were tightened on a frosty day, they would 
 expand and slacken in summer. 
 
82 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 April ij. Today applied "M's Top 
 Dressing for Grass and Grain" to three 
 acres of wheat. The grain has come though 
 poorly, being badly winter killed, where the 
 drifts did not protect it, and in many places 
 heaved quite out of the ground. Many for- 
 lorn little wheat plants, half green, half red, 
 lie flat on the earth, only moored to it by one 
 slender fibre of root. I went carefully over 
 the whole three acres, carrying the fertilizer 
 in a bucket, and scattering it with a small 
 hand scoop. The stuff is at any rate evenly 
 distributed, about a hundred pounds per 
 acre. We shall see what good it does. 
 
 April 14. Went over Farfield with the 
 roller, ten days after the oats were sown. 
 This is an unprecented interval, but constant 
 light showers on sticky clay have hindered us 
 till now. A few days more, and the oats 
 would have broken ground, when it could not 
 have been done at all. The process is de- 
 sirable, not only to fine the soil and break the 
 large clods, but to crush down stones, corn- 
 butts, etc., into the earth, and make a clean 
 path for the roller. On the whole, our oats 
 have been very badly put in this year. 
 
 April 75. Spreading barnyard refuse on 
 the sod intended for corn this year. This 
 was one of the tasks of Chaucer's Plough- 
 man. 
 
 **0f dung he had spread ful many a fother", 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 83 
 
 How differently do the sanitarian and the ag- 
 riculturist regard a muckheap. 1 he former 
 considers it a menace to life and a breeding 
 place of diseases; the latter as a precious 
 treasure to be diligently cared for. No farm- 
 er ever has enough of it, and when he can 
 cover a small spot thickly, he knows that a 
 large spot must go hungry. The widely ad- 
 vertised manure spreaders do the work more 
 thoroughly, but hardly faster. Two good 
 men can spread a load in ten to twelve min- 
 utes, though I admit that they sometimes get 
 in each other's way. I have a scar on the 
 side of my middle finger, where the tine of 
 t'other man's fork struck me when thus en- 
 gaged, thirty years ago. 
 
 April 16. S. Cold, snow squalls; proba- 
 bly the last for this season. Lowell puts it 
 that first the maples, then the willows yellow, 
 then the horse-chestnuts buds open; "An' 
 arter this ther's only blossom snows". 
 
 The farmer's luxuries may be soon enum- 
 erated. Plenty of air and space, silence and 
 quiet, the use of a horse, fresh fruit and veg- 
 etables, feather beds. He also has a good 
 deal of leisure, in the sense that he can take 
 two or three hours off at almost any time 
 without its making much difference. But 
 long absences are beyond him. Other men 
 are held to their work by a chain, as it were, 
 which now and then is unhooked and laid by. 
 He is tethered by a rubber band, which will 
 always stretch z little, but never lets him go 
 
84 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 far, and the further he gets away the harder 
 it pulls. The milking of cows is the strong- 
 est strand of this tether, since that is a thing 
 which must be done at stated times, and few 
 can do ; also the knowledge that his best man 
 walks away in his shoes, and dislike of pay- 
 ing for things which are wasting at home. In 
 the Middle Ages farmers had many things 
 which only the wealthiest townsmen could 
 procure, but they grew fewer with advancing 
 civilization. And the first few things enum- 
 erated above are become distasteful to the 
 majority nowadays, as probably they always 
 were to the young. 
 
 April I J. Cutting potato sets. An up 
 start and a parvenue this among vegetables. 
 The two hundred years during which it has 
 been generally cultivated have brought it no 
 traditions; and it lacks even the uncanny in- 
 terest which the love apple gave to the still 
 more recent tomato. John Ridd, in "Lorna 
 Doone" cir. 1685, speaks of enjoying fried 
 "batatas", and they were cultivated in Ger- 
 many before the Seven Years War. Dis- 
 tracted Ireland favored this crop as being 
 safe alike from the enemy's torch and the 
 enemy's horses' teeth. I can cut about one 
 thousand sets per hour. 
 
 April 18. Ploughing for potatoes. Weath- 
 er still cold and backward. A chestnut tree 
 just levelled, had some seventy annual rings, 
 and was about the same number of feet in 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 85 
 
 height. The tree had made its greatest 
 growth between thirty and fifty, the rings be- 
 tween those years being quite broad, and 
 those before and after very narrow. By the 
 same rule, our biggest chestnut, about five 
 feet in diameter, must be at least two hun- 
 dred years old. 
 
 April ig. Showers leave a green deposit, 
 like slate pencil dust on the wheat ground 
 where I sprinkled the fertilizer. I fear this 
 bodes no good for the young clover plants, 
 now just breaking ground. "The leaf-buds 
 on the vine are woolly". 
 
 The climbers and creepers own the grape 
 vine as their king. This noble mountaineer 
 used, according to Virgil, to be trained upon 
 elm trees. Whether one tree was allotted 
 to each vine, or poles and cords were 
 stretched between them, is not made perfect- 
 ly clear. The ivy (poison and other) Vir- 
 ginia creeper, and Bignonia, come next in 
 magnitude, but instead of tendrils, they hold 
 by sucking discs, bringing in nutriment as 
 well as support. Then come the coilers, such 
 as the bean and hop, but even among them 
 there is a difference — one turns from right 
 to left, the other from left to right. The 
 bindweed is irregular in coiling, and some- 
 times where no support presents itself, a 
 mass of the stuff may be seen combining for 
 sustenance, and sending a point of heads into 
 the air something like the twist we make with 
 moistened finger and thumb to get a large 
 
86 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 thread through a small needle. Both this 
 fieldhand cousin of the morning-glory and 
 the sweet potato vine will sometimes form a 
 broad palm near the tip, as if to clutch what 
 they cannot enring. Lastly, the eminently 
 parasitic dodder lives on its host, despises its 
 own root, and dies as it goes like one of those 
 engines which carry their own track. 
 
 April 20. Put in one acre of potatoes with 
 a planter. First time I ever used one. The 
 affair, something like a big tandem bicycle, is 
 drawn by two horses, and ridden by two 
 men. One of these drives the team, the oth- 
 er regulates the passage of the seed from a 
 hopper between them. Down below, first 
 comes a small plough, then a tube down 
 which the fertilizer streams, then a rake to 
 mix this with the soil, then the passage for 
 descent of the potato sets, then two disks 
 which throw the soil over them, and finally a 
 small roller to pack the ridge. It leaves the 
 land in beautiful shape, but on the whole I 
 doubt if more labor is saved in the end, con- 
 sidering the charge for the machine and the 
 time spent taking it home again. 
 
 Threshing machines, of a kind, seem to 
 have been in use from time immemorial. The 
 "fan'' of Scripture was probably a mere im- 
 plement; the first Scotch winnowing mill is 
 alluded to in "Old Mortality", about 1690; 
 and Haggard speaks of an English engrav- 
 ing of such an article, not very much later. 
 A horse-rake, known as the "Wo-back", 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 87 
 
 from the constant halt and retreat necessary 
 to Its operation, was In use In the fifties, and 
 was succeeded about '65, by the "revol- 
 ver", a huge double-toothed wooden comb, 
 which could be thrown over by a knowing 
 jerk of the trip-handle on the part of the 
 trudging driver. Then came the steel spring- 
 tooth, where the farmer rides, and periodi- 
 cally pulls a lever to raise the jingling teeth; 
 and lastly the side delivery rake, which sends 
 forth the entire crop In one great twisted 
 rope. But this, with all other complicated 
 engineering. Is subject to attacks of the 
 nerves. The old tool was like a savage — 
 broken, or sound — wounded, or well. But 
 the complicated machine. If, as some one has 
 said. It seems to have a soul, seems to have 
 sicknesses too, and sometimes of kinds un- 
 dlscoverable by those who most profess to 
 comprehend their Intricacies. 
 
 April 21. Considering how for many 
 years, "getting Into a rut" has been a fitting 
 description of stupid conservatism. It Is sing- 
 ular that much of our boasted progress 
 should consist In making ruts all over the 
 world, lining them with Iron, and riding 
 about on them. 
 
 April 22. Hearing a noise in the shrub- 
 bery this evening, I found an Inebriated per- 
 son trying to lean gracefully against the arb- 
 or vitae hedge, which naturally gave way 
 and let him down. Getting him on his legs, 
 
88 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 I supported him a long way down the road, 
 and at length left him apparently well under 
 way for the town. I heard afterwards, how- 
 ever, that he spent the night in a field. 
 
 There Is an old story of an inebriate who, 
 having procured free physic for his sick chil- 
 dren by a well-planned tale of woe, appeared 
 next morning before the benevolent donor, 
 weeping, and exhibiting a broken phial, 
 
 "How came this, James?" 
 
 "Why, ye see, Docther, as I wint home 
 last avenin' I felt greatly tired, and lay down 
 to slape In a field. And wid that some vIU- 
 yan came and sow'd corn all around me, and 
 thin turned in the hogs. And they rooted 
 up the ground, and toss'd me over, and 
 throw'd me about and broke the phial, and 
 now the poor childer must suffer, d'ye mind." 
 
 April 2J. S. Oats breaking ground. In 
 some places one can only make them out by 
 stooping and looking for their shadows when 
 the sun Is low. In other spots a light green 
 tinge Is already visible over the surface. 
 Wheat is looking better than could have been 
 expected, but I fear that grey slop from the 
 fertilizer has killed the clover seed, which 
 should now be In evidence. 
 
 April 2^. The vestry went to parish 
 meeting, and voted for themselves as their 
 successors, with gratifying unanimity. When 
 you have got all the men of a parish in the 
 vestry, and all the women in the choir, it 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 89 
 
 stands to reason you will have few high pri- 
 vates. 
 
 April 2^. Mending fence. In these parts 
 we put three rails to a "panel" as the space 
 between two posts is called. In Pennsyl- 
 vania and some other states they put four or 
 five. The old idea of a fence was "horse 
 high, bull strong, and pig (or sheep) tight", 
 and New Jersey has probably poorer 
 horses, weaker bulls, and fewer sheep than 
 almost any other state. 
 
 Having selected three rails of equal 
 length, study their position. The poorest 
 rail, weak, splintered, crooked, should go at 
 the bottom. For the middle a crooked or 
 mis-shapen rail will do very well, if it is only 
 stout. For the top rail choose your best, 
 shapely, straight and strong. If there is any 
 crook at all, turn the convexity upward. Not 
 only does this make a neater and higher 
 fence, but the rail's constant endeavor to 
 turn binds the ends more together in the post 
 hole. 
 
 Turned the cows to pasture today. As a 
 rule, when first turned to grass, they feed 
 eagerly for a few minutes, then gallop wildly 
 round their enclosing fence, as if to assure 
 themselves that they do not dream, and that 
 the dull monotony of stall and barn-yard is 
 over. 
 
 April 26: Henry James has observed that 
 the action in Hawthorne seems to take place 
 
90 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 uncannily late In the afternoon, and always 
 winter outside. But do not most American 
 writers tend that way? With the exception 
 of Lowell's "June" In Sir Launfal, how little 
 they have to say of our long, hot, summer, 
 how much of our long, cold winter. Long- 
 fellow, Whittler, Bryant and Poe will give 
 you many frost pieces to one splash of sun. 
 Emerson and Holmes have the same bias, 
 though not so decidedly, and even Lowell, 
 despite the fine exception above noted, 
 turned oftenest to the North. The minor 
 poets, Lanier, Cella Thaxter, Drake, Bay- 
 ard Taylor, are perhaps of brighter mood. 
 
 April 27. Light rain during the night. 
 This has been a fairly moist and mild April. 
 "True to name" as the saying is, and yet 
 March was so dry that notwithstanding the 
 heavy snow of winter the soil Is already less 
 damp than I could wish. 
 
 The Old-time agriculturist seems to have 
 needed feeding oftener than the modern, 
 to judge by the constant "nuncheons", 
 "snacks", etc., which figure so largely In the 
 accounts of reapers' ways by a person of 
 quality looking on, and perhaps deigning to 
 partake. But "little and often" may be a 
 good rule for those undergoing severe toil, 
 and at any rate, it utilized the breathing 
 spells occuring about every three hours. A 
 laborer now departed, who flourished in the 
 8o's, having cradled since dawn, was wont 
 about 10 A. M., to call for six hard boiled 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 91 
 
 eggs, which having swallowed In a trice, 
 without intervention of spirituous fluids, he 
 would work on until 2 P. M., then knocking 
 off for the day. 
 
 April 28. Sowing beets and carrots by 
 hand. The ground was preparec] with the 
 potato planter, omitting the potatoes; that Is, 
 merely throwing a ridge with it over a line of 
 fertilizer. This is made smooth and level 
 with the hand rake, and then the sower walks 
 along the top of the ridge, taking quick, short 
 steps, bending over as far as possible, and 
 dribbling the seed with one hand just before 
 his toes. Having reached the end, he turns 
 and walks back over it, treading in the gaps 
 of the footprints just made. This packs the 
 whole row, and gives the back a chance to 
 straighten. This job is almost invariably 
 done to the accompaniment of humming 
 gnats, who appear just about this time and 
 sting, sharply, when they can get a lodgment 
 in human hair or horses' ears. They disap- 
 pear in a week or two, but while they last are 
 worse than mosquitoes. Saw the first but- 
 terfly a day or two ago. A Swedish boy who 
 worked here once used to repeat a saying of 
 his country which might thus be put Into Eng- 
 lish verse, 
 
 "The earliest butterfly you see, 
 Of his color that year your clothes will be". 
 
 April 2g. Not only the prosperity of a 
 jest, but of a comparison, lies In the ear that 
 
92 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 hears it. The cow-boy at the horse show, 
 who said the Shire staUion looked as if he 
 was wearing two pair of chaps, could never 
 have commanded a very large audience. 
 
 Possibly the change in taste concerning 
 oratory is not better illustrated than by the ■ 
 
 anecdote? told of our two most popular | 
 
 Presidents. Andrew Jackson, in obedience 
 to a hint that the crowd wouldn't be satisfied 
 without a little Latin, exclaiming 'mid thun- 
 derous applause, "Propria quae maribus — 
 E pluribus unum — Sine qua non — Serus in 
 coelum redeas", and Theodore Roosevelt 
 sitting up o' nights, of his own notion, to 
 study Arabic, that he might astound his au- 
 dience with a proverb in their mother tongue. 
 
 April JO. Wonderful are the struggles of 
 illustrators to represent that which they do 
 not comprehend. Harness and wagon gear- 
 ing are great stumbling blocks to them. They 
 generally get the bridle and collar tolerably 
 correct, but the holdbacks and whiffle trees 
 are marvelous to look upon. The wagon 
 wheels and body are done with a light heart, 
 but when they come to the setting on of the 
 pole and springs they walk among pitfalls, 
 and sometimes resort to the shift of covering 
 all with a cloud of dust. Even when an ef- 
 fort at the truth has been made, it is not al- 
 ways intelligent. In a recent illustrated edi- 
 tion of "Waverly" the Mac'Ivors are repre- 
 sented charging over a stubble field at Pres- 
 ton. The artist had evidently gone to Na- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 93 
 
 ture, and consequently the stubble stood in 
 straight lines, as the modern drill leaves it, 
 instead of being evenly dispersed over the 
 ground, as hand sowing would have left it in 
 
 1745- 
 
 May I. Jane Austen is perhaps of all 
 great authors the least accessible to natural 
 scenery. John Dashwood in "Sense and Sen- 
 sibility" clearing away the old thorns to 
 make room for his green house, the "pretty- 
 ish wilderness" and "park ten miles round" 
 in "Pride and Prejudice", the stormy after- 
 noon in "Emma", the stormy night in 
 "Northanger Abbey", the "farmer meaning 
 to have spring again", in "Persuasion", how 
 few and light the touches are. She something 
 resembled a Venetian of 1500 in his commer- 
 cial instinct, his pride in monopoly, and his 
 obliviousness to Vasco di Gama. Her coun- 
 try's frigates were to her machines to earn 
 prize-money in, her country's church an in- 
 stitution to provide for younger sons, her 
 country's soldiers persons whose flogging 
 bored her. She had a mighty genius for 
 smugness; and in her narrow path trod, as 
 Tennyson said, "next to Shakespeare". 
 
 May 2. Ploughing the three acre. This 
 is a neglected old field falling steeply away to 
 north and west from a clay bluff. Covered 
 with sprouts and briars, incessant work with 
 the grubbing hoe is necessary to get the 
 plough along. Thistles are also numerous, 
 
94 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 but this neighborhood does not seem to fav- 
 or their Increase and probably one year's cul- 
 tivation win do for them. Some men in 
 ploughing hold the reins In one hand, this Is 
 awkward In turning where one must put 
 one's whole strength to the stilts; some round 
 the back, which spoils the horses' mouths; 
 some round the neck, which Imperils the driv- 
 er. I have seen a man dragged clear over his 
 plough by the breaking of the clevis pin, 
 whereupon the released team rushed for- 
 ward. 
 
 May J. Finished ploughing the three 
 acre. As the Northern Farmer said "I ha' 
 stubb'd Thorneby waste", and certainly 
 there Is pleasure In reclaiming a bit of land 
 like that, and making it again do its share. 
 It has been observed that newly cleared land 
 always seems to have risen up. I suppose 
 we look at the tops of the bushes and briars, 
 and think the ground they grew In lower than 
 It Is; just as a large piece of water always 
 seems deep. Perhaps If the ocean were sud- 
 denly drained away Its shallowness, not Its 
 depth, would terrify us. High wind today, 
 rapidly drying the land, which needs It not. 
 
 May 4. V. ploughed, I rolled. This Is desir- 
 able to pack the newly turned furrow slices 
 down side by side so that the harrow may not 
 tear them up. Hawthorne says that he had 
 trodden every square foot of Brook Farm, 
 and I believe T have done that by Cherry 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 95 
 
 Lawn, though perhaps not yet by Clifton. 
 Ploughing a field twice would do it. It is an 
 old saying ''No manure like the master's 
 foot". 
 
 May 5. Tanagers are to be seen hopping 
 over the newly plowed sod. Generally in 
 pairs. They are much in evidence at this 
 time, but unnoticed for the rest of the year. 
 Conspicuous and tame as they are, I never 
 saw one shot or shot at. This, I fear, is not 
 so much owing to the gunner's tender heart 
 as his tender feet, which disincline him to 
 walk over plowed land. 
 
 It is true that ploughing is traditionally 
 the task of all others to be done barefoot, 
 but this emphasizes the above statement. 
 Crossing ploughed land shod blisters the 
 feet and spoils the boots. Wet earth seems 
 to eat the leather, and the unforeseen twists 
 and slips induced by the unequal solidity of 
 the earth bring the weight to bear on unac- 
 customed spots. But the plough-man does 
 not cross ploughed land. He treads the fur- 
 row, a pathway cut between sod and loam 
 for himself alone. He follows a premise 
 which he cannot see, and leaves a conclusion 
 soon to be obliterated. Like the early Chris- 
 tians, he turns the world upside down. The 
 remarks made above touching the failure of 
 artists with wagons apply also to ploughed 
 land. Leech was a good delineator of hunt- 
 ing scenes, and knew his subject, yet one of 
 his sketches, representing an indignant hunts- 
 
96 A FARMER^S NOTE BOOK 
 
 man hastening to chastise the silence of a 
 scare-crow, shows the striding horse only 
 covering five or six furrows, which could not 
 much exceed a foot in width, while five or 
 six more make all the remaining distance be- 
 tween scare-crow and hedge, which, by per- 
 spective, would be at least forty feet. 
 
 May 6. Carted out last manure. Seven- 
 ty-two loads. A stalled animal will make 
 about ten loads of manure per year. As there 
 are compensations everywhere on the farm, 
 this is supposed to pay for the time spent in 
 tending them. And how much tending a 
 horse gets. He Is watered, fed, cleaned, 
 harnessed where he stands; he has only to do 
 his bare work. A man has to exert himself 
 considerably to eat, to bathe, to dress; and 
 then do his work besides. 
 
 We all have hoofs. Yours and mine num- 
 ber a score, and we call them nails; the cow 
 and deer have sixteen, for not every one has 
 observed that a little above and behind the 
 traditional ''cloven hoof" are two smaller 
 horny processes, which only take the earth 
 when the owner sinks deep In wet soil. The 
 dog Is In like case, at least the majority. I 
 know not how far Moses' rule applies to the 
 "mule-hoofed" swine of the south, which 
 neither part the hoof, nor chew the cud. 
 
 The horse gathers three nails Into one; 
 the callous growth just below the fetlock Is 
 his fourth finger, and the spots of horn on 
 the inside of each leg, a little below the hock, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 97 
 
 a little above the foreknee, are his thumbs. 
 His knee is our wrist; his hock is our heel. 
 His elbow is close up against his side, and 
 the shoulder joint tied in, so as effectually to 
 prevent his ever taking that defiant attitude 
 known as "akimbo". If we would imitate a 
 rearing horse, we must stand on the tips of 
 our toes (not the balls) bring our knees close 
 up against the short ribs, drop the wrist and 
 bend the fingers backward, and all this with a 
 load of about thirty pounds on our back. 
 
 May 7. Iridescence on the neck of a pig- 
 eon (where perhaps it attains its highest 
 development) may be also observed on a 
 horse's mane, In a strong light; perhaps, too 
 on human hair, though this I have never no- 
 ticed. 
 
 May 8. Met two neighbors on the road, 
 mother and son, who are supposed not to be 
 "all there", and was struck by their staring 
 eyes. Why should deficiency of mind ex- 
 press itself in redundancy of feature? Do 
 open doors indicate a feeble tenant? 
 
 Great men do not always impress by their 
 countenances. An honored ancestor, now 
 past away, used to say that he only saw Dan- 
 iel Webster's coat and heels by looking over 
 a hotel balcony as he (Mr. W.) was enter- 
 ing the porch below. And all he could re- 
 member of Dickens was his green trousers. 
 Longfellow was described by another rela- 
 tive as a short young man with a tig nose. 
 
98 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Chesterton has well observed that we always 
 expect notabilities to be younger than they 
 are, because they were young when they did 
 the deeds that made them notable. 
 
 Kingsley is said to have been one of the 
 few men who did not disappoint in this way. 
 Caesar's weeping at the sight of Alexander's 
 statue, because, though then older than Phil- 
 ip's warlike son was when he died, he had 
 performed no such exploits, is a curious in- 
 trospective reversal of this sort; though the 
 fruit was not there, he lamented at being 
 past another's bearing season. That he 
 eventually produced a plenteous crop is be- 
 yond question; but perhaps he had never 
 done so but for these fructifying showers. 
 
 May g. Continued ploughing, working up 
 toward the road. Longfield (with the excep- 
 tion of an acre at the near end, where grass 
 was sown after cabbage four years ago, and 
 made a fair crop) was in poor drilled corn 
 in 1902, and then tumbled down to red top 
 grass, which, when seen alone, generally in- 
 dicates either very poor or very wet land. 
 The three acre before mentioned also forms 
 part of it, and has been still longer out of cul- 
 tivation. The whole (between eight and 
 nine acres) will now be planted to corn, and 
 cultivated as one. 
 
 May 10. Hauled over 300-lb. stone 
 struck in plowing. It is too heavy for one to 
 move, and thus has remained in situ since the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 99 
 
 land was first cleared. It is a yellow sand- 
 stone, flat on two sides, otherwise roughly 
 triangular, and covered with scars and 
 scratches, left by the plowshares of a hun- 
 dred years — rude cuneiform inscriptions, 
 graving on It the jest or the curse of those it 
 hindered or halted. 
 
 May II. Despite a little shower last night 
 the ground is getting very dry again, and 
 wood fires are becoming frequent. Almost 
 every day we see a heavy column of smoke 
 rising from the scrub-oak lands south and 
 east. Some of these are from the railways, 
 rapidly increasing near the clay pits, some 
 are set by mischievous boys. Both these in- 
 cendiary forces, are bound to grow worse; so 
 what hope can there ever be of reforesting 
 the land? Every year more and more of the 
 wretched dead poles that are left fall down, 
 and furnish fresh fuel against the next 
 drought. I remember one very pretty spot 
 on what was known as the saw mill brook, 
 which was a dam one hundred feet long and 
 six or eight high, said to have been made by 
 one woman with a wheelbarrow in the thir- 
 ties. There was a beautiful little grove of 
 red pines, thick and dark above, but free of 
 underbrush or ground branches, crowsfoot 
 and spinning-vine grew abundantly, and hard 
 by was the only wild holly bush I know of in 
 these parts. Now it has been exploited by 
 the Pyrogranite Co. and what is not clay-pit 
 or track is a mass of charred desolation. 
 
loo A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Only around Lakewood, where enormous 
 sums are spent, by wealthy stockjobbers and 
 malades imaglnaries, do we see what might 
 be done with the woods. 
 
 May 12. Plowing harder and harder, the 
 share has to be renewed every two or three 
 days, the land turns up in great lumps or 
 breaks before the plough in cracks, instead 
 of rolling away in a smooth brown slice, and 
 dust puffs from under the turning furrow. 
 Things are not yet as bad as in the terrible 
 drought of 1903, when from April 25th to 
 June 17th there was scarcely a drop, but we 
 seem tending that way. 
 
 May /J. The above lament was followed 
 by a nice shower during the night, which for 
 the moment suffices. It did not go very deep, 
 and the earth turns up dry from the depth of 
 six Inches, reminding one of the robe of 
 Dante's angel "the color of ashes", or earth 
 dug dry. 
 
 May 14, S. Beautiful weather. Heard 
 the first thrush singing today. In afternoon 
 saw a humming-bird, and in evening rose the 
 voice of the whip-poor-will. This last fowl, 
 besides his well-known onomatopoetic cry, 
 has a kind of querying, chuckling note audi- 
 ble but a few feet away, not unlike that ut- 
 tered by a cock, when guarding a laying hen. 
 
 May 75. Finished plowing sod, going all 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK loi 
 
 around the piece and ploughing Inward to 
 make a neat finish. Considerable work with 
 the grubbing hoe was also needed to break 
 the crust of poison ivy which for years had 
 been circulating among the fences. In the 
 evening had the first thunder shower of the 
 season. Meadow foxtail (Alopecurus crls- 
 tatus) coming into blossom. Land merry 
 with showers. 
 
 May 1 6. Showery again. We tried the 
 smoothing harrow this morning, but it 
 dragged the wet soil to a mortar-like condi- 
 tion, and had to be abandoned after a few 
 bouts. Set a hen on our first clutch of eggs 
 nearly three weeks ago. After sixteen days 
 she wearied of the task, left the nest, and the 
 eggs became quite cold before I discovered 
 her absence. This Is frequently the end of 
 one's hopes, but I procured another hen, put 
 her In the deserter's place, and now a faint 
 peeping can be heard. Later she hatched 
 eight chicks. Many years ago we had a hen 
 sitting on eggs, and twenty days passed with 
 no sign of life. On the twenty-second she 
 came off to feed as usual, went back to her 
 nest, hopped down into It, and came out on the. 
 floor carrying an egg in her beak by a small 
 hole pecked through the shell, and broke It. 
 The egg contained a chicken, which, not yet 
 quite ready for its debut, struggled a few 
 minutes and then died. Apparently satisfied 
 by this test that she was not being imposed 
 on, the hen returned to her nest, sat two days 
 
102 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 longer, and brought off a brood. This was 
 reason, not Instinct. She could compute that 
 the usual time of Incubation had passed, and 
 she could judge by her experiment that there 
 was still hope. 
 
 May ij. Considering Thoreau's intense 
 and Intimate love of nature, it seems strange 
 that man's defacement of her beauty affected 
 him so little. The railroad cutting, the tele- 
 graph line, gave pleasure to his eye and ear. 
 Nor did individual men irk him beyond en- 
 durance. The Irish laborer whose shanty he 
 bought, the chopper, sundry farmers, have 
 tolerance from him. But when two or three 
 met together for any purpose, even sound- 
 ing a pond, his suspicion and disdain awoke; 
 and on a number associated formally In reli- 
 gion or politics or trade fell the full measure 
 of his scorn. He could not endure that aver- 
 aging up of conscience and judgment, tacit or 
 expressed, which form human law and public 
 opinion; nor could he even tolerate persons 
 guided by the results thereof. 
 
 May i8. Heavy shower, followed by 
 fine warm weather. The sweet elusive scent 
 of grape blossoms streaks the air, and one 
 constantly turns one's head to discern whence 
 It comes. Not everyone knows the pleasant 
 acidulous taste of grape tendrils. 
 
 May ig. We finish harrowing today, and 
 the field is ready for marking. Stripped of 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 103 
 
 her green mantle, prostrate and receptive, the 
 earth lies bare and smooth before you, every 
 curve and slope apparent, and the soil tints 
 from yellow gravel to purple clay, showing 
 as they never can do under crop, much less in 
 frost or drought. Mid-May surrounds one 
 with possibilities. 
 
 May 20. Marking of corn. Riding on a 
 sled whose runners, four feet apart, line out 
 two rows at once on the soft surface of 
 mould, I drive up and down a field more 
 than a thousand feet long. A marking pole 
 with scraper traces a faint line six feet to one 
 side. Arrived at the end of the field, I haul 
 the sled round, throw over the hinged mark- 
 er, and drive back, keeping the tongue be- 
 tween the horses, right over the scratch the 
 scraper made on the last trip. The team 
 seems to appreciate the change from the 
 heavy plow and harrow to the light sled, and 
 at times I urge them into a trot. 
 
 May 21. S. Each form of life may be 
 taken as the ultimate expression of its com- 
 bination of qualities. Conditions, as it were, 
 narrow about the advancing assembly of at- 
 tributes, close before it, form a mold; and 
 behold the utmost that can be done in that di- 
 rection. Thus the mouse is the smallest crea- 
 ture the conditions of sub-division of fluids 
 and gases would permit to the qualities of a 
 mammal; the elephant, the largest, gravita- 
 tion and cohesion would allow the same at- 
 
104 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 tributes. The horse represents the highest 
 harmonies in combination of size, strength 
 and speed, the conditions of air, earth, diet 
 and capacity for domestication will admit; 
 man, the utmost physical development possi- 
 ble to a biped possessed of intellect; and wo- 
 man, the utmost of all these consistent with 
 beauty. 
 
 May 22. Planting corn. One man goes 
 over the field dropping four or five kernels at 
 the intersection of the four-foot marks, the 
 other follows and covers with a hoe. Drop- 
 ping corn is proverbially light work, which 
 may be done by women and children, yet for 
 many hours at a time it is tedious, if done 
 with any rapidity. One must reach almost 
 to the ground to keep the seed from landing 
 out of place, especially if a shower has 
 packed the bottom of the rows since morn- 
 ing, and as rising and stooping again every 
 four feet wastes time, the swift worker must 
 go across the field elbows and knees in con- 
 tact. The process is just the reverse of sow- 
 ing. There the seed is whirled widely from 
 the finger tips; here the fingers and thumb 
 form a funnel, down which the seed slides, 
 always tumbling inwards, so as to form a lit- 
 tle pyramid, whence the stalks shall spring as 
 closely together as possible. 
 
 May 2j. Finished planting corn. Three 
 rows along one side of the field, where it is 
 bounded by a line of saplings and bushes, I 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 105 
 
 prepared with Paris Green; first dropping 
 the tarred corn at the intersections, and then 
 dusting the poison over it. Crows have done 
 great injury to our corn the last two seasons; 
 and this is the place they are most likely to 
 attack. Probably two hundred years ago the 
 settlers looked at the Indians as we at crows. 
 
 May 24. Went to Ortley. Great is the 
 change from green and fertile fields to the 
 barren sand bar forever battered by the sea's 
 fists. The lupins are not out yet, but the 
 broom is in bloom, covering the sand beneath 
 it with gold-dust. Saw about fifty fish hawks 
 at once. 
 
 May 25. Crossed bay here about two and 
 a half miles wide, in skill. There was a slight 
 breeze blowing against me. It took one 
 thousand oar strokes, and about three-quar- 
 ters of an hour. 
 
 May 26. Sailing with L. and Mr. J. in A. 
 J.'s sharpie. Beat against a strong south 
 wind, and we all got indifferent wet. The flat 
 bottomed boat pounds the waves much more 
 than a round bottomed one. 
 
 May 27. They say a hundred years ago 
 Barnegat Bay was a nest of pirates. Cer- 
 tainly no piece of water could be better suited 
 to these gentry. They might fall off to sea, 
 plunder a coaster, and then escape up the tor- 
 tuous channels of the bay, where a boat of 
 
io6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 any size would ground, or, if hard pressed, 
 into one of the many creeks flowing into it 
 where concealment would be easy, and detec- 
 tion almost impossible. 
 
 May 28. S. There is an old question, 
 "When an irresistible force meets an immov- 
 able body, what will be the result?" The 
 answer is, creation. "And the earth was 
 without form and void; and darkness was 
 upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of 
 God moved upon the face of the waters." 
 Does that not describe it? The meeting of 
 force with quiescence has always creative re- 
 sults. The blow of the hammer on the rock 
 strikes fire; the meeting of male with female 
 results In birth; the Impact of Divinity on 
 Death issued in that new creation, Resurrec- 
 tion. 
 
 "1st er In Werdelust 
 Schaftender Freude nah?" 
 
 May 29. Returned from Ortley; found 
 corn coming up nicely. The tightly rolled 
 sprouts breaking the ground resemble the 
 points of green nails driven from below. 
 Sometimes they come through cleanly, some- 
 times they lift a bit of the soil crust on one 
 side or like a trap-door, now and then three 
 or four shoots will lift a bit of earth entirely 
 from its surroundings, like a miniature crom- 
 lech. 
 
 May JO. Surveyors appeared again this 
 morning. Perhaps the fact that Washington 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 107 
 
 began life as a surveyor to some extent en- 
 courages their air of being instruments of the 
 irresistible. They assure you it is impossible 
 their own course be altered, and treat the 
 rights of all others as jests or anachronisms. 
 They hold with Selkirk : 
 
 'Tm monarch of all I survey". 
 
 May 5/. Cutting orchard grass (Dacty- 
 lis glomerata) on lawns and roadside. Its 
 tall thick branches make a great show, but do 
 not make up such a burden as the less con- 
 spicuous timothy. While velvet grass (Hol- 
 cus lanatus) is much later, and much resem- 
 bles it in form, but is colorless and worthless. 
 
 June I. Got up before five and went 
 down to replant corn. As I topped the hill 
 the crows flew off, cawing angrily. "This is 
 our time" they seemed to say. Found hill 
 after hill scratched over and the sprouting 
 corn scattered about. At five A. M. in June 
 one has the weather of 9 A. M. in October, 
 or high noon in December. How must the 
 feet of those who walked over grass and 
 plough in the dewy morn have "full of fen 
 honged", as Langland says, before rubber 
 boots were invented. The difference then 
 was of course that hoed crops were confined 
 to the garden. 
 
 June 2. Hoeing potatoes. The crooked 
 greenish white sprouts lie like maggots with 
 
io8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 their mouth just opening along the rows, and 
 we cut the weeds — sorrel, round-top, and 
 convolvulus from between them with our 
 hoes. In a way the *'Man With the Hoe" 
 has a better time than the wielder of any oth- 
 er tool. He fells nothing but what ought to 
 be felled. 
 
 June J. Finished replanting corn, about 
 four hundred hills out of about twenty-two 
 thousand. This is a much smaller propor- 
 tion than for many years, and if the crows 
 never did more harm than this we would not 
 bother them. The three rows I poisoned 
 with Paris Green have come up very badly. 
 Evidently the arsenic was too much for the 
 corn. 
 
 June 4. S. Ariston men hud or. The hu- 
 man race is water. Ormuzd is heat. Ahri- 
 man is cold, humanity saved is steam, hu- 
 manity depraved is ice. The lowest depth of 
 the Inferno was the Giudecca. The "spirit 
 chat denies" cannot originate or diversify, 
 as can "fantastic summer's heat", can only 
 reduce matter to its own likeness and level. 
 "The Devil is an Egoist". All things are 
 contracted by cold, one only except. Water 
 expands when changing to ice, and in this ac- 
 tion on humanity, somewhat resembling that 
 of steam at the other end of the scale, lies 
 the Enemy's power. 
 
 June 5. Began cultivating corn. A horse 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 109 
 
 drags a frame with five or six little plows on 
 the under side between the rows of sprouting 
 corn, while the man steers the affair with 
 two handles like a wheelbarrow, at the same 
 time guiding the cultivator with his right 
 hand, handling the horses' reins with his left, 
 and occasionally kicking off the clods or 
 stones which fall on the corn-hills with one 
 foot. Thus, like a modern organist, he 
 plays on his "harp of a hundred strings", and 
 adds his note to the farmer's chorus. 
 
 June 6. Jethro Tull is said to have been 
 the first to have introduced cultivation (or 
 tillage) of grain. He thought this sufficed 
 without manure; and perhaps it may have 
 done so on his heavy clays. The laborers of 
 his day, though they durst not refuse to use 
 his new fangled tools, were bitterly opposed 
 to them, and broke or lost them whenever 
 they could. 
 
 June 7. Cultivation on the three acre 
 tears out great masses of roots — briar, eld- 
 er, sassafras, locust — which roll up and pack 
 under the cultivator until it will go no furth- 
 er, and one must stop midway across the 
 field, and carry the stuff away by armfuls. 
 Occasionally a stouter root then usual, run- 
 ning under a hill of corn, will tear it out with 
 a square foot of earth before one can stop. 
 After a time the horse learns in going to 
 keep about a foot from the newly broken 
 ground of the last space, and in returning to 
 
no A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 tread the slight furrow he has made. The 
 chief difficulty is at the ends where he wants 
 to swing out for the turn before he should. 
 Correcting this tendency by the rein, and at 
 the same time keeping the cultivator teeth in 
 the ground, is hard on the left hand, which 
 is usually much abraded by the time the first 
 tending is over. 
 
 June 8. Thinning beets. They are sin- 
 gled out with hoe or trowel to stand about 
 ten inches apart, which of course necessitates 
 the destruction of many promising young 
 plants. While thus engaged, I have often 
 fancied a complaint arising from the rejected 
 ones. "Why did you tear me out? I can 
 understand why you should destroy small, 
 stunted, or deformed specimens; but I and 
 my friend yonder were as large and fine as 
 any in the field." To which the reply, incom- 
 prehensible to them, would be, "You did not 
 grow in the right place." 
 
 June g. Not only do the birds of the air 
 levy toll upon the corn, but many hills are de- 
 stroyed by moles, whose runs, like miniature 
 tunnels which have suffered collapse, may be 
 seen streaking the field in all directions when 
 the first cultivation is long deferred. Pug- 
 nacity is not usually counted among the 
 moles' attributes, but I have seen a couple of 
 them fight like bull dogs, tumbling about, 
 squeaking, and not quitting their hold of each 
 other's throats until they were lifted off the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 1 1 1 
 
 ground by a stick passed between them, and 
 smartly shaken. 
 
 June 10. As before stated, the old Mln- 
 nislnk trail ran between our farms. Indians 
 undoubtedly dwelt here in considerable num- 
 bers, and corn tending is the best time to find 
 their relics. This year's field does not yield 
 much; the soil is heavy, the aspect northern. 
 But on the sandy moraine of the larger farm, 
 near the brook, we have found stone axes, 
 pestles, clinkstone knives, and arrow-heads 
 in abundance. That was the Indian's favorite 
 location — a southern slope, a sandy soil 
 where water would not stand, but near a run- 
 ning stream. The cultivator brings all small 
 objects to the surface, and when they have 
 dried out they show distinctly. Point and 
 edge — how hard they are to come by, how 
 instructive when preserved. 
 
 June II. S. On this day twenty-five 
 years ago, seventy half bushel baskets of 
 cherries were picked from the trees on our 
 lawn. This year the entire crop will be less 
 than half that amount. The same or worse 
 is true of the Bartlett pears. In '92, we had 
 three hundred baskets. Last year, not one. 
 
 The "June drop" is a term primarily ap- 
 plied to the falling of tree fruit which gen- 
 erally, if not always takes place at that time 
 of year. Especially is this the case with 
 peaches, which, though they may have 
 crowded the branches shortly after blossom- 
 
112 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Ing, when the dried up flower can be drawn 
 like a hat from the httle white woolly head, 
 are always sadly thinned six weeks later. To 
 a certain extent, this is natural and even de- 
 sirable. Few trees could bring to maturity 
 the number of fruits which "set" upon them, 
 and they would seldom be of marketable size 
 if it was done. The same remarks will ap- 
 ply to apples. But though it is well that half 
 the fruit should fall when as large as grapes. 
 It Is not well that most or all should do so. 
 Something like the above may be noticed 
 with most plane trees, and a few oaks. Their 
 leaves push early. In June comes a halt, the 
 tender foliage withers, and the tree seems 
 about to die. Then it takes a new start, 
 sends out buds from a different part of the 
 same branch, and by August the tree Is In 
 dark and heavy leaf. 
 
 June 12. Rain In moderate quantity. All 
 through this spring, there has been just 
 enough precipitation to keep things alive, 
 like six-pence a day doled out to a pensioner. 
 One of the phrases most constantly In the 
 mouth of the said pensioner is "If I could 
 only jlst git a little ahead", and so say the 
 crops as they wilt and curl. 
 
 June /J. Cut orchard grass. This was 
 sown alone In spring two years ago. Last 
 year It cut a very fair crop, two loads to the 
 acre, which contained little orchard grass, 
 however, but mostly a kind of meadow fes- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 113 
 
 cue. This season it is a mixture of both. 
 Orchard grass always increases where once it 
 gets a footing, because, being one of the earl- 
 iest to mature, its seeds fall before the other 
 grasses are cut. 
 
 And now the hay-cart passes among the 
 mounds and reefs so plain to see since the bil- 
 lows of grass went down, and pitcher and 
 loader take their places. The first has, tradi- 
 ditionally, the harder task, and is supposed 
 to need great strength. But he must not be 
 judged altogether by the rapidity of his 
 work, so much depends on the material. Two 
 good men, pitching long hay from the cock, 
 have got on a load in nine minutes. Again, 
 a fair worker, sending up dry short hay 
 from the winrow, took an hour and three- 
 quarters to make his load. He must also 
 survey the cart occasionally from the rear, 
 and judge if it is one-sided. But at last it is 
 on, the gauntlet of tall fence post and low 
 branch is run, and the tugging team stamps 
 into the barn. The bright tined forks flash 
 against the cavernous gloom as the mowers 
 — short o — squeeze their way up the ladder. 
 Whether mow and maw have the same root 
 I am not sure, but the great empty space 
 above the stock can be likened to no stom- 
 ach save the constrictor's. Getting off the 
 load is dull and dusty work, only relieved by 
 that ancient jest "You must treat now!" 
 when hay and fork together are jerked from 
 the pitcher's hands, or by the joyous cry 
 ''There's the shelvings !" when the frame 
 
114 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 whereon the load Is built appears. 
 
 June 14. Turtles peculiarly active at pres- 
 ent. We have three varieties, the common 
 solid shell, the box-turtle, and a small leath- 
 ery species, with yellow dots instead of let- 
 terings. It Is seldom that one sees them eat 
 anything; but I remember finding one In the 
 orchard, which, after standing aloof awhile, 
 ate several raspberries from my fingers. 
 Now and then one sees a specimen with a 
 carapace like a crushed hat or old shoe, 
 which has evidently been broken under a 
 wheel and healed all out of shape. Would 
 we break our bones oftener if we had them 
 all on the outside? Thoreau says they eat 
 cranberry and sorrel leaves. 
 
 June IS' Got In two loads hay. All the 
 large solid forkfuls are pitched up, and put 
 around the front, back and sides of the load, 
 and only the small wisps thrown in the mid- 
 dle. A load of hay is made up very like a 
 load of bags of grain, only the bunches are 
 not so distinct. One feels the flight of time 
 as one opens the big barn doors, lets the light 
 into the dark corners, and sees the straws 
 and chaff remaining of the crop that was 
 pitched in a year ago. As the pitcher walks 
 from cock to cock, he runs his fork before 
 him, on the ground, gathering up a small 
 bunch. 
 
 June 16. Mending barb wire fence. There 
 is nothing on the farm so convenient or so 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 115 
 
 hateful as this. A line of it can be erected 
 in a very short time, at small expense, and on 
 very poor posts. For two or three years it is 
 bearable. Then it deteriorates steadily till 
 the end. And whereas the last remnants of 
 the rail fence are good for fuel, old rusty 
 barb wire is utterly worthless, and can only 
 be got rid of by burying it. I have a scar of 
 its making twenty years old. I knew a cow 
 that was badly cut up by it, another who lost 
 an eye by swinging her head around close to 
 it. And once I found a flying squirrel hang- 
 ing dead by a fold of his parachute. The 
 wound was slight, but he could not escape, 
 and must have hung there till he starved. 
 
 June 77. Finished second cultivation of 
 corn. Cut more grass and cocked it up. At 
 this time of year snakes frequently ensconce 
 themselves under the cocks, whether for 
 warmth by night or coolness by day I do not 
 know. 
 
 June 18. S. On French coins, with their 
 effigies of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, 
 it is worthy of note that the central figure of 
 Equality is a head taller than the others; a 
 result not infrequently aimed at by those who 
 call for him. Oh, Equality, how many fol- 
 lies are committed in thy name ! 
 
 June ig. Very hot morning. In after- 
 noon came up a cool, east wind, which rapid- 
 ly and pleasantly lessened the temperature. 
 
ii6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 We are about thirty miles from the ocean, 
 but probably the salty odor comes rather 
 from the great salt marshes of the Raritan. 
 Salt water must have an extensive surface to 
 evaporate on before its odor is distinct. 
 There is little of it on a clean sand beach, 
 still less in mid-ocean. 
 
 June 20. Yesterday I rode into a neigh- 
 bor's field just cleared of hay through open 
 bars. I had never been on just that spot be- 
 fore, though I have lived near it so long — 
 and the effect of novelty was strange. The 
 road, along which I have travelled thousands 
 of times, did not look at all as I had sup- 
 posed; indeed, but for the double line of 
 fence, I should not have known it was there 
 at all. Would not everything seem new all 
 our lives if, at thirty-five, the landscape was 
 turned as In a mirror? 
 
 Of meadows after mowing, Herrick 
 sings — 
 
 ''Like unthrlfts, having spent 
 Your stock, and needy grown. 
 You're left here to lament 
 Your poor estate alone". 
 
 Most likely Herrick never handled scythe 
 or rake himself; yet he caught the feeling 
 which possesses every farmer walking over 
 the mowing lot a day or two after It Is 
 cleared. A few hours ago, the field lying un- 
 visited for three hundred and sixty days of 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 117 
 
 the year, was a scene of tumultuous activity. 
 Here you lived; here as much excitement 
 mingled with your labor as farm work ever 
 knows. Toiling to the utmost, hard and 
 long, defying the heat and apprehending the 
 shower, you were young again, if that you 
 could stand and see. Here was the stone 
 over which the mower bumped, and left a 
 wisp standing; here was the gully into which 
 your foot slipped while heaving up a forkful, 
 making your bones crack. This bit was thin 
 and short, as you can tell by the shreds the 
 rake has left; that was a fair mix of clover 
 and grass. Bowed and stiff, you wonder at 
 the exertions you made on that day of battle, 
 and wonder yet more if another year will 
 find you renewing them on the same spot. 
 
 June 21. Poisoned potatoes. Filling a 
 watering pot from a cask in the lane, and 
 stirring into it a spoonful of Paris Green, one 
 walks up and down the rows as rapidly as 
 possible, sprinkling the rows going and re- 
 turning, twenty rows, six hundred feet long, 
 each row to be covered twice, makes about 
 five miles of walking to the acre, not to 
 speak of carrying the water. It Is now about 
 thirty years since the potato bug first ap- 
 peared. I remember the consternation he 
 caused — and how one neighbor thought he 
 had hit on a fine plan for the discomfiture of 
 the intruder, namely, to set his children to 
 brushing the insects off the vines with brooms 
 and then quickly following with a plow, bury- 
 
ii8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Ing them deeply. But next day they had all 
 come out again. The onion maggots are very 
 bad in R's field this season, quarrying out the 
 center of the shoot, and also that of the 
 young cauliflower plants. Maggots, potato 
 bugs, turnip flies, cabbage worms, gypsy 
 moths, San Jose scale — does it not seem as if 
 the nameless parasites which tormented hu- 
 manity for so many milleniums had now fall- 
 en on vegetable life? 
 
 June 22. Heavy shower this afternoon, 
 big ailanthus tree on Dennis Street blown 
 down. Have hitched my horse to it these 
 thirty-years. It was perhaps five feet in cir- 
 cumference at the ground, though rapidly 
 diminishing, and only a thin strip of green 
 wood and bark, going one third around the 
 base, and not thicker than one's hand, had 
 kept the life in it of late. The butt projected 
 on all sides over the surrounding flag stones, 
 as if the tree had run down upon them like 
 a melting candle. The heart was badly de- 
 cayed, and probably it would have fallen 
 long ago, but for being upright and well bal- 
 anced. 
 
 June 2j. Began working corn with Riggs' 
 plow. This is a two horse implement, and in 
 using it one horse goes on each side of the 
 row of corn, as do three of the six small 
 plows set in the frame, turning a slight fur- 
 row inward. As the driver would find it im- 
 possible to avoid stepping on the corn if he 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 119 
 
 came directly after, the handles are slanted 
 well over to the left enabling him to walk in 
 that space. Great care is required, in bring- 
 ing the horses about at the end of the row, to 
 make the eight heavy trampling feet pass 
 among the tender hills of corn without crush- 
 ing them down, and at the same time heave 
 the cumbrous plough around. Burns would 
 not have written "Corn Riggs are bonnie" 
 of this sort of thing. 
 
 June 24. Light rain again. Just enough 
 to spoil hay, but not to help grass. The 
 small funnels of growing maize, however, 
 take it all in gratefully. It rather bothers 
 one in hoeing to see bits of mud or small 
 stones caught in said funnels. Apparently 
 they can never get out but by working down 
 and wearing a hole through the side of the 
 stalk. In muddy weather, the edge of the 
 hoe is soon covered with a mass of fibrous 
 roots, which necessitates banging it on a 
 stone every few yards. This intermittent 
 clang harmonizes well with the cracking 
 voices of the crows, who flap swiftly across 
 the field, aware that the corn is now too large 
 for them to pull up. 
 
 June 25. S. When a child I thought that 
 clouds were all formed of chimney smoke, 
 and wondered how there could be any in un- 
 inhabited places. 
 
 June 26, Continued working corn. Shook 
 
I20 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 out last week's grass, partly by hand, partly 
 with the tedder. Doubtless the inventor of 
 this machine had watched the backward 
 stroke of a fork in the hands of a man toss- 
 ing grass. The motion is almost exactly the 
 same. On the other hand, few processes 
 could be more unlike than the curving stroke 
 of the long scythe-blade, and the working of 
 a mower knife, which is but a great saw laid 
 flat on the ground and dragged slowly for- 
 ward with a short stroke. 
 
 June 2J. Wamba, in a familiar passage 
 of "Ivanhoe", explained that the live brute 
 was for the Saxon to feed, but dressed meat 
 for the Norman to eat, by rehearsing their 
 respective names, as "ox", "beef", "swine", 
 "pork", etc., etc. How is it with harness? 
 Collar, traces, reins, hames, terets, saddle, 
 Latin; bit, girth, throat-lash, Saxon; crupper, 
 martingale, French. The drawing, govern- 
 ing, and ornamental portions would seem to 
 come chiefly from the South. 
 
 June 28. Still haying. The crop is short 
 this year in this neighborhood, only about 
 two-thirds of what might have been expected 
 from the acreage. Cool and dry weather the 
 cause. I observe that while the wheat where 
 I sprinkled the fertilizer in April looks bet- 
 ter than it promised at one time, the young 
 clover sown thereon is utterly dead. 
 
 June 2g. Finished third cultivation of 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 121 
 
 corn yesterday. A good many clumps of 
 sod are dragged to the top, and disfigure the 
 face of the field. Two more loads of hay. 
 It is short and dry, and gusts of wind scat- 
 ter it about the field in loading. 
 
 June JO. This has been a dry and windy 
 month. Winter's snows were heavy, but they 
 melted and ran off before the earth was 
 thawed enough to soak them in. Since then 
 there have been frequent light showers, but 
 no long heavy rains, and the subsoil is very 
 dry. Nothing remains as a reserve to fall 
 back upon, if a real drought should come on. 
 
 July I. V. finished fourth cultivation of 
 corn, by working late. The field is now in 
 good clean condition, well broken up, but not 
 crumbling as heat and moisture would make 
 it do. None of the showers have been able 
 to soak through a bit of upturned sod. The 
 corn is about eighteen to twenty inches high, 
 growing pretty well, but blue with drought. 
 
 July 2. S. Shower in morning, produc- 
 ing a rainbow in the west, a rather infrequent 
 sight. Once in my life I have seen a lunar 
 rainbow. This is of necessity very rare, de- 
 pending on the coincidence of a heavy show- 
 er about 8 p. m. with the rising full moon. It 
 had the rainbow bands, in darker light, but 
 no color — which I take to be the distinguish- 
 ing mark of a ghost. 
 
2 22 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 July J. To thoroughly know one's farm, 
 one should not only till the soil, and climb 
 its trees, but descend into its depths, he 
 should be something of the miner as well as 
 farmer. The dwellers of Kentucky and Vir- 
 ginia, where caves are frequent, have here 
 an advantage, as have the Italians, on their 
 porous volcanic rocks. 
 
 July 4. Andrew Fairservice observed that 
 if there was one fair day of the seven, the 
 Sabbath was sure to lick it up. This will ap- 
 ply to the holidays which are becoming so 
 frequent, among us, and especially to the 
 Fourth of July. V. and I, being old and in- 
 different to sport, got in two loads of hay 
 anticipating the shower which almost invar- 
 iably comes on the evening of Independence 
 Day; but a young fellow would have thought 
 it hard. 
 
 July 5. Got two loads hay. This year it 
 is hard and short, containing little clover and 
 little color. They say that in a dry year the 
 grass is "half grain," and much more nutri- 
 tious than in a wet season. This seems rea- 
 sonable, and is certainly consolatory. 
 
 July 6. Cut grass. McG. came and 
 reaped our wheat with his selfbinder. The 
 machine comes turned edgeways, so that it 
 will go through gateways. Then he turns it 
 sideways, let it down, puts one of our horses 
 between his two, and reaps down the field at 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 123 
 
 the rate of an acre per hour. When we came 
 to this farm a quarter of a century ago, self- 
 binders were unknown and cradles still in 
 use. I once cradled an acre and a quarter of 
 wheat in a day, and bound some of it besides. 
 Of course, a really good cradler could do 
 much better. Mr. G's machine slips a band 
 occasionally, and an old fashioned band must 
 be substituted. Take a handful of straw, 
 hold it before you, heads up, twist half of it 
 between your left wrist and the other half, 
 bring it round and over, hold the two with 
 your left forefinger, bring the huts together 
 round the sheaf, twist and tuck in. All this 
 care is necessary to prevent the heads on the 
 band from shelling. 
 
 July 7. Two loads hay. The barn is fill- 
 ing up, and we have to pitch to the scaffold, 
 and then to the top of the mow. Showers 
 threatened, but did not reach us. Corn now 
 two to three feet high, begins to curl in the 
 afternoon, like a fore and aft vessel close 
 hauled in the wind. 
 
 July 8. Carted in wheat In afternoon. 
 Three loads, seven hundred and seventy 
 sheaves. A load of sheaf grain Is curiously 
 small, square, and solid, like a big strawen 
 hamper of corn. Several showers passed by 
 to the south as we drew It In. Their sharp 
 white edges just avoiding us, and we could 
 see and hear the streams of rain roaring 
 down from them on the wood bevond the 
 
124 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 pond — but we only got a few drops. 
 
 The amount of grain In sheaf that can be 
 got into a small barn is surprising. It is said 
 that a skilled worker can stow one third 
 more wheat in a given space than a careless 
 or unheeding hand. When flung in anyhow, 
 frequently crossing each other, or even 
 standing on end, the bundles will settle little 
 more than logs of wood, except by the burst- 
 ing of their bands; but laid on regular, even 
 courses, each time reversing top and butt, 
 they will pack down as much as their nature 
 will admit, forming a solid, yet not ill venti- 
 lated mass. When at length a bent, (the 
 space up in the roof between two rafter-girts, 
 generally about ten feet wide) has been filled 
 with the forks, until, apparently, it will hold 
 no more, a man who "takes an interest" will 
 climb into the peak, and, bracing his back 
 against the rafters, crowd the grain yet a lit- 
 tle further down, and pass in sheaf after 
 sheaf by hand, until at last he has disposed 
 of sixty or seventy bundles where there 
 seemed not room for one. Had Hamlet wit- 
 nessed such a scene? And was this his mean- 
 ing when he said "They fool me to the top of 
 my bent?" 
 
 July g. S. Quite hot, almost the first op- 
 pressive day we have had. What an exam- 
 ple of the golden mean is the human body, 
 keeping to its 98° Fahrenheit, through heat 
 and cold "aequa in arduls" for sixty years or 
 more. It suffers from both but will not yield. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 125 
 
 Its very sufferings prove its constancy. Did 
 it take the temperature like a drop of lead it 
 were not pinched. 
 
 Shakespeare troubled himself little with 
 climate; but so far as he had any, it was all 
 English. The frequent precipitation, the 
 grass and mire alternating, the thick green 
 woods, the lovely springs, the summer days 
 marked rather by length than heat, the win- 
 ter ones, more damp than cold, the plente- 
 ous springs and rivers — such was the weath- 
 er to him, whether his characters moved In 
 Britain, or Austria, Venice or Navarre, Den- 
 mark, Athens, Sicily, or Prospero's Isle. He 
 will throw in a line or two becoming the 
 place, perhaps, as the "nipping and eager 
 air" in Hamlet; but he soon reverts to the 
 willow'd pool where Ophelia makes her end, 
 and the clay of an English church-yard. 
 Snakes and Jack-o-lanterns annoy his wan- 
 derers in moony woods, but not gnats and 
 mosquitoes; floods and storms afflict his peas- 
 antry, but not droughts. The Navarresse 
 ambassadors masquerade in Russian furs 
 with no apparent discomfort; and once only 
 does he mention a sledge, as knowing that 
 but one such article existed In Britain. Sum- 
 mer's heat Is to him fantastic, not imminent 
 and terrible. Winter's cold may freeze the 
 milk in pail and pinch the shepherd's fingers, 
 but slays no man in the drifts. 
 
 July 10. Still at the haying. There al- 
 ways seems a certain impropriety in making 
 
126 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 hay after wheat harvest. I found a locus*- 
 shrilHng on one of the bean-poles. He con- 
 tinued the sound while I stood by and 
 watched him. He first set himself firmly, 
 like a man about to raise a weight, gripping 
 the pole with his feet and slightly spreading 
 his wings, so as to keep them away from the 
 body. Then expanding his abdomen so that 
 the rings were visible, like the scales in a 
 fish's body, when you bend it, he sent forth 
 his note, at first softly, while the eye could 
 follow his abdomen's dilation and contrac- 
 tion, until the scream was at its utmost, and 
 vision was too slow for the quivering rings. 
 Then it diminished, and ceased suddenly just 
 as the eye could catch the motion again. Five 
 times he repeated this while I stood by. It 
 was as though wind were forced through a 
 Venetian blind rapidly opened and closed. 
 
 July II. Another warm day. Saw two 
 roosters, whom we will call A. and B. fight- 
 ing. They had got to the point where both 
 were weary and A. could only trot closely 
 after B. occasionally overtaking and pecking 
 him. On one of these runs, B., the pursued, 
 was describing a large circle, while A. took 
 a smaller one, which, their pace being almost 
 alike, brought him of course, first abreast, 
 and then ahead of B. Without indication, 
 perhaps without consciousness, that their po- 
 sitions were changed, they kept on their way, 
 and A. but now victorious, was presently 
 overtaken, pecked, and jumped upon by B. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 127 
 
 One load hay. Light showers prevented 
 more, but, slightly revived the drooping 
 corn. 
 
 July 12. The brief moisture soon dried 
 away, and we cut the last grass, and got in 
 three loads of hay. Yesterday our older 
 brood of chicks, eight in number, and about 
 half grown, were wandering about the barn 
 as usual, when they suddenly screamed, and 
 three of them appeared running as in fright. 
 We thought it was but a passing scare from 
 a hawk or dog, and that the rest would pres- 
 ently appear, but they have been seen no 
 more. They have been bagged either by 
 man or beast, probably the former, as no re- 
 mains can be found. 
 
 July 75. Got in three loads of hay, the 
 last of the crop. Total twenty-six. Our 
 stock will devour almost all of this by next 
 haying perhaps a load or two may be sold. 
 As none of the loads were large, there might 
 be about twenty tons in all. The whole has 
 been sent aloft by human sinews. About sev- 
 enty-five pitches would go to putting a load 
 on, as many more to mowing it, say four 
 thousand total. So many heaves of human 
 dorsal and triceps muscle lie embodied there, 
 dried, salted, and stowed away for equine 
 mouths to chew and swallow. 
 
 July 14. Yesterday Charles T. whom I 
 have not seen since he emigrated to Nebras- 
 
128 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ka in 1877, nearly thirty years ago, came 
 down to see me in the field. As he drew 
 near, I saw his G. A. R. badge (he was in the 
 ist N. J. Cavalry) and wondered how I had 
 brought myself within reach of the law, at 
 first mistaking him for a policeman. He is 
 some twelve years older than I, but better 
 preserved. He first taught me the four 
 things required of a farm-hand, to plough, 
 sow, mow and milk; just as an able seaman 
 in ye olden time, must hand, reef, steer and 
 heave the lead. He spoke of going to see a 
 friend he had known in youth. "I went to 
 her place", said he, "but I found I was two 
 years too late". He seems to have done 
 well in Nebraska, despite the droughts, 
 which by his account, are terrible. 
 
 July 75. Drove out on Centerbush road, 
 and returning counted the rum holes on the 
 north side of Gaull Street alone. There 
 were eleven of them in about a mile. What- 
 ever the hardships of the Middle Ages, they 
 had one great advantage; distilled liquor 
 was practically unattainable. It is only 
 about two hundred years ago (see Hogarth) 
 that Beer Street became Gin Lane. 
 
 We find, in all pleasure, one little drop of 
 bitter. And is not that what keeps them 
 pleasures? The bee, it is said, stings each 
 cell once, to preserve the honey. The good 
 time when everything went on wheels — when 
 we did not get wet, or hungry, or bruised, 
 when nothing failed and nothing broke — is 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 129 
 
 not the good time we remember. The load 
 of hay you only just got in, between sun- 
 stroke and shower, the jump your horse 
 made across the brook, when you barely kept 
 your seat, the pull through the breakers in 
 the swamping boat, these are the things you 
 recollect with satisfaction. "Forsitan haec 
 olim meminisse juvabit". Polycrates under- 
 stood this when he tried to supply the needed 
 drop himself, by letting fall his ring in the 
 sea. Damocles, if he survived, probably 
 took more pleasure in reverting to the ban- 
 quet of the dangling sword than to any other 
 he had shared with Dionysius, and the cap- 
 tain's boy, who leaped from truck to sea, 
 under compulsion, at Port Mahon, must 
 have kept that day among his brightest mem- 
 ories. 
 
 July 16. S. Sitting down in the lane and 
 leaning my back against a big beech tree, I 
 was surprised at its coolness, ceaseless and 
 refreshing, while stones large and small, are 
 heated through and through. But of course 
 this is the life of the tree, holding its normal 
 temperature of 50° or so, conspicuous when 
 that of the air is 90° or more, and noticeable 
 in the beech beyond any other, because of its 
 smooth bark. Slumber came readily there. 
 
 How terrible our necessity for sleep 
 would appear to any one, a denizen of an- 
 other planet, for instance, who belonged to 
 an order of beings capable of rest without 
 loss of consciousness. "Of course, we all He 
 
I30 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 down at times", he might admit, "but that is 
 the season for study, conversation, mind- 
 play, and is it possible that your minds, need 
 rest as well as your bodies? Methinks that 
 militates strongly against the idea of im- 
 mortality, and makes your souls seem no 
 more than the odors of plants, or even their 
 shadows. Oh, you breathe while you slip- 
 slop — ah, pardon me, sleep, but you cannot 
 eat? that seems strange. Then if you slept 
 too long you would starve. Hunger wakes 
 you ? Then it is more a matter of body than 
 mind. Can't you ever think of anything 
 while you are in this deplorable condition? 
 Oh, you have; and you call them drams? I 
 have seen in an old book on chemistry that 
 three scruples — am I wrong — make a dram. 
 Oh, a dram is a little drink? And your free 
 thoughts are dreams. And you have no 
 scruples in them? Utterly without con- 
 science? Pardon me again, I am always 
 wrong". 
 
 July ly. A brood of eight chicks off 
 on Saturday, another of ten today. These 
 are stolen nests, and this hot weather favors 
 the young, who dart about from the first, 
 bright-eyed and alert, unlike the chilled and 
 lagging broods of April and May. Not long 
 ago a hen brought off a brood in the cow 
 barn. I saw them up there before breakfast; 
 after breakfast they were all down on the 
 ground. The only way was through a scut- 
 tle, with a drop of seven feet to the floor, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 131 
 
 and how she persuaded them to take the leap 
 I do not know. 
 
 Wings grow faster than the tail, 
 Then your chick is hke to fail; 
 Tail grows faster than the wing, 
 Then your chick will dance and sing. 
 
 July 18. Hottest day of the season. Ther- 
 mometer 100° in shade, probably 20° or 
 30° more in the sun. One darts from one 
 patch of shade to another, like one in pres- 
 ence of archers, who durst not peep beyond 
 his shield. The fowls go about holding their 
 wings away from their bodies. The horses 
 sweat in the stable. The cellar steps drip, 
 the corn, which early in the morning spread 
 its blades wide and green, seems by noon to 
 have shrunk to half the size folding its 
 leaves like the sensitive plant. It looks as 
 if the crop was done for. It cannot stand 
 many such days. 
 
 The worm, like many a nobler form of 
 life, loves equality of temperature and mois- 
 ture. In winter he goes deep into the soil, 
 too deep to be reached by ordinary digging; 
 and if an excavation brings him to the sur- 
 face, he freezes stiff before he can get down 
 again. In April, May, and June he is within 
 reach of spade or plough; after July he is 
 not often seen unless an extraordinary wet 
 spell drowns him out. Darwin has said much 
 of the good work he does in renovation of 
 the soil, and has calculated the number of 
 
132 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 cartloads per acre brought to the surface by 
 wormcasts ; which reminds me that it is years 
 since I saw a worm-cast, though I used to do 
 so frequently when a boy. Even if children's 
 eyes are not better (they generally are) they 
 are so much closer to the earth that they no- 
 tice many things on it which their adults do 
 not. The worm's one shift, when drawn 
 from his hole by the ruthless robin or black- 
 bird, is contortion. He seems sure that if he 
 could but tie a large knot in himself (and he 
 can do it, too, give him time enough) the 
 bird couldn't, or wouldn't, swallow him. Per- 
 haps this is true. 
 
 July ig. Another fiercely hot day, though 
 not quite so intense as yesterday. Mr. G. 
 came with an old-fashioned reaper, and cut 
 our oats on Farfield. This leaves them in 
 gavels (unbound sheaves) all over the field. 
 Gefaal, according to Stormouth is Welsh for 
 handful. Gavel-kind, one bunch per child. 
 In the afternoon a strong wind somewhat 
 ameliorated the heat, and we got in one load. 
 
 Walked down this afternoon through cow 
 pasture, which lies low, and is partially 
 swampy. Last time I came this way it was 
 on horseback, in May, and the animal fre- 
 quently sank deep in black clay, sending wat- 
 er squirting from under his feet. Now there 
 is no trace of water, and the soil is either 
 brick or brick-dust, saving its color. The 
 dark earth has grown white with drought, 
 and resembles a cracked and dirty china 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 133 
 
 plate. The bushes have mostly been de- 
 voured by the cattle, failing grass; but at one 
 or two places, where they have grown thicker 
 and faster than they could be torn down, the 
 dark clumps of foliage, impenetrable by the 
 sun, are lighted beneath by reflection from 
 the chalky soil. No sassafras leaf is left, 
 and no beech leaf would be left if any grew 
 here; both possess peculiar sweetness. Wire 
 weed gives an appearnce of verdure to much 
 of the open field, almost as specious as if it 
 were covered with gauze wire netting. Even 
 the little ditch at one side is dry and hard 
 and white, like a mammoth rut in a dusty 
 road. The fence posts are gnawed closely 
 around, as by a square tool. 
 
 July 20. Cloudy and cooler. Drew in 
 three loads oats, with V. and L. The gavels 
 are handled with so called barley forks, 
 made entirely of wood, with three tines 
 about two feet long, and a curved wooden 
 spring above them, so that the oats are held 
 down and kept from scattering. One on each 
 side pitches to the man on the load, going 
 around the field and taking six rows at a 
 time. As the oats lie with their heads all one 
 way, and as said heads must all go inward, 
 some dexterity is required. The man on the 
 side where the heads are away from the wag- 
 on has only to turn his fork half over to 
 place them "deliverly" as Chaucer says, but 
 the other must either turn about with each 
 gavel, or get close to the wagon, and then 
 
134 A FARMER^S NOTE BOOK 
 
 send the bunch backwards and sideways over 
 his head. 
 
 July 21. Much cooler. Got in four loads 
 oats, which cleared the field. Undoubtedly 
 a good crop. I think it is two hundred bush- 
 els. V. says three, but the lesser amount is 
 good for this brick-bat of a field, as it looked 
 in March. Clay for oats, loam for grass, 
 sand for corn. We have been a good deal 
 bothered by the dewberry vines, sometimes 
 ten or twelve feet long, which trip the fork 
 as we lift them. There are also not a few 
 docks, now seeding, and showing rusty on 
 the yellow field. Otherwise, the crop is pret- 
 ty clean. 
 
 July 22. Hoed away roots. There is a 
 sparrow's nest by the row of carrots, and 
 every time I draw near the young lift up 
 their heavy heads and large mouths. Why 
 are the chicks of the domestic fowl so downy 
 and pretty, and those of the wild birds so 
 naked and hideous? Among beasts beauty 
 goes with legs. Those with long limbs, as the 
 horse, the deer, the giraffe, are graceful; 
 those with short, stumpy ones, as the hippo- 
 potamus and the toad, are ugly and awk- 
 ward, while the snake, which has none at all, 
 is an object of horror. 
 
 The caterpillar is elevated some steps in 
 the social scale above the worm, by the fact 
 of his wearing clothes and shoes; and proba- 
 bly he makes much of these distinctions and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 135 
 
 looks down on his grovelling relative, who 
 has less to carry. There is much variety in 
 their coats. I remember (again to recur to 
 childhood's hours) lemon color, black, 
 brown, either of these last two belted with 
 the other, and pure white with a yellow tuft. 
 This last, however, was of a feeble constitu- 
 tion, unequal to the strenuous task of racing, 
 which was our chief use for them. Urged on 
 by a straw or bristle, they would develop re- 
 markable speed, but it was difficult to make 
 them run straight, while if goaded overmuch, 
 they would "quit" like donkeys and roll 
 themselves into balls. Many persons can 
 still remember the inch, or measuring worms, 
 of the fifties, and the ailantus tree, introduced 
 from China as proof against their voracity. 
 Touching these worms, a story is told of a 
 popular preacher of those days, who had a 
 son, 'T', said the old gentleman, "am like 
 the inch-worm. I lift my head, I set 
 It here and there. At last, when sure 
 of my ground, I move along. But 
 my son is like the grasshopper. Up he goes, 
 and no one can tell where he will come down 
 again". 
 
 July 2j. S. A fine rain through the night 
 and early morning, coming most opportunely 
 to revive the corn, now the oats are stowed. 
 In the afternoon I walked over Longfield. 
 The maize has spread forth Its banners, and 
 almost hides the earth. The blades, no long- 
 er blue and slimy, are dark green, bristling 
 
136 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 with papillae, like a cat's tongue. Yet here 
 and there is a stalk with a dead tassel-shoot 
 baked by the sun, and here a dry spot of soil, 
 under a sod or stone. The rain was only 
 just in time to save the crop from utter ex- 
 tinction. 
 
 Well do I remember the place where the 
 roller overtook me. I had been traversing 
 the field with that conveyance, the hour of six 
 sounded, and I drove toward the bars. Un- 
 luckily, I had put the short reins on the team, 
 which necessitated my walking beside the off 
 horse, instead of going behind. I got a little 
 too close, the frame struck my hip, knocking 
 me over, and next moment the big half-ton 
 log was crushing my legs into the earth. Like 
 Chaucer's carter, "Under the whele ful low 
 I lay adowne". Though my voice seemed 
 suddenly summoned to my nether man, I 
 yelled "WHOA!" as loudly as possible. This 
 order it was well for me the horses did not 
 instantly obey. The reins were dragged 
 from my hands, the roller passed off me 
 somewhere above the knees, and then came 
 to a stop, as the team halted. Lying slanted 
 outward, my body had escaped. I rose, feel- 
 ing as if I had just suffered a severe attack of 
 foot-binding, looked at the deep mark re- 
 maining in the soft earth, if perchance aught 
 of me yet lay there, scrambled on the roller, 
 and was trundled up to the house. The 
 crushing was painful, but not serious, and in 
 two days I was afield again. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 137 
 
 July 24. Walked yesterday to Mr. N.'s 
 walnut field. It has woods on two sides, a 
 deep ditch on a third, a thick hedgerow on 
 the fourth. It bears a fine crop of fodder 
 corn on one side, on the other flourishing 
 mangels and potatoes. To eastward, the 
 mansion across half a mile of smooth lawn- 
 like meadow suggests an English estate, but 
 the walnut field itself a pioneer's clearing. 
 
 George Meredith has written a poem on 
 the echo of the woodman's axe, which might 
 have been, but was not, entitled "Hew and 
 Cry". The classic conception of the mock- 
 ing nymph, who wasted away until nothing 
 was left but bones and a voice, is ingenious, 
 if not as pretty as some; but did the Greeks 
 never hear echoes in their great empty tem- 
 ples? Or did they never speak loudly 
 enough there to rouse them? Even a small 
 room will give that miniature echo we call 
 a "ring", and perhaps, if such a sound was 
 ever produced, it was taken for the voice of 
 offended deity. A close growth of wood- 
 land will give back the sound almost as well 
 as a rock, and so, in a less degree, will clouds, 
 and even, if I mistake not, a strong up-rush- 
 ing flame. Whether there is such a thing as 
 a perpendicular echo only aviators are likely 
 to be in position to judge. But setting this 
 aside, evidently, as a rule, the valley-man 
 alone can get the echo; the more lowly you 
 work, the more it comes back to and tells 
 upon you ; only the man on the height can be 
 sure that he is a centre of outfluence. 
 
138 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 July 25. Hoed beets, where the couch 
 grass, negligible during the drought, is 
 springing up with wondrous vigor. The un- 
 derground stems of this grass are exceed- 
 ingly keen at the tips, almost able to pierce 
 one's finger, quite able to grow through a 
 beet or potato which happens to lie in the 
 way. 
 
 Everything nowadays must have a wrap- 
 per. The sugar, flour, etc., which we used to 
 buy in bulk, and take away packed in a cone 
 of paper. Is now sold in bags of sizes to suit 
 all tastes; the soap, which used to lie in great 
 yellow bars without a thought of improprie- 
 ty, is now done up in neat checked suits ; the 
 honey sometime exposed in a milk-pan to the 
 view of all, is pent In walls of glass, as well 
 as the molasses, which once abode sulkily in 
 Its hogshead; the raisins, the oranges, the 
 pepper, all these naked little savages were 
 dressed. And to ascend higher, Is not every 
 book now sent forth with a neat paper coat, 
 containing a wealth of information on all 
 subjects and some others? And is it not 
 thought necessary for every person who 
 takes a bath to have a bath-robe to wear on 
 the way. Instead of going to the bath-room, 
 as of old, in one's clothes? If there was one 
 thing which might have been expected to go 
 bare to the end of time, it was a brick. 
 Rough, cheap, intended to stand weather 
 and change, wherefore should it be clad? 
 Yet on this very day I met a teamster driving 
 a cart loaded with what I presently saw to 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 139 
 
 be bricks, each In a neat paper wrapper, like 
 laundry soap. 
 
 July 26. Snakes have been very scarce 
 this year, have only seen two or three before 
 today. On this place we have only three va- 
 rieties — the striped or garter snake, the 
 black snake, and the puff adder. This last is 
 the only venomous variety, though I hardly 
 suppose its bite would be fatal. It is check- 
 ered in light and dark brown squares, and 
 puffs itself out with air when alarmed — 
 hence its name. Shakespeare well distin- 
 guishes between the harmless snakes, solid 
 colored or striped, and the noxious ones, 
 checked or barred, in warning off 
 
 "Ye spotted snakes with double tongue", 
 
 from his fairy queen. 
 
 Snakes are frequently depicted as coiling 
 round a tree or branch, but the only time I 
 ever saw one in a tree he was carefully bal- 
 ancing himself on the upper side of a limb, 
 availing himself of every twig and projection 
 of the bark, but making no attempt to coil. 
 
 July z'j. R. dug his Irish cobbler pota- 
 toes. They are very early but not a heavy 
 yield. His plan is to turn them out with a 
 digger, and then go over the ground pulling 
 them out of the loose earth with small short- 
 handled, wooden toothed rakes. 
 
 This, to a considerable extent avoids cut- 
 
140 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ting and bruising them as, I have stated 
 above, a hoe or fork will generally do. Al- 
 most every kind of fruit or vegetable is read- 
 ily broken or contused, and must be handled 
 with care. Mrs. Moodie, an early emigrant 
 to Canada, tells how a friendly Indian once 
 brought her a present of wild grapes in a 
 sack made of his shirt, tied at neck and 
 wrists. When she hesitated to partake, he 
 said that he would have taken his coat, but 
 feared the weight would crush them, and, 
 turning to the children, confidently observed 
 "Papoose no care for dirty shirt". I have 
 known a carpet-bag, filled with currants, to 
 be dripping freely ere its journey ended — 
 and I also remember once, taking some 
 crates of blackberries to town in the heavy 
 wagon, the spring cart being in some way 
 disabled. The road was rough, the horses 
 were slow, but did not for that avoid the 
 stones. The berries reached market beauti- 
 fully crimson of hue, instead of black; and 
 finding no favor in the eyes of tasteless deal- 
 ers, had to be disposed of at an alarming 
 sacrifice, for instant use. 
 
 July 28, Finished hoeing beets. They 
 stand in the row like peg tops, five-sixths of 
 them above ground. And the peg is very lia- 
 ble to break. Between each row of beets lies 
 a line of couch grass, beaten but unsubdued, 
 like the Russians at Kunersdorf. 
 
 Ours are sugar beets. The mangel-wurzel 
 (root of need) a later, redder, and taller va- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 141 
 
 riety, stand still more out of the ground and 
 will produce a greater bulk and weight to 
 the acre than anything that grows, except 
 timber. And indeed a well-grown patch of 
 mangel-wurzels greatly resembles one of 
 those forests Dore was so fond of depicting 
 for the poems of Dante and Tennyson. The 
 resemblance is made more complete by lying 
 on the ground and looking up at them, when 
 the great gnarled trunks, occupying more 
 space than the air between them, the rough 
 bare ground beneath, and the short prospect 
 for vision or missile call vividly up those 
 woods through which Geraint bore Enid, or 
 from which Bertrand de Born issued bear- 
 ing his head. True, dense foliage above is 
 wanting, but though Dore gives the resultant 
 darkness below, he seldom elaborates leaf- 
 age, confining himself mostly to the stem. 
 Of his sylvan sketches it may be said with 
 fullest truth, "You cannot see the wood for 
 the trees". 
 
 July 2g. Went around the place, putting 
 up signs against trespassing with dog and 
 gun. The gunning season begins November 
 loth, and notices must be put up three 
 months beforehand, there must be at least 
 three of them on each property, and they 
 must be more than three feet from the 
 ground. If the requirements are not legal, 
 they are at any rate firmly rooted in the opin- 
 ions of gunners, who, when every particular 
 has been complied with, will pay such regard 
 
142 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 to the notices as happens to suit their own 
 convenience. 
 
 July ^0. S. Discovered that a cornerstone 
 at one angle of Longfield (ancient landmark) 
 had been pounded to pieces with boulders by 
 some idler. It was of grey slate, about six 
 inches square by two feet high, and had been 
 broken off level with the ground, and then 
 splintered up. This is a peculiarly wanton 
 piece of mischief, as it could in no way ad- 
 vantage the perpetrator. "Qui a terre, a 
 guerre". 
 
 Who has not seen a coat, towel, or other 
 like article, thrown carelessly on a chair fall 
 into some resemblance to the human face or 
 figure? I recall a picnic party, many years 
 ago, when the soiled dishes were piled in a 
 long heap on the table, and covered with 
 the cloth. Coming that way later, I was 
 struck by the likeness of the heap's outline to 
 a veiled and prostrate female. Though strik- 
 ing, the incident would soon have been for- 
 gotten but for the sudden death of the 
 youngest girl of our party, a little later. 
 
 Knots, embers, and icicles are fertile in 
 these likenesses, and so, as Hamlet observed, 
 are clouds. A big boulder guarding a fence 
 corner nearby here has an indication of the 
 human countenance not greatly inferior to 
 that of the Sphinx. Have seen three or four 
 leaves, trampled together by a cow, bear a 
 semblance to a fat German, booted and 
 bearded, playing a mandolin. The sawed off 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 143 
 
 stub of a broken tree has suggested Silenus. 
 The shadows, or rather stains left on apples 
 and pears by adhering leaves will go still 
 further and indeed have been availed of hy 
 the grower to furnish inscriptions and de- 
 vices; but here we get beyond the lines of 
 accident. 
 
 July J/. Oats are specially liable to heat 
 in the mow, so today I examined those housed 
 ten days ago. A sweet steamy odor rises 
 from them, as is natural, but nothing exces- 
 sive. The "sweating" process takes from 
 two to three weeks, somewhat resembling in- 
 cubation, both in its duration, and in the cir- 
 cumstance that eggs must hatch or spoil. On 
 the only occasion when we had our oats cut 
 with a self-binder they heated unmistakably. 
 The scorching odor could be perceived to 
 leeward of the barn, and each sheaf was so 
 hot that the hand could hardly be thrust into 
 it. Conflagration was averted by pulling the 
 central bunch from each sheaf; but about 
 a quarter of the crop was spoiled. Since 
 then we have always had our oats cut on the 
 loose gavel plan. 
 
 August I. Several heavy showers have 
 kept the corn going, and it is now tasselling 
 out. It is fairly good on part of the three 
 acre, and on the hither end, where cabbages 
 were set five years ago. Some of the stalks 
 at these places are flattened like the leg-bone 
 of a horse, which always indicates vigorous 
 
144 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 growth. But a large portion midway down 
 the field is small and poor. Observing that 
 one hill had fallen, I went to ascertain the 
 cause, and found that the inmates of an ant- 
 hill near by, probably taking advantage of 
 some wound inflicted on the young plant by 
 the cultivator, had hollowed out the stalks 
 to get at the sweet pith, until the corn fell by 
 its own weight. 
 
 August 2, Carting manure, which has 
 been accumulating during the busy season, 
 down to field number three on Cherry Lawn 
 for next year's potatoes. K. despatched a 
 chicken-killing dog in his hen-house a few 
 nights ago. He graphically described how 
 he rushed down without stopping to dress, 
 and shot the dog, surrounded by the bodies 
 of his victims, through a wire netting. 
 
 "Air", one has said, "is like a rope; you 
 can pull it, but you can't push it". In view 
 of the possibilities of compressed air, as 
 shown in the pop-gun and other lethal weap- 
 ons, this statement might be questioned. At 
 any rate, it is certain that air can be pushed 
 from the human lungs shaped into missiles 
 which pelt and hurt the bestial ear, and cause 
 the owners of said ears to go wither we 
 would. But how different are the missiles ! 
 "Git", to horses, "Whey" to cows, "Get 
 out", to dogs, "Scat", to cats, "Shoo", to 
 fowls. The natives of India, when driving 
 elephants, shout "Dak! dak I" a cry which 
 seems very effective, not only with elephants, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 145 
 
 but all domestic animals, as I have frequently 
 proved. Perhaps It conveys to them some 
 grievous alarm, some ancient malediction, 
 which leaves them no Idea but of escape. It 
 Is much easier to -drive a herd or flock than 
 a single beast. Gregarlousness keeps them 
 together, numbers make your target larger 
 and more readily hit. Though at first sight It 
 might not appear, it Is certain that intracta- 
 bility on the part of the urged assists the urg- 
 er. For as, to go back to the analogy we set 
 out with, a rope is more easily led than driv- 
 en, iron nails are more easily driven than 
 lead. 
 
 When one would capture animals, Instead 
 of driving them — attract rather than repel — 
 their most ancient designation is had re- 
 course to, by way, as It were, of flattering 
 their racial pride. Thus, horses are called 
 "cope", suggesting the Greek "hippos", cows 
 "cush", "co-bos" or "sukee", going back to 
 Aryan or Latin, pigs "chuk-chuk" Turanian 
 for hog, cats "puss", her old Egyptian name. 
 This flattery tells upon them and, conceited 
 and pleased, they make nearer and nearer 
 approaches, only to find themselves — the 
 larger animals at least — again beguiled into 
 slavery. Various forms of passive resist- 
 ance follow their disillusionment, such as the 
 cow's holding up of her milk, something ana- 
 logous to our holding breath, the horse's 
 blowing himself out with air to avoid being 
 girthed, etc. Pretending lameness is said to 
 be practiced by English animals, though this 
 
146 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 I have never seen. Weariness Is often cured 
 by turning the head homeward. A horse 
 going on a line parallel to his stable may of- 
 ten be observed, at each corner, throwing his 
 body as far as possible in that direction, 
 while his head is kept away by the rein. 
 
 August S' Dug a few potatoes. They 
 are small and poor, the drought having hit 
 them hard. The water from R's spring, de- 
 liciously cold in May and June, is still clear, 
 but so tepid as to be unpalatable. The spring 
 is only about eight feet deep in a sand bank, 
 and evidently the summer heats reach its 
 source. Another spring under an oak on 
 Farfield is thick and undrinkable by this. 
 
 "The rank is but the guinea stamp. 
 The man's the gowd for a' that". 
 
 Burns observed, in one of those poems full 
 of refrain — so called, apparently, because 
 you don't refrain — where a few telling sen- 
 tences will go a great way. But to descend 
 from rank to title, at what point does the 
 name become more important than the per- 
 son? We say "the Smith baby", "the Brown 
 boy", "the Jones girl", without a thought of 
 deprivation. But when we speak of "the 
 Brown man", or "the Jones woman", Mr. 
 Brown and Mrs. Jones are, one feels, to 
 some extent, belittled. Hence it is evident 
 that at some stage of adolescence — say 
 about sixteen — the name, to some extent. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 147 
 
 gains supremacy over the being who bears it. 
 Hence, also, these cheap and handy titles pre- 
 fixed in olden time, when but one name could 
 be had for most folks — Goody Bridget, Un- 
 cle Tom, and the like. Another step down- 
 ward, and the custom prevailed of ascribing 
 some desirable quality to the casual inferior, 
 "my good fellow", "mon brave", "pretty 
 one" "galantuomo", and the like. Lastly, 
 when you had no immediate use for said in- 
 ferior, or thought alarm might more avail 
 than flattery, he was saddled with some 
 odious attribute, as the intimation that he 
 was far from resembling the spicy shores of 
 Araby the Blest. From this it is but a step 
 to the rank with which we set out, and the 
 wheel has come full circle. 
 
 August 4. The hedgerow Mr. N. broke 
 last year is now showing a good stand of 
 fodder corn in drills. When a thick growth 
 of poison ivy has been removed, thoroughly 
 grubbed out, the land is always rich and mel- 
 low for a year or two. The soil just within 
 said hedgerow is remarkable for its purple 
 tint. I think Homer would have called it 
 "wine-colored". 
 
 Passing the corn-field today, while the 
 wind blew stifiiy, what was the pleasure the 
 waving maize afforded the eye? As far as I 
 could analyze the sensation, it both exceeded 
 and differed from that afforded by the waves 
 on tall grain or grass so often referred to. 
 
148 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 "And waves of shadow went over the 
 wheat". 
 
 That is a pretty sight, well described; but 
 the tumultuous rush and flutter of the great 
 corn blades not only suggested fire rather 
 than water, but was divergently fashioned in 
 some way not at first apparent, but, on con- 
 sideration, resulting from the planting of the 
 corn in regular rows, four feet each way. 
 These preserve a military regularity during 
 calm, but are driven into utter confusion by 
 a gust of wind. And is not this what we 
 like in literature? The vagaries of nomads, 
 the intention of the grasshopper do not in- 
 terest us. But take a character, not especial- 
 ly strong perhaps, but anchored and held to 
 a definite place by discipline, ritual, conven- 
 tion — a soldier, a priest, a matron — let such 
 an one be fluttered and swayed by passion's 
 wind, from whatever quarter, until place Is 
 ignored and rules are forgotten, behold, we 
 sympathize. 
 
 August 5. The seventeen-year locust vis- 
 ited this vicinity (in his thousands, that Is, 
 for a few come every year) In 1877, again in 
 1894. The rude W. on their wings is said to 
 mean war; and this was satisfactorily car- 
 ried out by the Russo-Turkish war on the 
 first of these dates, the Chino-Japanese on 
 the second. They were most numerous about 
 the first of June, when their noise was deaf- 
 ening. And their mark can still be seen on 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 149 
 
 the young twigs they cut off then, leaving 
 swollen rings. They are due again in 191 1. 
 
 How often do we hear disputes over re- 
 lationships. "He's her second cousin". "No, 
 her uncle". "Why, don't you remember, 
 Sam married Mary, in '74", etc., etc. Yet 
 these are matters of perfect familiarity and 
 daily observation. How much more puz- 
 zling would they be to a visitor from another 
 planet, where population was kept up by some 
 kind of inarching or layering, men producing 
 men, and women, women. The result of 
 course, would be that in a few years there 
 would be neither sex nor relatives. The au- 
 thor of "Black Beauty" holds that these last 
 do not exist among animals, the maternal 
 connection, for a short time, alone excepted. 
 This is, I suppose, the cause of the slight 
 shock we generally feel when the terms "sis- 
 ter" or "brother" are applied to any brutes 
 beyond infancy; while as to cousinly or avun- 
 cular ties, no one thinks of asserting them in 
 their behalf. Perhaps sex in the vegetable 
 kingdom is nowhere more apparent than in 
 the dioecious white pine, two of which, grow- 
 ing near together, with a crowd of vigorous 
 saplings springing up around their trunks, 
 strongly suggest the evergreen and gigantic 
 Baucis and Philemon. 
 
 August 6. S. More showers. Corn crop 
 now well provided for, if not assured. The 
 ancients were accustomed to erect an altar or 
 shrine to the gods whenever lightning had 
 
I50 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 struck. If that were now the custom, our 
 neighborhood would be thickly sprinkled 
 with them; for I know of four places within 
 sight of our house where the bolt descended, 
 and as many more within a few minutes' 
 walk. On one of these occasions, it struck a 
 large buttonwood tree, then ran along a wire 
 which stayed up a trellis near by, scorched 
 the top of the trellis, and reached the eaves 
 of the house by another short wire, along 
 the gutter, splintering it in transit, and finally 
 down a window frame to the ground, having 
 nearly described a circle. The tree showed 
 a close reticulation of streaks and grooves 
 for more than a year, as if it had been cov- 
 ered with a fish net, but survived. Another 
 tree, an oak, was split from top to bottom, 
 in 1904, one large fragment, just the length 
 and shape of a fence rail, even to the tenons 
 at the ends, being flung out of it to some dis- 
 tance. 
 
 August 7. Ploughing oat stubble for 
 wheat. When In Italy In 1899, I saw this 
 operation going on. Each plough was drawn 
 by five or six animals, generally oxen, some- 
 times buffaloes, and after It came a gang of 
 men and women, hacking up the furrows 
 with mattocks. This was the equivalent of 
 our first harrowing, and no doubt very satis- 
 factory In result, where labor enough can be 
 had. 
 
 How hath the drover passed away! For- 
 ty, even thirty years ago, when meat was 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 151 
 
 brought in on the hoof, he and his charge 
 were a frequent sight In cities small and 
 great. A sudden stoppage of traffic, a cry of 
 "Here's some cattle !" a flight of timid per- 
 sons into gateways or up porches, and for a 
 few minutes the street was but a channel for 
 the farm's condensed product — terrified, sus- 
 picious, potent. Or it might be a flock of 
 sheep, dusty and shambling, yet ready to 
 rush like a stream in the wrong direction, 
 their brace of drivers, (which ingenuous 
 youth took for real shepherds, fallen from 
 their high estate) constantly bawling to the 
 bystanders "Head 'em off!" And how once 
 In a while, never as often as we hoped, a 
 stray steer would break from his fellows, 
 and charge all In his path, determined on a 
 hero's death. All has gone by. Messrs. 
 Fleet, Brigandine & Company send us beef 
 and mutton from a distance that would wear 
 any hoof to the quick, done up in neat bur- 
 lap jackets or shiny tin cans, and the greasy 
 drover has become a motorman or chauffeur 
 
 August 8. Coming through New York I 
 could not but contrast the multitudes of men 
 in the prime of life who sit listless on the 
 benches In the parks, with the few country- 
 men, mostly old men or boys, who labor in 
 the fields. Something must be amiss when 
 there is such congestion at one place, such de- 
 pletion at another. Of course, farmers 
 could not pay the wages these fellows would 
 like. Four dollars a day or so, but would 
 
152 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 not small wages be better than idleness? 
 
 "My offense is rank" the French noble of 
 1792 might have quoted from Shakespeare. 
 And certainly, then and since, nothing of- 
 fends more than the assumption of superior- 
 ity by those who have some right to make it. 
 In the United States, especially, the unpar- 
 donable sin is, not offense, not omission, but 
 the making objection to the doings of others. 
 Trespass is nothing, but he who resents tres- 
 pass is an enemy of mankind. Pilfering is 
 venial; but whoso objects to pilfering is, at 
 the very least, far gone in avarice. Destruc- 
 tion of animal life is rather fine than other- 
 wise; but the critic thereof deserves to have 
 the rifle turned upon himself. Indeed, when 
 said destruction is practiced on a sufficiently 
 large scale, and by a sufficiently Great Per- 
 sonage, I have heard it stated that the G. P. 
 had got an indulgence from the Smithsonian 
 to shoot anything in sight. 
 
 Divorce is a small matter, but those op- 
 posed to divorce are Pharisees and hypo- 
 crites. A murderer should be pardoned; 
 but not he who refuses to associate with the 
 murderer. In fact, the only kind of offense 
 which can be safely resented here seems to 
 be the lighter forms of personal assault, as 
 horsewhipping or kissing. 
 
 August g. The thrashers have reached 
 our vicinity, and today V. is helping on R's. 
 place. This is one of the results of labor 
 scarcity quoted above. Machines are brought 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 153 
 
 into use, and then the farmers change with 
 each other; first A. helping B., then B. help- 
 ing A. Thus, working double tides, they are 
 enabled to live, and get a few cents or a lit- 
 tle food ahead, to hand out to the starving 
 poor (Supra) when they leave the park 
 benches, and come on the tramp, either sin- 
 gly, or in a Coxey's army. 
 
 One sign of our decadence which has not 
 attracted the attention it deserves, is the mul- 
 tiplying of bath-rooms. It is not so many 
 years ago that a bath-room in a country 
 house was a decided rarity, while even in 
 city residences they were not always found. 
 Now every little cottage and villa must have 
 one or two, larger and more pretentious res- 
 idences three, six or eight. I have even 
 known the prospective tenant of a shore cot- 
 tage standing within a stone's throw of the 
 Atlantic Ocean, to inquire "if the plumbing 
 was in perfect order". 
 
 We should pause and reflect what this 
 crop of water blisters indicates. When the 
 Romans degenerated they also built baths, 
 some of whose ruins remain unto this day. 
 Who has not wondered at the Baths of Cara- 
 calla? But was Caracalla an exemplary per- 
 son? It is true that the Roman baths were 
 patterned after — or before — our depart- 
 ment stores, true also that our bath-rooms 
 are on the lines of the Roman cubicular dor- 
 mitories, but the dropsical condition it de- 
 notes makes national dissolution seem peril- 
 ously near. 
 
154 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 August 10. The thrashers came early this 
 morning, and we, having risen at five, were 
 ready for them. Beside the two operators 
 of the machine, our gang consisted of S. aged 
 62, V. aged 59, P. aged 54, K. aged 40, L 
 and an unknown Itahan about 30, and F. 
 aged 16. It will be observed that most of us 
 would not have been subject to conscription. 
 One man tends the engine, one feeds the 
 thrasher, one measures and removes the 
 grain. One man sits close above the feeder 
 cutting the bands and pitching sheaves down 
 '^n the table, to fetch the sheaves to this last, 
 two, or three take away the straw. The 
 wheat, about forty bushels, was soon run off. 
 Then a light shower stopped work for half 
 an hour or so, but it passed, and we began on 
 the oats. This was harder work, as they lay 
 loose, and some of them had to be dragged 
 from the other end of the barn. The feeder, 
 wearing a mask to keep his eyes and throat 
 from the acrid dust, receives the armfuls of 
 grain, and switching them right and left on 
 the table, constantly thrusts them into the 
 thrasher's maw. The machine sends forth 
 a constant loud hum, like a bee of Brobdig- 
 nag, occasionally rising to a shrill scream of 
 indignation if the supply intermits for a mo- 
 ment, from its side spouts a thin jet of grain, 
 and from its rear tumbles a stream of chewed- 
 up straw. The thrashing was finished and 
 the men departed about four, V., as is custo- 
 mary, taking the team to the next place with 
 our team. A common remark at parting is 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 155 
 
 "we were glad to see ye come, and we're glad 
 to see ye go". 
 
 August II. Spent the day stowing away 
 grain and straw. The wheat as I said, turned 
 out forty bushels total, from three acres, 
 thirteen bushels per acre, last year sixteen. 
 This is below the national average. Oats one 
 hundred and eighty-nine bushels from scant 
 six and a half acres, thirty bushels per acre; 
 a fair crop, tho' not equal to estimates. The 
 straw heaps were slightly dampened by yes- 
 terday's shower, but by pulling out from be- 
 low until the sun had dried the stack-tops, we 
 managed to get all into the barn in good 
 shape. 
 
 August 12. Went down to Ortley. More 
 heavy showers, which will hinder the plow- 
 ing at home ; but one has great satisfaction in 
 thinking that the thrashing is over, and all 
 under cover. The R. R. to Ortley runs 
 through the battle-ground of Monmouth 
 (June 28, 1778). We have become famil- 
 iar with every foot of ground. Engllshtown, 
 whence the Americans set forth, the country 
 over which they charged, Tenant Church, 
 where the wounded were carried, the spot 
 where Washington met the retreating Conti- 
 nentals, the spot where he met and rebuked 
 Lee, Molly Pitcher's well, whence she was 
 drawing water for her husband when he was 
 killed and she took his place, St. Peter's 
 Church, Freehold, where the British wound- 
 
156 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ed were carried, and where Colonel Munck- 
 ton lies buried — all these, Tenant Church ex- 
 cepted, are within a stone's throw of the 
 track. And over all shines the sun, which 
 poured down his rays so hotly on that day 
 that a hundred men fell dead of heat apop- 
 lexy without receiving a wound. 
 
 Ortley is mostly barren sand, but near the 
 old farm house there are bits of mucky soil 
 where was a sort of garden — a few rows of 
 corn and potatoes. Then come the marsh 
 islands which will bear nothing but salt hay. 
 Ortley has its legend of the eponymist who 
 cast his eye on a little creek running into the 
 sea, and thought to deepen the channel, and 
 make a harbor for sea-going vessels. Hav- 
 ing done his best to that end he waited for 
 wind and wave to be his allies. For a season 
 or two they worked in his favor, scouring 
 out the channel wider and deeper every tide; 
 and he fondly anticipated the day when fleets 
 of all nations should enter his harbor, bring- 
 ing fame and wealth. Then, as is their wont, 
 the currents of air and sea turned contrary, 
 filling the creek with blowing sand, and form- 
 ing a bar across its mouth. He then com- 
 menced misanthrope, married, and reared a 
 family, whom, by way of being revenged on 
 mankind, he would not educate, and laid his 
 bones, like Timon, amid salt marsh and 
 stinging brier. 
 
 August /J. S. Ortley consists of four cot- 
 tages, one hotel, one chapel, and one bowling 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 157 
 
 alley, now levelled by the wind. This on the sea 
 side. On the bayside are two more cottages, 
 and the farmhouse where dwelt the epony- 
 mist. It is a gritty Eden with a few adders 
 below, and many little winged serpents, hight 
 mosquitoes, above. 
 
 The growth of sand dunes may be well ob- 
 served at Ortley. Many years ago, when 
 the place was first laid out, the sandy hil- 
 locks, or bluffs, from five to fifteen feet high, 
 which marked the extreme limit of high tide, 
 were cut down, carted away, and used to 
 form streets and avenues. The result of this 
 ill advised proceeding was that the ocean 
 took advantage of the gap thus presented, 
 undermined one of the houses in an alarm- 
 ing manner, and threatened the destruction 
 of all. Upon this, three of the cottages were 
 moved back a hundred feet or so landward. 
 Then the wind piled the sand into the hol- 
 lows they had left, a thick growth of beach 
 grass sprung up, and in another twenty years, 
 the bluffs bid fair to be restored by Nature's 
 hand, if she be not interfered with further. 
 Here and there, where the old bluffs are cut 
 into by sea or shovel, an ancient mast or hulk 
 may be seen projecting from the hill's face. 
 It must have been hove up there when the 
 beach's level was little above the sea's, then 
 piled over deeply with arenaceous deposit, 
 then overgrown, and finally disinterred as 
 above. 
 
 August 14. Strong east wind, which takes 
 
158 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 away the mosquitoes aforesaid, and casts 
 them into the bay. The swallows await and 
 catch them in the lee of the station buildings. 
 There must have been from a thousand to 
 twelve hundred of these same swallows 
 perched on the telegraph wires near the said 
 station. Sixty to a length, four lengths to a 
 section (between two poles) about five sec- 
 tions occupied. 
 
 With the development of aviation, we are 
 likely to learn more about clouds when near- 
 ly approached. Probably the thin and unsub- 
 stantial stratus or cirrus would differ but lit- 
 tle from a fog-bank, when entered, nor 
 would one be able to tell the exact moment of 
 arrival and departure. But the clear-cut cum- 
 ulus, or thunder-head, standing sharp as a 
 brazen helmet against the sky, must, on near 
 appreach, present a front definite and un- 
 qualified; and penetration of its mass can 
 hardly differ from a plunge into the sea. 
 
 Clouds coming in rapid succession from 
 the north-west may often be observed, when 
 nearing the coast, to meet a check, and prac- 
 tically disappear, as they attain the beach 
 line, even when no easterly current Is per- 
 ceptible. Nor is this altogether confined to 
 the coast. I remember on a cold winter's 
 day, well inland, when wind-clouds came 
 thickly from the north, that as they reached 
 what seemed like a belt, or zone, across the 
 sky some twenty degrees wide, they would 
 waste and melt away, like lumps of sugar in 
 water, and on passing this strip, recover, to 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 159 
 
 some extent, their size and shape, proceeding 
 as before. 
 
 August 75. Sailing on the bay. All the 
 upper part of Barnegat Bay on the ocean 
 side, Is an oozy flat, from six to eighteen 
 Inches deep at high-tide, Intersected by chan- 
 nels of four to fifteen feet. They are mostly 
 full of eel-grass, which goes out of sight 
 when the tide is up, but Is much In evidence at 
 the ebb. That craft known as the Barnegat 
 sneak-box Is best adapted to these conditions, 
 and may be found of all sizes, from six to 
 thirty feet. 
 
 Waterspouts are rare visitors In our lati- 
 tude; but something resembling one I have 
 seen at Ortley. The morning had been 
 squally and thunderous, obliging me to re- 
 turn In haste from a sailing trip, and leave 
 my boat anchored In an unusual place ; about 
 three p. m. wind and rain somewhat abating, 
 I went to work her Into her accustomed 
 berth. As I approached her the heavens 
 darkened again, and I rowed hard, hoping to 
 shelter from the rain in her fore-peak. Just 
 as I reached her, a louder roar than that of 
 rain was heard from the bay, and on looking 
 westward, I saw a whirlwind rushing by, at 
 perhaps half a mile's distance, heaving the 
 water up Into a great mound of white foam, 
 perhaps five feet high by thirty across. There 
 was no answering component from the 
 clouds, nor did the water seem drawn 
 smoothly upward, but rather flew spattering 
 
i6o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 out from the progressing whiteness, as from 
 a twirhng mop. I could not see what hap- 
 pened when it struck the land, as an island in- 
 tervened, but what was evidently the same 
 gust came round on half circle, tore a door 
 from one of the cottages, and went out to 
 sea. 
 
 August i6. Among its other drawbacks, 
 Barnegat counts the "mud sinks" to be found 
 here and there, free from the sand which 
 qualifies most of the bottom. They are spots 
 of soft clay, black, tenacious, fathomless, 
 and he who once sank in them would rise no 
 more. 
 
 Salvage — jettison, and the like, are words 
 almost as unfamiliar to the average lands- 
 man of today as fief and deodand. But on 
 the coast they are still living terms. Any- 
 thing cast upon the beach, or tossing in the 
 surf, is the property of the first finder, as 
 against all but the original owner. Should 
 the desired article be too heavy for imme- 
 diate removal, he registers his claim, so to 
 speak, by placing the object in question — 
 usually lumber of fair quality — above high 
 water mark, and sticking a splinter beside it, 
 occasionally adding a rag of some color, as 
 may be convenient. The original owner, as 
 stated above, has still a claim; but he can 
 only make it good by paying one-half the 
 value of the property in question. As only 
 very valuable articles would be worth the 
 cost and trouble involved, he seldom or nev- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK i6i 
 
 er appears. Among the goods thus thrown 
 up I can mention sawed lumber, shingles, 
 railroad ties, rope, coal, (bituminous) log- 
 wood, oars, chairs, wire, bottles, boxes, 
 tools, and fishing rods. The ownership of 
 landed property on the ocean front seems to 
 convey no special right in this respect, how- 
 ever. 
 
 August ij. Sailed down to the bridge, 
 then crossed over, strong south wind abeam, 
 and even with a double reefed sail we heeled 
 and rolled, sending the tip of the boom un- 
 der more than once, whereat our bow would 
 begin to sway off from the wind, and the roll- 
 ers rushing up from the lower bay threaten 
 to swamp us. The skiff, which towed astern 
 went almost bow under once or twice and 
 shipped considerable water. Had she filled, 
 we would probably have had to cut her loose, 
 or fill ourselves. But at length we made 
 Good Luck point, where in a sandy lee, we 
 bailed out the skiff, took another reef, and 
 then came up the bay flying. 
 
 Wind is most easily observed in its effects 
 on water, from the little black flaw rushing 
 for a moment over the glassy pond to the 
 huge billow. But perhaps this can no where 
 be better seen than in a sail-boat running be- 
 fore the breeze. The air, encountering the 
 sail flatly, and unable to slip away, as when 
 the canvas is presented at an angle, partly 
 sends the boat onward, and partly pours 
 away from It on all sides, but especially 
 
1 62 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 downward, where a web of small black wrin- 
 kles may always be seen beneath the boom. 
 Of course, could we have the sail framed in 
 fluid, it would be almost equally surrounded 
 by corrugations — not quite, because of the 
 rake of the mast. When a pennant is at- 
 tached to gaff or forestay, this may some- 
 times be seen failing to indicate the wind's 
 direction with perfect exactness, because of 
 this outrush of air. The same thing is said 
 to prevail on high marine cliffs, where during 
 a gale, the sheep prefer to feed on the very 
 brink of the precipice, as being there in com- 
 parative calm. The gale, meeting the rock, 
 and being only able to escape upward, by its 
 perpendicular thrust for a time conquers the 
 horizontal current, so as to form a windless 
 arch or tunnel or bower, along the cliffs edge. 
 
 August i8. Could Robinson Crusoe live 
 on Ortley beach? Water, not of the best, 
 but drinkable, can be had by digging eight or 
 ten feet. Wood in abundance for house and 
 fuel, some coal, chairs, sofas, mats, oars, li- 
 quors, drugs, oil, paint, brooms, hats, fish, 
 clams, and crabs. Clothing seems to be the 
 only thing lacking. 
 
 The swimming animal retains his usual 
 posture and action, only slightly emphasizing 
 the latter; the swimming man must alter 
 both. That humblest kind of natation, 
 "Dog-paddling", is the only progress by 
 water which at all resembles any progress by 
 land possible to humanity, namely, crawling 
 
A FARMER^S NOTE BOOK 163 
 
 on all fours, which may be one reason why 
 very young children are said to learn most 
 easily. It is difficult for the beginner to real- 
 ize that it is the water that must bear him 
 up, and not his own legs or arms. Fat, a hin- 
 drance to every other kind of exertion, is the 
 swimmer's aid. Almost all the famous 
 swimmers — Webb, Byron, Franklin — have 
 been men inclining to a full habit, while bone 
 and sinew, however abundant, tend to sink 
 one. George Meredith has written more 
 sympathetically and understandingly of this 
 matter than any author I know, though 
 Thomas Hardy, at times, runs him close. 
 One or two chapters in "Lord Orment and 
 his Aminta" might have been dictated by a 
 Triton. Among poets Thomson has devoted 
 most space to the topic, though Shakespeare 
 does it, like everything else, best. 
 
 The swimmer's progress is an unceasing 
 union of faith and works. He must believe 
 that the water will sustain him, must cast 
 himself upon it with absolute abandon. With- 
 out this, his own efforts, however vigorous 
 and prolonged, are of no avail. 
 
 Plunging about, and "attempting to kneel 
 upon the surface of the water", as some one 
 puts it, are worse than useless. This trust 
 must be cultivated until it becomes second 
 nature. The deeper he sinks in the water, as 
 long as he looks on the sun and draws 
 breath, the more the water buoys him up; the 
 higher he rises from the water the sooner he 
 sinks in exhaustion. But with this goes the 
 
1 64 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 need for effort. Though he should float on 
 the waters for hours together, it would ad- 
 vance him nothing. He must avail himself 
 of a manner of progress he has never used as 
 man, humbly taking the child and the animal 
 as exemplars, abandoning the erect posture 
 and the sounding tread, until at last, well 
 nigh one with the element he moves in, sway- 
 ing like its currents and striking like its 
 waves, he reaches the desired haven. 
 
 August ig. Every scrap of animal matter 
 cast upon the beach is soon devoured by sand- 
 fleas. They are fiercely carnivorous, and 
 though shunning anything that stirs, if one 
 lays a finger among them, refraining from 
 movement they will fasten upon it in two or 
 three minutes. And they in turn are eaten by 
 the snipes. 
 
 Many are the books whose success con- 
 sisted in hitting something else from that 
 aimed at. Shenstone's "Schoolmistress" was 
 written as a parody of Spenser, the ''Com- 
 pleat Angler" is utterly out of date as re- 
 spects the procuring of fish, Rabelais's alle- 
 gory is, to most readers, wholly incompre- 
 hensible. "Don Quixote" went much further 
 than laughing Spain's chivalry away, "Little 
 Women" took Bunyan for its precedent. 
 These are all cases where a miss was better 
 than a mile, where the arrow made its own 
 target, where the too fortunate emissary be- 
 came, merely by the fact of his success, the 
 superior of the master. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 165 
 
 Fish-hawks are of frequent occurrence at 
 Ortley, sometimes wheehng and floating high 
 in air, less often flying so close to the water 
 that the reflected image may be seen follow- 
 ing just beneath from a long distance off. 
 Unlike the gulls, who skim along and snatch 
 up their prey from the surface ; the hawk, af- 
 ter a poise of a few moments, folds his wings 
 and plunges straight down, sometimes going 
 entirely out of sight, generally emerging 
 with a strugghng fish. Sometimes the efforts 
 of the quarry are too much for his captor, 
 who is obhged to let him fall again; but gen- 
 erally he is borne away. On one occasion I 
 saw the hawk, just as he had struck a fish, 
 foiled by a wave, which broke directly upon 
 him, and obliged him to drop everything to 
 escape. 
 
 August 20. S. The phosphorescence seen 
 in the water and sand after dark is undoubt- 
 edly due to fragments of dead jelly-fish. One 
 hardly ever sees them alive here, but I re- 
 member rowing near Prout's Neck, Maine, 
 one afternoon when they thronged the water 
 like great inverted glass bowls — yellow, 
 blue, pink, — scarcely two alike in color or 
 size. 
 
 Quicksands have also done their part In 
 literature, being of their nature highly meta- 
 phorical. The end of Ravenswood, and that 
 of Carver, in Lorna Doone, will at once oc- 
 cur to everyone. The composition of these 
 mires seems somewhat in doubt. Mud alone 
 
1 66 A FARMER^S NOTE BOOK 
 
 will not do it, nor yet sand. The "sinks" re- 
 ferred to above are spots of peat like the rest 
 of the bay bottom, only thinner. There may 
 be a slight admixture of clay in them, or they 
 may be spots where there would be springs 
 of fresh water if the bay was dried. The 
 quick sands are of a different make-up. The 
 spring theory will not avail for them, as the 
 sand surrounding an upland spring is some- 
 times perfectly hard. It is possible that the 
 sand at such places may be differently shaped 
 from the bulk of it, and instead of being 
 sharp and angular, tending to bind, like the 
 broken stone in a macadam road, it is oval 
 or globular in shape, sliding down at a touch, 
 like eggs or balls piled together. When to 
 this is added the slip of water, slowly rising 
 or as slowly drawing away, perhaps a quick- 
 sand might be the result. 
 
 August 21. There is most of the summer 
 time, a current of air from sea to land, which 
 is deflected upward as it leaves the coast. 
 The land breezes form a quoin, as it were, of 
 great depth inshore, but coming to a thin 
 edge on the beach. Usually about lo A. M., 
 the sea wind springs up, and the quoin's 
 point is crumbled, eaten into, and broken 
 away, as the salt air pushes a mile or two in- 
 land. Occasionally it goes further still until 
 the east wind is felt on our farm. Again, the 
 land breeze has the better and the quoin is 
 pushed well out to sea, cutting the tops off 
 the breakers as they roll in. I have sailed 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 167 
 
 on the bay in light and baffling eastern puffs 
 when, two miles further in, I could see the 
 sails dashing to and fro with a strong north- 
 wester. 
 
 August 22. High wind, preventing sail- 
 ing, so rowed about the coves and broads. 
 As I came down one creek I saw a small dark 
 object ahead, which I presently discovered to 
 be a wild duckling, black as coal, and not 
 larger than a new hatched chicken. The lit- 
 tle soot-ball swam across the channel without 
 apparent fear, though I was within a few 
 feet of it, scrambled up the muddy bank like 
 a child climbing its piazza steps, and disap- 
 peared among the sedge. 
 
 Forty years ago, "Salt Water Day" was, 
 to the Jerseyman, one of those unwritten fes- 
 tivals which grow up by accretion, something 
 resembling May Day in old England. The 
 second Saturday in August was the date of 
 this ceremony, when even a late crop of oats 
 would be housed, the corn laid by, and fall 
 work not yet begun. Then would every 
 farmer within twenty miles of the shore 
 hitch up his carryall, and start with his fam- 
 ily for the Atlantic. Progress was slow over 
 the sandy ways which knew not Macadam, 
 and it was generally noon before the far-off 
 sparkling brine flashed on their vision. Then 
 followed the noon meal, then interchange of 
 civilities with neighbors, and then the great 
 event of the day — the Bath. Arrayed in old 
 trousers, or faded wrappers, all underwent 
 
i68 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 what was probably, for many of the adults, 
 the sole complete lavation of the year, the 
 carryall serving as a bathing box for each in 
 succession. This rite performed, they toiled 
 homeward, to cold hearths and late milkings. 
 But now those good old simple days have de- 
 parted, bathing suits and weekly trips have 
 come in, and though "Salt Water Day" sur- 
 vives as a name, it is given to steamboat ex- 
 cursions. 
 
 August 2j. Mended sail. It is not well 
 done, but as I said later to those who shud- 
 dered at the sight, "The next time you have 
 anything to mend, tack it by one edge to a 
 post, and then see how neatly you can mend 
 it while it slats and flutters in a stiff breeze". 
 
 A harrow makes an excellent stop-gap in 
 hedge or fence, a bayonet fastened over a 
 half-bushel measure does very well for shell- 
 ing corn; a leaky boat may be bailed with 
 one's shoe; a bunch of seaweed furnished a 
 fair sponge, a boat past recovery is the sea- 
 side flower-bed. A small nail will take the 
 place of a button; carpets can be laid by 
 stamping in the tacks, a wheel tire may be 
 fastened on with a hair-pin. A tight wisp of 
 straw shoes a horse for an hour, twisted 
 newspapers form a very good rope, a tall hat 
 and handkerchief make a good life preserv- 
 er, harness may be mended with hairs from 
 the horse's tail. 
 
 Fugitives hidden in a dung-hill have 
 breathed through a tube of quills, water 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 169 
 
 enough to preserve life has been got from 
 green maple sticks with one end in the lire. 
 Dutch cheeses have served for cannon-balls, 
 an egg-shell was the old Celtic measure for a 
 dram of spirits. Ropes of hay wound round 
 the legs are the Russian stockings, horses' 
 skulls formed the Tartar's chairs, a ring, cut 
 and barbed, will make a fish-hook. A foot 
 of "T" rail does as an anvil, garden can be 
 dug with a broadaxe, I have seen a boat 
 steered with a spade. 
 
 August 24. Sailed to Island Heights this 
 morning, getting more and more wind as we 
 worked over. Came back rushing sending a 
 great water furrow out on either side, and 
 the skiff repeating same astern. In afternoon 
 tried again, but the breeze was so strong that 
 in beating down the channel the anchor was 
 nearly lost overboard, only hanging to the 
 wale-streak by one fluke. Had it gone over 
 we had been tipped to our undoing. 
 
 If Dante has drawn any similes from the 
 sea-cost for his Commedia, with the excep- 
 tion of likening the roar of the dark tornado 
 which carries and torments the impure souls 
 to the stormy ocean's sound, they have es- 
 caped my memory. But on the Maine coast, 
 between Old Orchard Beach and the Saco 
 River, most people know, or have heard of 
 the excellence of the aforesaid beach — hard, 
 level, clean and flat as a floor. But traveling 
 a little further south and crossing a little val- 
 ely and stream by a trestle, one comes on 
 
I70 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 quite a different scene. An uneven flat, full 
 of puddles, sticky soil, half sand, half clay, 
 and covered with lumps of the latter mate- 
 rial, like the heads of slain giants, made up 
 what might have seemed to him a suitable 
 setting for the punishment of wicked gladia- 
 tors. The sun went down reddening the 
 pools, the clay lumps took on a still greater 
 semblance of humanity, the blind and dev- 
 ious path became invisible, and the trestle 
 stood up like a gibbet. 
 
 August 2§. Easterly storm all day. Went 
 down to the Merlin and screwed on her name 
 in brass letters. Knowing if I dropped one 
 in the cove I should never see it more, I tied 
 each letter to the horse (bar on which the 
 sheet-block sides) with a bit of string, then 
 put in one screw, then untied it and set the 
 other screws. Then towed her to a better 
 berth with skiff, at the rate of about one 
 yard per minute, then crowded into the fore- 
 peak between mast and stem, and had a nap. 
 The mingled odor of the tar, salt, and mud 
 was no bad sleeping potion, while the rain 
 pelted on the deck, and the boat swung and 
 swayed at her mooring. 
 
 Among the violent contrasts In which Eng- 
 land, perhaps beyond any other civilized 
 land, abounds, and the consequent opportuni- 
 ties offered to authors, are her tides. How 
 numerous are the fictitious or historical indi- 
 viduals or parties In Great Britain's litera- 
 ture cut off by a high tide ! King John at the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 171 
 
 Wash, the Scottish martyrs in the Solway, 
 Sir Arthur and his daughter in the "Anti- 
 quary", Mary in the Sands O'Dee, and many 
 others it were tedious to name. What have 
 we to set against this? True, the Bay of Fun- 
 dy has the highest tides in the world, and 
 Mrs. Spofford has got one heroic rescue out 
 of them. But who that one cares about ever 
 lived at the Bay of Fundy? True, also, that 
 along the New England coast, the tides are 
 almost as high as in Great Britain, twelve to 
 eighteen feet, but the rocks never seem to be 
 of a kind to entrap any one. And from 
 Connecticut to Florida the average rise is 
 only about four feet, a difference which can 
 result in nothing worse than contemptible 
 wet feet. 
 
 August 26. Every bit of clothing I put on 
 this morning from shirt to shoes, was wet. 
 This partly because the colony was agitated 
 last night by a report that a vessel was driv- 
 ing on shore. And a light was to be seen 
 bobbing up and down, apparently on the 
 verge of the breakers. Some said they saw 
 rockets, but almost any one can do this if 
 caught in the eye by a rain-drop while gazing 
 at a light. I walked a mile up shore to in- 
 vestigate, and other the like exploits were 
 performed by various neighbors. Next day 
 it appeared that a recent law required a lan- 
 tern to be hung in each fish-pound on dark 
 nights. 
 
 The combined brightness and plasticity of 
 
172 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 the Greek mind shows forth in nothing more 
 than in the fact that Socrates was able to per- 
 suade them by argument. No doubt he had 
 great dialectic powers, but no man has ever 
 been able to do it since, nor, probably, could 
 he have done it with any other people. The 
 Greeks made better judges than advocates, 
 and consequently took pleasure in listening 
 to an able barrister. The Romans were, just 
 before they were generous — in other words, 
 it was only when their national existence was 
 nearly gone that they had recourse to mag- 
 nanimity, as witness their sole recorded in- 
 stance of ethnic generosity, their behavior 
 to Varro after Cannae, and their ideal was 
 a dictator, one or many-headed. The Celts 
 are gregarious, and have shown the highest 
 loyalty to rulers who neither belonged to 
 their race or did anything for them. The 
 Scotch are unconvincible as machines, and 
 their idol is Burns, who never tried to prove 
 anything at all. The inhabitants of the Great 
 Republic have no racial traits, being a mix- 
 ture of all nations; consequently, their ideal 
 government is rule by an affrighted majority, 
 and their greatest pleasure consists in gazing 
 on that composite photograph of the United 
 States, T. R. 
 
 August 2y. S. Walked down beach to the 
 south. The shore is strewn with bamboos 
 large and small, which it were pleasant to 
 imagine wafted from the coast of Ind., but 
 I much fear they are but fishing poles, cast 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 173 
 
 away by parties on the Banks. 
 
 Idiots have a family likeness. As every 
 one knows, the word at first signified one 
 who held no public office; a strictly private 
 individual. Descending in meaning, as most 
 words do, it came to represent one who could 
 not hold office, and finally, one who could do 
 nothing like others. The vacant stare, the 
 open mouth, the dancing gait, are common to 
 them all. Such an one I can remember, who 
 for many years went to and fro in a town 
 with which I am familiar. His predecessor 
 in office was a loathsome object to contem- 
 plate, macrolingual and orifluent, but the 
 present incumbent has little repulsive about 
 him. I indicated him to several friends at 
 different times, as follows : — 
 
 Myself — "That is the village idiot." 
 
 Miss A. — "Poor creature, he looks it." 
 
 Myself — "That is the village", etc. 
 
 Mr. B. — "Just the kind of job I'd like to 
 have." 
 
 Myself — "That is the village", etc. 
 
 Miss C. — "It is well for the town that has 
 only one." 
 
 Myself — "That is the village", etc. 
 
 Mr. D.— "Any relation?" 
 
 How many other occasions will arise when 
 this person may be the cause of wit in others 
 remains to be seen; the above are to date. 
 
 August 28. In evening there was a very 
 high tide, and the surf was high. The break- 
 ers rushed over the crest of the beach, usual 
 
174 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 high water mark, and formed a pool beyond 
 while now and then a little wave from this 
 would lap the sea wall. Dwellers at the ocean 
 edge are like the Indian princes with their 
 pet tigers, pleased when they roared and 
 showed their teeth, but fleeing in terror if 
 they showed signs of breaking their bars. By 
 looking over the rail of a porch, or other 
 long straight object at the ocean's horizon, 
 one may perceive the rotundity of the world. 
 It rises with a convexity of about three inches 
 in ten feet. 
 
 August 2g. Children floating in the surf 
 in bait car. The little waves at low tide curl 
 over and scrape up a small bar of pebbles, 
 about two paces in. Here are also found 
 the only stones of these parts, mis-shapen 
 lumps of pumice, or something resembling 
 it, and in contour most like the worn down 
 knuckle bones of some large animal. 
 
 Shakespeare's "Seven Ages" as detailed 
 by Jaques, are generally supposed not to be 
 for an age, but for all time. And this is 
 probably true of six of them. The infant, 
 the lover, the soldier, the justice, the lean 
 and slippered pantaloon and the mere obliv- 
 ious, still mewl, sigh, quarrel, saw, pant, and 
 forget, as they did four hundred years ago; 
 but he of the satchel and the shining face 
 no longer creeps to school? On the contrary, 
 he races thither, having been, to that end, 
 helped first to breakfast, and very positive 
 with his family about the clock. The road to 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 175 
 
 learning has lost all of its terror, and most 
 of its tedium. No more are "tway birchen 
 twigs" seen in the corner, or the ferule lying 
 on the desk, or the tawse hanging over the 
 chair back. They have followed the born- 
 book and the slate to the limbo of things for- 
 gotten, having probably been used to kindle 
 the last fire in the last open stove. Even the 
 sports, once considered mere accessories, and 
 asides, only fit to furnish metaphors for the 
 musing poet, have now been brought well 
 to the front, and in conversation and adver- 
 tisement seem to be considered of quite equal 
 importance with study. So far has this gone 
 that when the child knows not how to play, a 
 depth of stupidity Gray never imagined, an 
 instructor is detailed to that special end. 
 
 The first girls' school of which we have 
 any authentic and circumstantial account — 
 for the slight hints and references dropped 
 by Mariana, Bianca, and Helena hardly de- 
 serve attention — would seem to be that kept 
 at Taunton about 1680 by Miss Susan Blake, 
 daughter of the great admiral. Apparently 
 she might have thriven long, had she not 
 mixed politics 'with learning. But when 
 she allowed, or induced, or compelled her 
 pupils to present Monmouth, soon after his 
 landing, with a copy of the Scriptures, she 
 gained, it is true, a small niche in history, 
 but also life imprisonment for herself, and 
 heavy fines for all her scholars. 
 
 August 50. A young porpoise, about two 
 
176 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 feet long, was cast upon the beach last night. 
 Its horizontal tail and crescent-shaped spira- 
 cle showed it was the whale's small cousin. 
 It was a female, about two feet long, black 
 above, white below; and they said when cast 
 up it squeaked like a small pig. The moth- 
 er porpoise (of whom we saw three or four 
 yesterday) grunts like a hog. 
 
 How was it possible for a musical instru- 
 ment to be of straw, and oat straw at that? 
 Willow, elder, reeds, and the like, might 
 readily lend themselves to piping and fluting, 
 but one cannot conceive of the thin, short, 
 brittle, and easily split oaten straw bearing 
 a blast, or producing a sound. Even to Mil- 
 ton's time, the art seems to have endured; 
 and though he speaks of the result with much 
 contempt, he does not deny its existence. It 
 might have been supposed that the enthu- 
 siasm of the audience supplied all that was 
 wanting In the skill of the performer, or the 
 excellence of the instrument; but when we 
 consider the high quality of the speeches and 
 sculpture that have come down to us from 
 classic days. It may reasonably be imagined 
 that all their artistic achievement was on a 
 high level, even the simplest, however It may 
 have degenerated by Milton's time. 
 
 August 5/. Shoal of blue-fish, at first far 
 out, a spot of sharper ripples than usual, 
 overflown by gulls. They rapidly approached 
 the shore and for a moment leaped and tum- 
 bled In the wash of the surf, where the water 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 177 
 
 was not over two feet deep. Many rushed 
 for lines and squids, but the fish were off be- 
 fore their would-be captors got busy. 
 
 It seems probable that the day will come 
 when our nutriment will be derived from 
 lozenges minted out of air. One of 
 those admirable men whose life is spent in 
 discovering the things they had declared 
 could not exist will invent some instrument 
 on the bullet-mould order by a dexterous 
 snap of which a lozenge may be pinched out 
 of the atmosphere, containing all necessary 
 ailment, and of flavor to suit any taste. They 
 could be carried with great convenience in 
 the vest-pocket — two for breakfast, four for 
 dinner, three for supper, and there you are. 
 The author of "Peter Wilkins" — perhaps 
 the best of many imitations of "Robinson 
 Crusoe" — represents his nocturnal race; 
 who alternately flew and swam with whale 
 bone growths, called graundees, and lived in 
 caves like bats, as lighting up their caverns 
 with an apparatus singularly resembling the 
 electric light of the present time. The wiring, 
 the nature of the brightness afforded, and, 
 above all, the size and shape of the bulbs 
 containing the light, are described with an 
 exactness truly wonderful when we reflect 
 that the book was written a hundred years 
 before Edison was born, when the electrical 
 machine was not even a toy. 
 
 Sept'cmher i. Ten years ago today was the 
 earthquake. Lying in bed in the morning, I 
 
178 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 was awakened by the clock striking 6 a. m. 
 and almost at the instant I felt the house 
 waggle to and fro, like a snapper on a whip 
 when one shakes it. I knew as by instinct 
 what it was and was aware of slight nausea. 
 There was no accompanying sound that I can 
 remember, nor did anything fall. 
 
 Luxury came long before comfort, adorn- 
 ment before use. Beautiful jewels, and 
 splendid weapons, were worn by persons 
 whose food and dwellings were of the coars- 
 est and rudest. A shirt once worn by Charles 
 I. is said to be of linen so coarse that no la- 
 borer would put up with it now, though the 
 embroidery upon it is beautiful. The medi- 
 aevals could make glorious stained glass 
 windows, but not roofs and walls that would 
 keep out wind and weather. The cups and 
 dishes of Palissy frequently contained sour 
 and unwholesome bread and beer. The to- 
 mato is one of our most common, and per- 
 haps one of our most useful, vegetables; 
 grown by the acre, eaten fresh and canned, in 
 millions. Yet not so many years ago it was 
 only grown in gardens as an ornamental 
 shrub, for the sake of its bright red fruit, 
 then called love-apples, and deemed deleter- 
 ious, if not poisonous, while a lady I can re- 
 member has related that in her youth she 
 once went to a party with a couple of said 
 love apples in her hair, by way of adornment. 
 
 September 2. Though we had one ex- 
 tremely hot spell, and much squally, rainy 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 179 
 
 weather since, there has been very little thun- 
 der or lightning this summer. Some years ago 
 a man I knewwas killed bylightning between 
 the stilts of his plough. He had delayed 
 leaving the field until the storm broke, and 
 was just entering the barn-yard, when the 
 bolt struck his horse, singeing the animal's 
 skin and scorching the harness, ran along the 
 plow beam and up the handles, and struck 
 him just below the breast bone, so that he 
 fell dead on the spot. Mr. N. also lost two 
 horses about 1890, the lightning striking the 
 grating of their windows, passing along the 
 iron edging of the mangers, and up the hal- 
 ter chains into their bodies. 
 
 September j. S. Peacocks are but little 
 kept in this neighborhood, though I remem- 
 ber one in Penn's place who used to sit on a 
 high limb at the gate and scream when wag- 
 ons passed under. Once a peahen strayed 
 over to our place, and encountered a com- 
 mon hen with chicks. This last, anxious for 
 her brood, immediately lost temper and self- 
 control, and retreated slowly before the mag- 
 lificent and gigantic stranger, scolding, fum- 
 ing and kicking up the dust. Madame Pavo, 
 meanwhile, a trespasser, and by so much in 
 the wrong, advanced delicately, letting fall 
 an occasional remark on the scenery, and ut- 
 terly ignoring in her dignified grace Dame 
 Gallin's vulgar outcries. 
 
 September ^, Returning from Ortley, 
 
i8o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 found the fall planting well forward, and 
 considerable brush cutting on the old field 
 done. The corn Is now In full tassel and 
 silk, sending forth a savory odor like warm 
 bread. One evening about this time of year, 
 calm, warm and moist, when coming through 
 an unfamiliar region, I could distinguish the 
 crops on many of the fields by the smell — 
 corn, potatoes digging, buckwheat, second 
 crop hay, cabbages, turnips. 
 
 Generosity is undignified. I do not refer 
 to lavlshness, which Is quite a different thing. 
 The scattering of small coins among the pop- 
 ulace hath ever been held regal and magnifi- 
 cent; but the bestowing of large gifts on in- 
 dividuals Is a thing hard to handle grace- 
 fully. Even Aurora made a mess of It with 
 TIthonus. Rain Is lavish; pumps and spouts 
 generous. But rain has supplied much poetic 
 imagery; whereas pumps, gargoyles, sluices, 
 and the whole tribe of spouts generally are 
 ludicrous and grotesque, until they become 
 large enough to be terrific. But this Is best 
 shown In the vegetable kingdom, where the 
 fruit should never be conspicuous above the 
 plant that bears it. The acorn, the chestnut, 
 the strawberry, the grape, have high place In 
 literature and art, because, however numer- 
 ous, they are Individually so much smaller 
 than the tree or vine on which they hang. 
 The fig-tree, diverging somewhat from the 
 above, holds a middle ground; its leaf comes 
 forward early and prominently, its fruit is 
 synonymous with a trifle. But the generous 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK i8i 
 
 plants or herbs, the pumpkin, squash, and 
 cabbage, being few in number, but of great 
 size, while the vine, a stem which bears them, 
 is practically negligible, have this many a 
 year been held the butts and clowns of na- 
 ture. 
 
 September 5. Cut weeds and wild car- 
 rots. Heavy showers, the last few days have 
 brought these last up wonderfully. The corn 
 is sending out its brace roots, like fingers and 
 thumbs pushed through frail gloves, to clutch 
 at the earth, and guy up the stalk. Were it 
 not for this, it could never bear up its heavy 
 burden of maize against the autumn winds 
 and rains, but would fall prostrate with its 
 load. 
 
 "The pasture's getting short!" is the cry 
 often heard about this time of year. "We 
 must fence in another". When the cows be- 
 gin to stretch their necks through the fences, 
 and go down on their knees to get their noses 
 under the bottom rail, one knows a change 
 must be made. Supposing that the usual ro- 
 tation is followed — corn, oats (or potatoes) 
 wheat, hay, pasture — it follows that the hay 
 field, now coming up to Fall feed, will gen- 
 erally furnish a good bite in August. But 
 this is usually next to the cornfield, whose 
 green and juicy stalks offer a greater tempta- 
 tion than any grass. Fences are poor in mid- 
 summer, posts that seemed strong in spring 
 wabble and crack, rails are loose and short 
 (a rail seems to lose about an inch in length 
 
1 82 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 each year, and perhaps it does) the ground 
 is hard to dig, and wires stretched now may 
 snap when frost comes. Even after all these 
 hindrances have been surmounted, and the 
 cows turned in, they do not evince the grati- 
 tude one would like to see. Having filled 
 themselves well for a day or two, they find 
 the sharp stubble beneath the rowen prickly 
 to the nose, long for accustomed ways, and, 
 should chance serve, may be seen trying to 
 get back to the old field. 
 
 September 6. Peaches now at their best 
 but many of them spoiled by cracking, owing 
 to the wet weather. It was about this time 
 more than twenty years ago, that I, being in 
 the field a quarter of a mile off, saw a carpen- 
 ter who was repairing the house gather a 
 hatful of peaches from one of the trees in 
 the garden, and hide them in a hole under 
 the shed. When I came up I made no re- 
 mark, but gathered up his booty and took it 
 indoors. My eyes were good then. 
 
 In the gradual merging of farm into vil- 
 lage, and village into town, the domesticated 
 animals gradually drop away. First goes 
 the cow. As her pasture becomes more scan- 
 ty and difficult to reach, as her owners grad- 
 ually lose time and taste for milking, the sta- 
 ble and crib are turned to other uses, and the 
 pail rusts unheeded. The pig follows next. 
 Living in narrow quarters, and on the rem- 
 nants of our own food, he can hold his own 
 somewhat longer. But the time comes 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 183 
 
 when his noise and filth shock sensitive ears 
 and nostrils beyond endurance, when laws of 
 sanitation are drawn against him, and he also 
 falls into the background. The goat is the 
 last to go, at least if the soil is rough and 
 rocky, as was upper New York, and as is the 
 town whereof I write. On granite ledges 
 and shaly cliffs, he can obtain sustenance 
 where another beast would starve. On a 
 precipice some sixty feet high, thickly grown 
 with ivy and ailanthus, with grass and weeds 
 on every little niche, I once saw three goats 
 and four kids appear, who had been driven 
 from the field at the top by a dog. Like a 
 living cascade they poured down the cliff, 
 fastening their hoofs in every crevice, spring- 
 ing away quicker than the loose rock could 
 slip from under them, and reaching the bot- 
 tom almost as soon as their pursuer could 
 have fallen. 
 
 September 7. Dug potatoes. One out of 
 three is cut or pierced by hoe or fork. As the 
 tubers are generally softer than the earth, 
 and always softer than the stones, the dig- 
 ging tools glance from these last and find the 
 potato the line of least resistance. Some one 
 has said that the legs of the peasant in Mil- 
 let's "Angelus" look like sticks; and some 
 one else has replied that after you have been 
 digging potatoes all day your legs do look — 
 and feel — like sticks. 
 
 In some ways labor once considered neces- 
 sary is lessened, in others multiplied and in- 
 
1 84 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 creased. It used to be thought essential, or 
 at any rate desirable, in the old monkish 
 days, when the good brethren would set out 
 an orchard, first to lay a pavement under it 
 at a depth of four feet. As any one can see, 
 this would involve huge toil; while the ad- 
 vantage would come from the thorough dig- 
 ging and fining of the earth necessitated, not 
 from the pavement. Coming to more mod- 
 ern times, an asparagus bed was wont to be 
 prepared for with almost as much ceremony 
 as an expected infant. The ground was to 
 be "trenched", that is, dug one spade deep, 
 wheeled away, then the lower soil, thus ex- 
 posed, dug another spade deep, plenteously 
 enriched, and the upper earth put back. Now 
 all thought necessary is to run deep furrows, 
 set the roots in them, and gradually fill in 
 earth from each side during the first year. 
 Peas, again, used to be provided with brush 
 or strings to climb upon, now are allowed to 
 stand If they can, or fall if they will, and 
 seem very little the worse, either as respects 
 quantity or quality. 
 
 The forehanded farmer, or rather truck- 
 er, for it is generally done by those who have 
 more energy than land, frequently grows two 
 crops on the same land, either simultaneous- 
 ly or successively. An Instance of the former 
 is planting corn and beans together — whence 
 arose the fable of the former growing so 
 fast that it pulled up the latter — corn and 
 pumpkins, which does better, or corn and 
 turnips, which only succeeds In a wet season. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 185 
 
 When strawberries were first cultivated for 
 market, a general plan was to plant sweet 
 corn between the rows, and next year the 
 lines of corn-buts served as guides to pick by, 
 when the vines had run together. Beans are 
 sometimes planted between potatoes, also 
 lettuce, also cucumbers. The disadvantage 
 of all these arrangements is that much care is 
 required in digging the potatoes not to tread 
 on the young succeeding crop. Spinach may 
 be sown in fall and cut in early spring, 
 ground plowed and planted to potatoes, and 
 these followed by celery, so as to get three 
 crops within the year. It sometimes happens 
 that in close proximity and violent contrast 
 to a field under this intensive culture may be 
 seen another bearing its second crop of an- 
 nual weeds. 
 
 September 8. The pilferers of apples 
 now are much in evidence, from the stroller 
 who picks up one or two as he passes to the 
 gang who come with bags and a business like 
 air. Finding one of these last bands at work, 
 I pursued them on horseback. They reached 
 the fence just a little ahead, but as they 
 climbed it quickly, while I had to let down 
 tke bars, they were half across the next field 
 by the time I had mounted again. The pro- 
 cess was renewed again and yet again, be- 
 fore we reached a road. Along this I once 
 more gave chase, and had nearly overtaken 
 the fugitives, when they broke from the 
 wood road into another field, through which 
 
1 86 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 I let them go with what remained of their 
 plunder, reflecting that I had given them a 
 good run. 
 
 Fighting a forest fire is the hardest work 
 one can be engaged in — for in a real battle 
 excitement sustains, and victory inspires. But 
 even the conquerors lose when contending 
 with fire, and the enemy can only be headed 
 off and checked, never slain. One's coat is 
 perhaps the handiest weapon, but it is un- 
 commonly hard on the coat. A horse blank- 
 et rolled and soaked is more durable, but re- 
 quires both hands. A young cedar tree does 
 very well, but soon wears out. A shovel will 
 serve, if the fire is chiefly in grass, but will 
 not fit round trees or among bushes, and soon 
 jars the hands. With each or any of 
 these tools you beat and batter down the ad- 
 vancing line of flame, looking for thin spots, 
 now and then obliged to retreat from a fierc- 
 er blast than common, choking with smoke, 
 eyes watering and hair frizzling. Thoreau 
 has recorded how he once started a forest 
 fire which did considerable damage, but after 
 a few hour's remorse, succeeded in throwing 
 the matter off his mind with facility remark- 
 able in a man so severe on other's faults. 
 Once, retreating from fire into a damp hol- 
 low, I found, deep in sphagnum moss, ice re- 
 maining in June. 
 
 September g. Being over on Farfield, and 
 an automobile passing every few minutes, I 
 took occasion to time them. The frontage 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 187 
 
 of the field Is about 600 feet, the legal rate 
 of speed 20 miles per hour, which would give 
 20 seconds as the time for passing this space. 
 About half of those I timed kept to or below 
 this speed, several got down to 15 seconds, 
 and one or two to 10^ — nearly forty miles per 
 hour. 
 
 Liberty is dear to all animals, as well as to 
 man; most naturally, seeing that they had it 
 first and kept it longest. As respects our do- 
 mesticated stock, one of the advantages of 
 breeding them on the farm is that they never 
 want to go far from the place where they 
 were born; whereas an animal purchased 
 elsewhere is liable for years to make for 
 parts unknown. Perhaps a pig forgets his 
 birthplace soonest; one getting loose as soon 
 as brought in has been known, after a long 
 chase, to return to the spot where he was tak- 
 en from the wagon. A runaway cow is much 
 more easily tracked than a vagrant horse, 
 but is also much more likely to take to the 
 woods, where it is surprising how well her 
 coat harmonizes with the leaves. A fowl can 
 generally be run down, unless It Is capable of 
 taking long flights across obstacles, but when 
 weary will hide with great subtlety. A pig 
 will double, sheep so seldom run singly that 
 their conduct Is diflicult to foretell. A run- 
 away horse, unless wild with fright, loves a 
 dry and smooth path. I recollect one, who In 
 his career, turned out for every puddle, and 
 another who took a course down a newly set 
 row of strawberries, because the ground 
 
1 88 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 there was nicely raked, while on each side it 
 was rough and lumpy. 
 
 September lO. S. Baseball is now played 
 on many fields about town, where the after- 
 math has been cut, so as to leave clean 
 ground. It is illegal on Sunday, but is mostly 
 winked at, unless the players are peculiarly 
 turbulent, or the owner objects. On one oc- 
 casion when a game was started in a field ad- 
 joining ours I went to a gap where I was in 
 full view, took out paper and pencil and be- 
 gan to write. The game soon languished, 
 and a committee came over to ask what I was 
 writing. But on this point I would give 
 them no satisfaction. They tossed the ball 
 aimlessly a while, then began to steal away 
 by twoes and threes, and in half an hour the 
 field was empty. 
 
 September ii. Rose early, rode before 
 breakfast. The automobile seldom appears 
 at this hour, and farmers and icemen are 
 generally the only ones encountered. Rab- 
 bits are often to be seen, but they seem to 
 realize that a horse could not hurt them if 
 he tried. 
 
 Animals seem to have a better idea of bal- 
 ance and poise than man, which is surprising 
 when one considers how little help their eyes 
 give them. A man may strike a blow, or de- 
 liver a kick at a football with great accuracy, 
 but he always can see what he is about. Let 
 him kick or strike backward, and he makes 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 189 
 
 sad work of it. But even a young calf can 
 send in a coup de pied with extraordinary 
 directness, while it is a pleasure to see even 
 the clumsy cow take a leap over a bar or two 
 into her pasture, and observe with what neat- 
 ness her hoofs will just, and only just, clear 
 the timber. In fact, the cow's traditional 
 awkwardness chiefly appears when she is 
 hampered by the handiwork of man. She 
 will put her nose into a stanchion and then 
 pretend she cannot withdraw it; she will get 
 her head through a fence, work along to the 
 other end of the panel, and affect to be hope- 
 lessly imprisoned, so that the rail must be 
 pulled out to release her. But when untram- 
 meled, and moving slowly she shows all the 
 grace that can be expected of a creature who 
 has to bear in mind four feet, two stomachs, 
 and a pair of horns. 
 
 September 12. The rain crow sounded 
 this morning, with usual results. He is hardly 
 ever mistaken. I do not know whether he or 
 the tree-toad is the surest prophet. Glow- 
 worms are now most numerous, as are fire- 
 flies in June. We have two varieties, one an 
 unmistakable caterpillar, the other a kind of 
 beetle with worm's tail, which I take to be 
 the preliminary stage of the fire-fly. 
 
 An ancient relation of mine was wont to 
 observe about August first each year, ''After 
 all, the summer does not last long". And it 
 is true. Few are the days when no hour of 
 the twenty-four is chilly, and you can lie on 
 
190 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 the ground without damp or stain; when the 
 east wind is grateful, and life fills the air as 
 the motes fill the sunbeam. When water is 
 grateful to ear and eye, to skin and throat; 
 when snow and ice are within the arctic cir- 
 cle, and there are berries in Maine. When 
 leaves lap one upon another, and young 
 grasshoppers can yet be found; when the 
 wasps are still enlarging their nests in the ap- 
 ple-tree, and the rain comes in drops like the 
 end of your thumb. With September the 
 horses' coats begin to thicken, and the leaves 
 to thin; the maize yellows, and the fall feed 
 turns green. Poke-berries blacken, and 
 grapes turn blue; corn-silk frizzles and cab- 
 bage leaves dip up the dew. No longer is 
 there possibility of gain or increase; we 
 gather in the harvest we have made, and the 
 utmost we can do is to save the crop. 
 
 A belief in the permanence of things is 
 perhaps necessary to their presentation with 
 verisimilitude. Porte Crayon, a writer for 
 Harper's fifty years ago, presents in his 
 "Virginia Illustrated" a picture of Southern 
 life in ante-bellum days, which is, or at any 
 rate seems, far more truthful than Mrs. 
 Stowe's lurid melodrama. She was much the 
 more gifted and purposeful, but she intended 
 and expected a cataclysm; whereas, for any 
 hint of anticipation on Crayon's part, the 
 war might have been distant a thousand 
 years. His was the true antediluvian spirit. 
 *'A11 things continue as they were" and this 
 enabled him to write of slavery as if it were 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 191 
 
 settled as the sunrlsing. While "Uncle Tom's 
 Cabin" was exaggerated so well in propor- 
 tion, as to harmonize to an outsider, yet even 
 careful reading will show that there is exag- 
 geration, and that only in that way could 
 the immense effect it produced have been 
 achieved. Crayon's little sketch, on the oth- 
 er hand, moves on like one of the processes 
 of nature; a small and retired process, to be 
 sure, like the forming of an ant-hill, but none 
 the less a vital growth, independent of tacks 
 and paint. 
 
 September /j. I know nothing equal to 
 wild carrots for tripping one, especially 
 when damp. If one moves with any rapid- 
 ity, the flat heads lash round one's legs and 
 catch together like hocks. And the stems 
 and roots are too strong to break. 
 
 The depth or distance to which roots will 
 penetrate is much greater than appears to 
 the eye. It has been demonstrated that the 
 rootlets of grass and grain go more than 
 four feet deep, though invisible. Alfalfa 
 hath a strange alacrity in sinking, and will 
 descend fifteen feet. The roots of trees will 
 travel long distances to reach the water in 
 drain pipes, entering at the joints, and com- 
 pletely choking them up. I have taken a 
 mass of apple-tree roots from such a posi- 
 tion, six feet long by about two inches in di- 
 ameter, fibrous, white, and soft, like a boa or 
 comforter. Sometimes a kitchen drain will 
 be completely enveloped by such roots, not 
 
192 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 entering the tile, but clinging closely to it on 
 all sides, as if they were aware of the im- 
 purity of the water, and wished it filtered. 
 An old bone, or more frequently an old shoe, 
 may often be seen pierced and traversed 
 throughout by grass roots, forcing apart the 
 layers of leather, filling the cells which once 
 contained marrow. It is said that the roots 
 of a yew tree have been known, after many 
 years, to fill up, and take the exact shape of 
 a body laid in the grave beneath. 
 
 September 14. Found two Individuals 
 picking up apples under a tree. Repeated 
 shouts from a distance did not move them, 
 and it was not till I got within conversational 
 distance that they slowly started, eating as 
 they left. "You seem uncommonly hard of 
 hearing" said I. "I was only looking for an 
 apple to eat" he replied. "Why should you 
 eat apples which don't belong to you?" I 
 asked. "Why, there's ever so many apples 
 on the ground" said he. "Would you rath- 
 er have 'em rot than somebody should eat 
 'em?" "I observe you didn't take one of 
 the rotten ones to eat," said I. "We go 
 over them now and then, and pick out the 
 good fruit". "Oh, excuse me," he replied 
 with bitter irony, "I did not know I was do- 
 ing you such an injury. But of course your 
 privilege is to complain". He then passed 
 on, apparently thinking the privilege was so 
 great that no pecuniary compensation need 
 be tendered. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 193 
 
 September 75. Parties drove up this 
 morning as we dug potatoes saying old Mr. 
 P. had told them they could have a few 
 ferns. I assented and they passed on. 
 Hours later they emerged from the woods, 
 their wagon so loaded down with rooted 
 clumps of fern and brake that the springs 
 went flat. Gebt nah, Gebt fern. 
 
 The water lily seems to grow best at a 
 depth of about three feet. I have noticed 
 this in a pond, the water of which has been 
 raised several times by increasing the height 
 of the dam. On every such raise, the lilies 
 disappear from their accustomed haunts, 
 and show out further up stream. I can recol- 
 lect one flat which was a fine meadow of red 
 top grass thirty years ago now a mass of 
 lily pads. Both the yellow and white varie- 
 ties flourish here, but the former are of 
 smaller size and rather unpleasant odor. 
 Slightly brackish water does not seem to re- 
 pel them; at least in one of the streams flow- 
 ing into Barnegat Bay, where the tides affect 
 the water level, they are thick and numer- 
 ous. The lotus leaf seems to hold air, as the 
 cabbage leaf water; on severing one freshly 
 plucked many air bubbles can be seen on the 
 lower side. This may or may not have some- 
 thing to do with the assertion that by alter- 
 nately puflling and sucking through the four 
 holes traversing each stem, a well winded 
 person can make the flower's petals open 
 and close. I have never been able to do this 
 myself, but there are those who claim it. 
 
194 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 September i6. The manner of the hus- 
 bands of the (so called) lower classes 
 towards their wives, and the manners of the 
 wives of the (so called) upper classes 
 toward their husbands are very similar. 
 
 The extent to which egotism should enter 
 into narration is a much mooted question. 
 It, of course, varies with the distinction of 
 the egotist. Byron or Rousseau could safe- 
 ly venture on far more of it than a beginner. 
 Perhaps, however, a safe general rule would 
 be not to introduce the perpendicular pro- 
 noun oftener than telegraph poles are set 
 along a road. This is, on the average, about 
 one to every hundred feet, fifty per mile. A 
 mile has five thousand feet. For feet put 
 words. Ten Fs to the thousand is one to 
 the hundred, which is perhaps a safe limit, 
 though often exceeded. Of course, if the 
 Fs are considered as things in themselves 
 beautiful, and not merely designed to carry 
 the line of least resistance clear of obstruc- 
 tions, the case is different. This impression 
 existed, most likely, as respects a certain 
 New England orator lost in the City 
 of Churches, a certain Scotch tailor 
 made over in Germany, and divers others. 
 But there is always danger in setting your 
 posts so thickly that they become a stock- 
 ade, only serving to keep out the reader's 
 attention from whatever better may exist be- 
 yond. 
 
 September ij. S. A doctrine is like a scar, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 195 
 
 indicating the depth to which a heavenly 
 message has penetrated human flesh. 
 
 September 18. In Robin- Hood's barn the 
 trees are the posts, the boughs are the raft- 
 ers, the twigs are the laths, and the leaves 
 are the shingles. 
 
 A thatched roof Is almost never seen in 
 America. The exceptions to this rule are 
 mostly pig-sties and wagon-sheds, and those 
 chiefly along shore. Yet thatch has many 
 advantages. It is cheap, light, warm, and, 
 when well laid, almost impenetrable by rain. 
 Its defects are, perishability (it must be re- 
 newed every five years or so) catching the 
 wind, and, above all, Its inflammable nature. 
 This unfits It for our dry, windy climate. In 
 England it is sometimes soaked down during 
 droughts, to lessen the danger of fire; and 
 Howitt has described the whole population 
 of a village turning out on a gusty afternoon, 
 laying logs, barrows, harrows, and the like 
 upon the roofs, lest they should take flight 
 Into the fields. A thatched roof also furn- 
 ishes an admirable harbor for rats, whence 
 It is almost impossible to dislodge them. In 
 the Shetland and Orkney Islands, the thatch 
 was removed every year or so, and carted 
 away to the fields, where, partly decayed 
 and saturated with peat-smoke. It formed 
 no Inconsiderable part of the available ma- 
 nure. One recommendation of thatch must 
 have been Its freedom from noise. It would 
 take a terrible shower to wake the sleeper 
 
196 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 under a strawen roof; very different from 
 shingles, not to speak of tin. 
 
 September ig. Every year each tree gives 
 a great pulse beat — the rising of the sap, 
 one long breath — the spring of the leaf. Its 
 lungs are all outside, like those of sundry 
 batrachians, its fingers underground, like 
 those of the mole. 
 
 September 20. A recent writer (Fair- 
 less) says that there is nothing on earth like 
 the wheel — it was first found in heaven as 
 Ezekiel saw it. This is perhaps true for 
 if nature abhors a vacuum, she also abhors 
 a circle. No perfect sphere or disk is found 
 on earth. And even the great globe itself, 
 is like the orange or cherry, flattened at the 
 pole. 
 
 Travel has been termed the fool's para- 
 dise — probably because its blend of irre- 
 sponsiblity and patronage peculiarly tickles 
 the palate of the aforesaid. It was not al- 
 ways thus. The old time traveler was like 
 an arrow, going straight toward a mark, 
 generally a religious shrine, Jerusalem or 
 Mecca, and ignoring everything by the way; 
 the modern is a sky-rocket, taking graceful 
 curves, spending as he goes, and indistin- 
 guishable at the end of his trip. He who 
 returned with his life used to be thankful; 
 now, he who does not bring back his money 
 grumbles. Once, starvation was ever at 
 one's elbow; now, the worst to be appre- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 197 
 
 hended is a temporary shortage of cigar- 
 ettes. Upon a time, an assassin or robber 
 lurked in each thicket; now, the true Ameri- 
 can visiting Paris must be warned not to 
 strike a gendarme. Formerly, even a young 
 man was not permitted to travel alone; now, 
 two girls will dance off to Europe as for a 
 waltz round a parlor. Time was when par- 
 tially elderly persons were thought unequal 
 to the fatigue and privation involved; now, 
 those who have reached and passed the 
 grand climacteric, rush off, only desirous to 
 see the world before they can't. 
 
 September 21. The quinces and Keiffer 
 pears are becoming yellow and attractive. 
 One year all the latter were stolen, one of 
 the former had a narrow escape. I went 
 that way at dusk to look for eggs, when I 
 was aware of a man with a basket scram- 
 bling through the fence and coming toward 
 the quince bush. On seeing me he stopped, 
 and walked round and round, looking on the 
 ground as if he had dropped something. 
 Having described several circles, he got 
 back through the fence, again did the circling 
 act, and then walked away. Each of us un- 
 derstood the other perfectly, but neither 
 spoke a word. 
 
 The peddler is a man of uncertain privi- 
 lege; he is licensed, but imperfectly protect- 
 ed thereby. A farmer is assumed to have the 
 right to sell his own produce to private pur- 
 chasers without obtaining such license. This 
 
198 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 seems just, but of course it cuts into the bus- 
 iness of the true peddler, who, in conse- 
 quence, looks upon such farmers with no 
 favoring eye, occasionally threatening young 
 and timorous agriculturists with the law, or 
 sternly demanding if they have no neigh- 
 bor's produce aboard. As this may happen 
 once in a long time without its being made a 
 regular business, it naturally alarms the par- 
 ty questioned, who does not thereafter feel 
 confident of his right even to sell his own 
 stuff, and seeks his customers with bated 
 breath, and a careful eye for the policeman 
 in the distance. This adds drawbacks to a 
 business in itself by no means pleasant, for 
 selling his produce is a farmer's hardest 
 task. I had sooner raise an hundred bushels 
 of corn, than take ten to town and sell them 
 in open market. A grocer had always rath- 
 er bid the farmer "get out and never come 
 back" than reprove his clerk for giving too 
 high a price. 
 
 September 22. Finished digging early po- 
 tatoes. Eighteen bushels from a half acre. 
 A very poor crop as compared to neighbor 
 R. who turns out one hundred and fifty to 
 two hundred per acre. The severe drought 
 or I should rather say, the small quantity of 
 moisture, for what we had was well distrib- 
 uted — may bear part of the blame. Also 
 the patch occupied our poorer land. 
 
 It will be remembered that one of the few 
 things Herodotus could not believe was the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 199 
 
 tale of the Persian King who brought water 
 for the use of his army through leathern 
 pipes. That was the kind of hose used when 
 I was young, unaltered since the days of 
 Herodotus; but now rubber has driven It 
 out. Irrigation, again, was wont to be prac- 
 tised this many years by small ditches and 
 trenches; but now the fluid Is conveyed 
 through Iron pipes and rubber hose. It Is 
 chiefly applied for celery, naturally an aqua- 
 tic plant, which thrives In cool moist ground. 
 In very dry weather small furrows are 
 made, and the water allowed to run down 
 them from the aforesaid pipes or hose, 
 which, should the land slope the wrong way, 
 are much In evidence, as the water has to be 
 taken to the other end, and then permitted 
 to run back. When the soil Is well soaked, 
 dry earth Is pulled over It, to keep It from 
 drying out until next morning, when the 
 young plants are set out, about four Inches 
 apart, and treated to another liquid dose a 
 few days later, run In between the rows. 
 
 September 2j. Before the wars of the 
 Roses the king was a more powerful noble; 
 after them the noble was a more powerful 
 citizen. Before our Civil War, a master 
 mechanic was a laborer who could give or- 
 ders; since then a laborer Is a machine who 
 can take orders. 
 
 September 24. S. Saw on a log bunches 
 of those long pale fungi known as "dead 
 
200 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 men's fingers". It lay in a damp and shady 
 place, over a brook. Old lawyers are made 
 judges as worn out files are made into cold 
 chisels. 
 
 Have figurative insults gone out? Many, 
 once prevalent, seem to have become obso- 
 lete, and some others have arisen to take 
 their place. The fiche, or protrusion of the 
 thumb, with the first and little fingers, (as 
 against benediction, given with the first 
 three digits extended) was supposed to ward 
 oi^ the evil eye, at the same time conveying 
 the damning imputation of witchcraft on the 
 basis of defence being insult. In the same 
 category would come many inelegant posi- 
 tions of the hands and fingers, prevalent fifty 
 or sixty years ago, as may be seen in the 
 cartoons and caricatures of that period. The 
 suggestion of a verdant stain upon fine rai- 
 ment, the presentation of a rare marsh flow- 
 er, were once pregnant sources of offense. 
 Nor were mankind immune from other such 
 practical innuendoes. Every one has heard 
 of giving the mitten, though it now seems to 
 have sunk away in dime novel metaphors. 
 A whetstone was once the badge of a liar, a 
 white clout at the coat-tail the sign of a cow- 
 ard, or at least an intermeddler in household 
 affairs which concerned him not; while the 
 gift of a leather medal conveyed peculiar ig- 
 nominy, and, perhaps longest lived of all, 
 the scissors symbol still charges with redun- 
 dancy of speech. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 201 
 
 September 2^. Dug potatoes. Cool 
 windy weather. The bunches of crab-grass 
 are much in evidence, and have to be torn 
 out to a considerable extent, entailing almost 
 as much labor as lifting the potatoes. 
 
 Crab-grass is a product of late summer, 
 only second to the mushroom in rapidity of 
 growth. You look over your potato or to- 
 mato patch one day, and think how clean 
 and well weeded it looks. Ensues a showery 
 night. Next day a slight greenness is visible 
 over the clods and cracks. And in what 
 seems like only a few hours more, the crab- 
 grass is upon you, rising like an exhalation, 
 but by no means sinking in the same way. It 
 grows in posture of seeming humility, but 
 throws out rootlets at every joint, and soon 
 it is so firmly established that only plowing 
 will uproot it. You try to tear up a little of 
 it with your hands from around some special 
 plant; but the weak stems break at the joints 
 leaving roots enough in the ground for twen- 
 ty clumps. Even if, with a potato hook or 
 hoe, you succeed in digging it out, an enor- 
 mous mass of earth comes with it, leaving a 
 hole beyond belief. Crab-grass will make a 
 sort of hay, but it makes horses slobber, and 
 gives men hay fever; at least the pollen from 
 its fine purple panicles coincides with that 
 complaint more than the blossoming of any 
 other herb. 
 
 Hay is, with us, chiefly made from timo- 
 thy grass (said to derive its name from Tim- 
 othy Hurd, who first brought it into general 
 
202 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 use) though clover mixed Is occasionally 
 quoted In the city markets. Red-top, and oth- 
 er such stuff, is mostly kept for home con- 
 sumption. In England, the hay is much finer 
 and shorter. To them our timothy hay ap- 
 pears as if made from small rushes. In the 
 Southern States hay makes but little figure, 
 corn fodder being the chief reliance for their 
 short winters. Such hay as I saw in Italy 
 seemed to be made for the most part from 
 some kind of annual summer grass, neither 
 savory nor substantial; while the condition 
 of the horses fed upon it was no recommen- 
 dation of its excellence. Certainly, it seemed 
 to agree with mules, but then thistles are 
 said to agree with donkeys. Ten pounds of 
 good hay per day, with a small ration of 
 grain, will suffice for a horse; though much 
 more is often fed. Say about two tons a 
 year. At twenty dollars a ton, this would 
 be forty for long fodder. Oats, one peck 
 per day, at 40 cents per bushel, about as 
 much more. Shoeing, and an occasional 
 bunch of grass or ear of corn, would bring it 
 up to about one hundred dollars per year, 
 supposing everything had to be bought. At- 
 tendance, as elsewhere stated, is supposed 
 to be balanced by the manure; while it may 
 be safely stated that, barring accident, a 
 horse need never be sick. 
 
 September 26. Finished digging late po- 
 tatoes. Thirty-four bushels from half an 
 acre. This is better than the earlier, but 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 203 
 
 nothing to boast of. The land was in beets 
 last year, and, though well manured, pro- 
 duced a miserable crop. They were over 
 run with crab-grass and smart-weed, which 
 presumably took out all put in. 
 
 The Blue Grass of Kentucky, and the 
 Blue Grass of New Jersey are quite differ- 
 ent. The first, of which every one has heard, 
 is by no means peculiar to that state, but is 
 found in a dozen others. Only in the "dark 
 and bloody ground" it attains a vigor of 
 growth and a depth of hue which have 
 placed it at one remove from green, as the 
 black-grass of the marshes has been set in 
 another direction. The northern name of 
 Blue Grass is "June Grass", a feathery- 
 headed narrow bladed herb, forming the 
 mainstay of ten thousand lawns, but the true 
 blue grass (Poa compressa) is much rarer 
 and slower of growth, generally appearing 
 around old trees, posts and the like, its stalks 
 thin, flattened, and really blue in color, its 
 growth short and close, its roots so tough 
 that many a mattock-blow is needed to cut 
 them through. It is very nutritious, but so 
 wiry that animals generally shun it after the 
 seed-heads appear, while it makes but little 
 figure as hay, the keenest scythe and the 
 sharpest mower-knife often sliding over it. 
 When once cut, it leaves a very white stub- 
 ble, as the deep color of the upper stem 
 pales an inch or two from the ground. 
 
 September 2J. Ploughed the potato 
 
204 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ground. While V. did this, I harrowed af- 
 ter, with a basket on my arm, picking up 
 those potatoes which had escaped the forks. 
 They amounted to about a bushel in all. 
 This is a kind of gleaning such as Moses's 
 law would have forbidden to the owner in 
 the days when there were hungry bodies 
 about, ready to do it. 
 
 When the maize (corn) is earing out in 
 August it is most subject to injury from wind 
 and rain combined. In June, or even in July, 
 a cornfield may be laid almost flat without 
 serious injury. Though apparently crushed 
 as if by a roller, in two or three days it will 
 rise up and straighten out in a remarkable 
 manner, unless it has been battered by hail. 
 But in August, despite the brace-roots, when 
 the stalks are loaded with the heavy, if im- 
 mature ears, if wind and rain come together 
 the plant must fall, and fall like Lucifer, 
 never to rise again. Not that this, of neces- 
 sity, ruins the crop. I have more than once 
 harvested very good yields of corn from a 
 field which had been thus laid — the stalks 
 fallen in all directions and in many layers, 
 plaited, twisted, woven together like basket 
 work, the tips of a few feebly curling up- 
 ward, the ears soiled with sand and mud. 
 But though the labor of harvesting such a 
 crop is great, the quantity and quality of 
 the grain seem little reduced. But the stalks 
 make feeble stooks and mis-shapen bundles. 
 
 September 28. Finished harrowing, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 205 
 
 burned trash, and sowed by hand something 
 over an acre of wheat. The surveyors, who 
 for a space did fail, after running three lines 
 through the woods, have been flitting about 
 again the last day or two, and during the 
 sowing I thought I heard them chopping in 
 the woods. So, the wheat got in, I went on 
 horseback to look them up. Presently I 
 came on an oak tree In full leaf just felled 
 more than fifty feet high, as I afterwards 
 found by measurement, and two feet round. 
 The sight transported me. All the dryads 
 seemed to call aloud for help. I made a 
 circuit, bore in the direction of voices, and 
 found six or eight fellows sitting in a clump 
 on the ground, just within our limits. I cir- 
 cled round them like a barking hound, objur- 
 gating and protesting. They said little to 
 the purpose save to Inquire if they were on 
 my land, and say that the company had or- 
 dered a new course; and I said little to the 
 purpose beyond threatening to pull up their 
 sticks. After a heated interview we parted. 
 
 September 2g. Drilled wheat in Farfield. 
 Two troughs on the machine are filled, the 
 one with fertilizer, the other with seed, 
 which run down together through rubber 
 tubes, and are deposited In little furrows, 
 made by the share, of which one goes before 
 each tube. The grass seed is contained In 
 another little box, and gradually shaken on 
 the earth through which the shares are about 
 to pass. One drives, keeping a wheel of the 
 
2o6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 drill always on the last share's track. The 
 field is left, as Hardy says, resembling a 
 piece of corduroy, save for here and there a 
 tuft of oats, sprung from the grain scattered 
 at harvest. A note from Mr. A. threaten- 
 ing worse if I removed those stakes, which 
 it seems are far more to be respected than 
 trees twenty times their height. 
 
 September jo. Finished driUing in Far- 
 field. A constant eye must be kept on the 
 various troughs on the drill, that neither 
 seed nor fertilizer shall fail when we are 
 away from the field edge, where the bags are 
 piled. R. who is next to have the drill, came 
 during the morning, anxiously inquiring if 
 we were done. We finished at noon, and 
 the index marked six and a half acres. 
 
 Marl is known to most people only as the 
 soil of the Inferno, and by them supposed 
 to be an abbreviation of marble. So that 
 when the Furies cried from the iron tower 
 "Venga Medusa, e s'il farem di smalto" 
 they only wished Dante to be converted into 
 something a little harder than the surface he 
 trod. But in reality it is a substance some- 
 thing between sand, clay, and soft rock, with 
 a large admixture of lime, sometimes crop- 
 ping out to the surface, but generally found 
 in deposits several feet deep, which was 
 much in repute forty years ago for modify- 
 ing and improving the barren sands of 
 South Jersey. It was green in color, han- 
 dled something like coal dust, and would 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 207 
 
 smear a little when crushed. During the 
 winter of 1870 I hauled ten tons of this 
 from a place seven miles off, and put It in 
 small heaps on grass land, spreading it in 
 the spring. On the whole, the results were 
 meagre. Grass was a little better where it 
 was first heaped, but only a little ; and I think 
 the money laid out in barnyard manure or 
 guano, would have given better results. It 
 has now sunk into oblivion as a top-dressing, 
 along with its partner, muck; nor do I know 
 of anyone who has used either for many 
 years. 
 
 Lime is another of the old-fashioned sup- 
 posed enrichments of the land, whose use 
 has not yet entirely died out, though rapidly 
 passing. Many a load have I carted and 
 spread, choking myself with the dust, crack- 
 ing my shoes and finger-tips, and all to little 
 purpose. A sturdy faith in its efficiency long 
 prevailed, even when no results appeared; 
 it must somehow do good, even if you could 
 not see it. Gas-lime, which has been used 
 as a purifier of illuminating gas, and turned 
 green in the process, could be had very 
 cheaply thirty years ago, and was much ap- 
 plied by a German neighbor. It was gener- 
 ally left in small heaps all winter, being 
 thought to ''burn" the land, if spread at 
 once ; and its pungent odor rises still in mem- 
 ory. Plaster, so much had in regard by 
 Franklin that he traced upon a field with it 
 the words — "This was done with plaster," 
 as an object-lesson to his neighbors, has been 
 
2o8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 with me, yet more barren of result. A posi- 
 tive friend used to say to me "You do a 
 great deal of useless work", and methinks he 
 was right, as regards the labor I expended 
 on muck, marl, lime, and plaster. Only 
 barn-yard manure and commercial fertilizers 
 come back. 
 
 October i. S. Perhaps the time may yet 
 come when all human intercourse will be by 
 intuitions and aspirations, and a spoken sen- 
 tence will be as brutal as a blow. 
 
 It has been asked why we should speak of 
 the olden time, the days of old, etc., when 
 really that was the youth of the world, and 
 we are the gray-beard ancients, with the ex- 
 perience and lore of the ages. But really 
 antiquity is there, only just behind our backs. 
 Paul Dombey was often termed old-fash- 
 ioned; but this only meant that he had been 
 brought up much — nay, chiefly — in the so- 
 ciety of his parents and their contemporar- 
 ies. Forty years back is a strange and un- 
 known land — it is too close for us to reach, 
 and but for the brave novehsts we would 
 hardly know anything about it at all. We 
 cannot focus our eyes on i860; the age of 
 crinoline and peg-tops is further off than the 
 age of the toga and the pallium. The time 
 when "our grandfather was alive" is within 
 the precincts of "yonder" which has been de- 
 fined as out of call, but within sight. All the 
 memories of survivors record the strange 
 tongue they spoke, but Plato and Horace 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 209 
 
 used the language all can understand, the 
 mother-speech taught us pre-natally. 
 
 October 2. V. rolled wheat field. I 
 burned trash cut in August, and lying in 
 soaked winrows ever since (some derive this 
 from windrow, as if the crop were blown 
 into lines by the wind; but wain-row seems 
 more probable, the row along which the 
 wain was driven to be loaded.) 
 
 "The tanned haycock in the mead" says 
 Milton; but while the epithet is true for a 
 time, it does not long remain so. The cock, 
 supposing it to remain long in situ, first 
 changes from green to gray, then pales out, 
 then, if exposed to many rains, turns black, 
 and finally, after three or four weeks, turns 
 pale again, and so remains, if left for a year. 
 Corn stooks, on the other hand, after long 
 remaining white, or nearly so, blacken In the 
 succeeding year, and so remain among the 
 new herbage. When passing through the 
 Shenandoah Valley, in 1886, twenty years 
 after the close of the Civil War, I was struck 
 by the resemblance of the soldiers' ruined 
 huts to old corn-stooks. They had been built 
 of fence-rails, set up in cones, presumably 
 fastened at the top by a withe, possibly wat- 
 tled or woven In some way with bushes. All 
 had fallen, most had decayed, but a few still 
 remained, clear spots among the grass with a 
 few butts of the biggest rails still radiating 
 from a centre, to show where the heads of 
 the invading army had been laid. Doubtless, 
 
2IO A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 by this time, every hut has disappeared. 
 
 October 3. Began cutting corn. No oth- 
 er work done by hand makes such a show as 
 this. A good man can cut an acre a day; and 
 though he might mow as much grass, or cra- 
 dle more grain, yet the corn, being ten or 
 twelve feet high, bears a better showing. 
 Several years back, I was engaged at this 
 work when two strangers crossed the field. 
 One of them, supposing me to be working by 
 the job, stopped and inquired "How much 
 d'ye get for this?" "Board and clothes", I 
 replied. He stared a minute, then walked 
 on. 
 
 A cornstalk which has borne two good 
 ears is worth very little, as a stalk; virtue 
 has gone out of it. A barren stalk is limber 
 and tough, and makes a capital binder. Fre- 
 quently, one is found which has attempted 
 too much, showing the beginnings of six or 
 seven ears, but none brought to perfection. 
 Never in my life have I seen a split or twin 
 stalk, though there seems no reason why 
 they should not appear occasionally, as twin 
 leaves do. The ears sport more frequently 
 being double, paged, headed, split, curled; 
 and I have even seen them with a hole 
 through the middle of the cob, admirably 
 tending to drying. Shredded fodder is spok- 
 en of latterly, but it is liable to mold and 
 spoil, once the heart is broken into. By the 
 way, when pith is such a poor and worthless 
 thing, only fitted for toys, punk and padding. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 211 
 
 why should it be considered laudatory to 
 term an utterance pithy? And why, on re- 
 verse, when sap is the life of the tree, and 
 the most valuable thing about some trees and 
 plants, why should "sappy" be a disparaging 
 appellation? Again, "shucks" indicate ut- 
 ter worthlessness, "husky" is thought rather 
 fine. 
 
 October 4. The corn is cut in square, gen- 
 erally 7x7 though 6x8, 6x6^ and even 5x5 
 are in use. The first block — 49 — leaves a 
 central hill which is not severed from the 
 earth and round which the rest are set up. 
 This is the true meaning of the word 
 "stook", namely, a bundle of grain in the 
 straw held in one place by a few stalks still 
 rooted. Maize and buck-wheat, as far as I 
 know, are the only crops thus harvested. 
 Both "shock" and "stack" are used for 
 these bunches, but incorrectly. The first sig- 
 nifies a number of sheaves — 12 to 20 — set 
 up together. The other signifies a pile of 
 loose fodder, in layers nearly or quite hori- 
 zontal. It follows that Hood was technically 
 wrong when he said of Ruth — 
 
 "There she stood among the stooks". 
 
 The feeble theory that "Comin' thro' the 
 rye" had its origin in the passage of a small 
 brook or stream of that name deserves no 
 credence. First, a watercourse must be fitted 
 out with a meaningless title, secondly, when 
 so fitted it is no better place for kissing than 
 any other. But rye was clearly selected be- 
 
212 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 cause it alone, of all grains known to the 
 Scottish poet, grew tall and thick enough to 
 conceal, or partially conceal, the forms of 
 two lovers passing through it from observa- 
 tion. Had he been acquainted with Indian 
 corn, he might have chosen that. The cir- 
 cumstance sometimes adduced for the brook 
 theory, that one verse of the song reads, or 
 might read — 
 
 "Jenny is a'wat, puir body, 
 Comin' thro' the rye." 
 IS little to the purpose; for it is quite possible 
 to get well soaked, in passing through a field 
 of grain after rain or dew. 
 
 "Twickenham Ferry" and good store of 
 other songs may suffice for the partisans of 
 water-courses; let us hold to the traditionary 
 bright-haired lad and lass half seen, half hid- 
 den among the tall bending stems of grain. 
 
 October 5. Continued cutting corn. The 
 stubs of the cut stalks show sharply over the 
 cleared field, like old time calthrops. We 
 had a youthful visitor here one day, who 
 running carelessly through the field, fell and 
 struck his forehead on one of these stubs, 
 cutting an ugly gash. Rising, gory and vocal 
 he declared he would kill every cat on the 
 place. The feline race certainly was not re- 
 sponsible for his downfall; but judgment is 
 shown in proposing a scheme of vengeance 
 within one's powers. 
 
 Youth is like asparagus shoots; succulent 
 and tender, all head, and easily crushed. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 213 
 
 Why do we not have a noun to express the 
 other extreme, without a qualifying adjec- 
 tive? Could not something be done with 
 ''senectus?" Many words have been worse 
 treated. The mediaevals set the coming of 
 weary eld quite early. John of Gaunt, whom 
 Shakespeare loads with epithets to express 
 the degree of superannuation he had reached 
 was barely fifty when he addressed all those 
 admonitions to the luckless Richard. But 
 the conditions of life were so hard in the 
 Middle Ages that as soon as one's energies 
 began to fail, down he went. Few are those 
 who make a name beyond fifty. Marlbor- 
 ough and Richardson are the most notable 
 instances. The greatest oldest man of mod- 
 ern times was undoubtedly Titian; that is, if 
 we are to believe the legends concerning him, 
 which, on the whole, is not a bad thing to do. 
 
 October 6. Finished the three corner, and 
 began on the main square of Longfield. 
 Some of the corn on the old field we broke 
 last spring, was very good, some very poor. 
 There is a good deal of round-top (a weed 
 with a tough, upright stem, four or five feet 
 in height, leaves nearly circular) among the 
 best of it, and many sassafras sprouts, al- 
 ready gaudy with frost. The stick-tight, or 
 beggar-weed, is also quite abundant, as yet 
 innocuously green. A few warm, dry days 
 will develop its importunities. 
 
 Between insects, blights, fires, paper mak- 
 ers, grading, telegraphs and asphalt, it 
 
214 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 seems probable that in a hundred years more 
 there will be no trees left, only bushes and 
 grass. They can stand a great deal, but not 
 everything. One large hollow tree in our 
 town, standing a little beyond the curb line, 
 was preserved for many years by being filled 
 in with brick and mortar. Another, left 
 nearly two feet out of ground by the lower- 
 ing of a sidewalk level thirty years ago, has 
 accommodated itself to conditions and grown 
 as many roots below its old ones as if water 
 level had reflected them. On the other hand, 
 two or three trees on another street were 
 filled around at much the same date to a 
 depth of three or four feet, and still survive, 
 the former spring of their main branches 
 now being just above ground. These last 
 were maples, a tree which will stand more 
 abuse than any other unless it be the ailan- 
 thus. Often-times a tree, gnawed or other- 
 wise barked half way around, will live for a 
 long time on the strip of bark remaining, 
 and sometimes grow a new stem, bowed to 
 one side. Dogwoods will now and then, 
 when bent to the earth for a long time, send 
 out new roots from the twigs pressed into 
 the soil, and may be, in time, would live by 
 them. 
 
 October 7. Continued cutting corn. The 
 crop is in good shape, stands up well, has not 
 been broken or tangled by storms, and the 
 weather is fair and dry. Last season an 
 early frost in September considerably in- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 215 
 
 jured the fodder, and the stalks were crook- 
 ed. One year the convolvulus, or bindweed, 
 was so thick on the stalks that they heated in 
 the stack, but very little of that weed ap- 
 pears on Longfield. The maize plant is the 
 only one remaining w^hich is still, on a large 
 scale, planted, cut up and husked (its homo- 
 logue for thrashing) by hand. Long has 
 this prevailed, but machines are creeping in 
 — cutting sleds, little Giant Mowers, etc. — 
 and perhaps in twenty years more the corn 
 knife and the husking-pin will be as obsolete 
 as the sickle and the flail. 
 
 Summer fallowing is another practice 
 which has pretty well died out. It did very 
 well when wheat was raised in a land where 
 time and labor counted little, but manure 
 was scarce, as in the Eastern States, and still 
 more England, a hundred years ago. Then 
 was the prosperous time of the farmer (not 
 the laborer) any man ought to make money 
 when wheat is five dollars a bushel, and he 
 can get all the labor he wants at about fifty 
 cents a day. Harris, an agricultural writer 
 of 1870, had a good deal to say of fallow- 
 ing, and it Is more frequently referred to by 
 George Eliot than any other farm opera- 
 tion. It was a good plan In its time, killing 
 weeds, cleaning the ground; while there are 
 many heavy soils which yield up their fer- 
 tility, slowly but surely, by trituration alone, 
 which grow rich (again to quote G. Eliot) 
 by the negative process of spending nothing 
 under the plow, harrow and roller. But a 
 
2i6 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 neglected fallow is worse than none, and 
 the farmer must not be idle when the land is. 
 Wheat has gone to the West and North, 
 where, as yet, the land lives on its capital, 
 hoed crops have taken the fallow's place, 
 and a good sounding word passes away out 
 of the language. 
 
 October 8. S. They say fewer tears are 
 shed in this world than of yore, but is there 
 more laughter? I imagine decidedly less, of 
 the sycophantic and adulatory kind. But 
 there is surely more of it in speeches, politi- 
 cal and social, and even in sermons. The 
 laugh is also more in use to assert superiority 
 and to cover embarrassment. By all the 
 books, laborers used to laugh and sing, at 
 their work, and over their ale. But one very 
 seldom hears the former now, and almost 
 never the latter. Drinking places, large and 
 small, are generally silent as the grave. 
 
 Cities form on straits just as people crowd 
 in doorways. And as it may be observed that 
 where an apartment has two doors it is al- 
 ways the portal of egress which is crowded, 
 so on lakes or seas the town is built where 
 the stream leaves the lake, not where it en- 
 ters. The upper end of Lake Leman is a 
 scene of desolation — a great flat of silt and 
 detritus, strewn with boulders large and 
 small through which the Rhone winds its ob- 
 structed way; but at the other end of the 
 lake, where the Rhone leaves it, is the fair 
 city of Geneva. The lake of the four Can- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 217 
 
 tons has various inconsiderable villages 
 along Its upper shores, but at its outlet is Lu- 
 zern, held by some to be the most beautiful 
 place In the world. So It Is with life. We 
 make wonderfully little of the entrance door, 
 all things considered; the recruiting station, 
 though of utmost Interest to many, Is never 
 crowded. But the passage of exit is so 
 thronged that only one can pass out at a 
 time; there are deposited monuments and 
 obituaries, testaments and memories; did it 
 depend on us, none would ever get through. 
 
 October g. Getting up near the road, 
 where the corn is at Its best. I remember 
 Dr. N. spread a dozen loads or so of tobac- 
 co stems on this part of the field. Saw C. go 
 by on his one horse wagon, with a little jag 
 of potatoes. More than thirty years ago he 
 and his father used to go to and fro in the 
 same way. They lived in town, but had a 
 little farm to which they went nearly every 
 day, and from which they always brought a 
 trifling load — five or six bushels of potatoes, 
 a dozen pumpkins, a little heap of corn, a 
 few bunches of fodder — and on the front 
 sat father and son, much alike, save that one 
 was pale and grey-haired, the other rosy and 
 red-haired. Now old C. has passed away, 
 and young C. perhaps sixty, jogs to and fro 
 as of yore. But no son sits beside him. 
 
 Much curious lore lurks about the under- 
 pinning of an old wagon; the long wheel- 
 hubs, with a little notch in the outer band, to 
 
2i8 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 receive the long forgotten llnch-pin; the big 
 wooden axles, which have stood wear and 
 weather these sixty years, with the slim 
 "skenes" above and below the arm for the 
 wheel to turn on; the long, reach, sword, or 
 disselboom connecting them; the king-bolt, 
 passing through the langhead and front 
 axle; the bolster where rests his majesty's 
 crown, the tongue, long and slender beyond 
 the ant-eaters; the hounds, perhaps most im- 
 aginatively named of all the framework, a 
 name given to the double brace, one on each 
 side the tongue, as though, like hunting dogs, 
 they sprang forward at once, seizing their 
 prey. 
 
 Each large city seems to have a convey- 
 ance named after a suburb. London has its 
 Hackney-coach, Philadelphia its German- 
 town (a light covered wagon with a tail 
 board which let down, but did not lock like 
 a tail board unless you knew) New York its 
 Rockaway. One of the former pleasures of 
 travel was to see and try the vehicles pecu- 
 liar to each place, but that has gone by now, 
 the trolley car is swallowing them all. 
 
 October lo. Finished cutting corn. Four 
 hundred and fifty-four stooks from perhaps 
 nine acres. The "Indian wigwams" as 
 Trowbridge calls them, stand in even rows 
 along and across the field, the better ones 
 with dangling purses. The pumpkins, of 
 which there were about a hundred, have been 
 put under the stooks as we went, to hide them 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 219 
 
 from pilferers, who lose all self-control at 
 sight of the golden globes. The fence rows 
 are full of loose tassels and blades, rusty 
 Steinklrks and bilboes, cast away by the fall- 
 en host. A sizable patch of Canada thistle, 
 discovered near this end of the field, would 
 cause me more perturbation if I did not 
 know how little our soil favors that weed. 
 
 Fall plowing seems an unnatural proceed- 
 ing. Than plowing In spring nothing could 
 be more in nature's course. The roll of the 
 furrows goes with the rotation of the earth. 
 In spring the ground is clear, the weeds have 
 for the most part been frozen away, the sod 
 is short, the animals do not remonstrate. 
 Sometimes there Is a little too much mois- 
 ture, but that is better than the reverse. In 
 autumn, though the days grow short, they 
 are at times quite sultry, the ground is hard 
 and dry, the tall grass and weeds clog on the 
 plow like seaweed on the stem of a boat; 
 wasps and bees occasionally utter fierce re- 
 monstrance, and above all, one knows that 
 the crop to be sown will not mature until 
 next year. Fall wheat and rye could never 
 have been sown until great earthly faith and 
 patience existed; the first man who raised 
 winter wheat must have been in good prep- 
 aration for the spiritual life. For every vir- 
 tue must have its worldly foundation; the 
 higher life begins with "rising from the 
 earthen". 
 
 October 11. Began picking winter apples. 
 
220 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Smith's cider or WInesap (they seem much 
 alike) and Nero. Many have already fall- 
 en, and are too good to leave on the ground, 
 but I know they will not keep well in store. 
 The very best apples are on the highest and 
 outmost boughs, and are reached with dif- 
 ficulty, or have to be got down by shaking, 
 which of course bruises them. Now and then 
 we find one spiked on a stiff bit of stubble. 
 Children frequently come and ask to be al- 
 lowed to pick up a few on the ground, but 
 as such permission generally results in their 
 ascending the trees, and thrashing them with 
 vehemence, we mostly refuse. 
 
 The story is told of a man visiting a Food 
 Exhibit, that, being urged to sample the 
 goods, he picked up and ate in succession, 
 at different tables, what he took for twelve 
 caramels of strange flavor. His heart was 
 almost too full for utterance when on taking 
 up a circular, he read — "One of these tab- 
 loids is equal to a full meal". Such might be 
 the sensations of a student reading Bacon's 
 Essays straight through. Many trashy nov- 
 elists, on the other hand, are like carbonic 
 acid gas, which though poisonous to the no- 
 bler organs, may be taken into the stomach 
 without harm. De Morgan resembles pota- 
 to cake; wholesome and not unpalatable, but 
 very filling. The same will apply, more or 
 less, to the prose writings of Jean Ingelow, 
 Smollett is like strong cheese, odor worse 
 than taste. Du Maurier may be compared 
 to absinthe, most tastefully disguised, and 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 221 
 
 attractively put up. And how many writers, 
 good in their way, have through their pages 
 a gentle savor of hops. 
 
 October 12. Wheat is breaking ground 
 well, and among it may be seen on close 
 scrutiny, the infantile and imitative grass. 
 Scarcely is it up when the spiders stretch 
 their Hnes from one point to another in the 
 early morning. The place where a brush 
 heap was burnt seven years back, the spot 
 where a dunghill stood five years ago, is now 
 distinct in the darker green of the more num- 
 erous blades. Is this so much added to the 
 field, or so much subtracted from the imme- 
 diate vicinity of the aforesaid heap or hill? 
 
 Forty, or nearly forty years ago, I was 
 driving past the locomotive house in our 
 good town, when I was hailed by a man look- 
 ing like a broken engineer, who asked if I 
 didn't want to buy some wood ashes. Be- 
 lieving that the article was worth gold, I 
 rushed home, wrung the money from a re- 
 luctant parent (I can not remember the ex- 
 act sum per bushel) loaded them into my 
 wagon, took them home, and spread them on 
 a meadow. I regret to say the results were 
 scarce perceptible. Later on, when we had 
 wood of our own to burn, I used to save the 
 ashes, and apply them to potatoes in the 
 spring; still without special effect. Have 
 gradually settled down to the belief that 
 while ashes are beneficial, it is only when ap- 
 plied in large quantity, as the mass remain- 
 
222 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ing from burning a pile of brush or weeds. 
 This certainly shows; I know one place 
 where a weed-heap was burnt seven years 
 ago, and the difference In grass can be seen a 
 quarter-mile off. Perhaps this Is partly the 
 calcining of the earth; or perhaps, a still 
 gloomier hypothesis, the soil around Is im- 
 poverished In proportion. 
 
 October /j. The nutters are becoming 
 busy. We have one big chestnut, standing 
 out in the field, which we try to reserve, put- 
 ting signs upon it, and keeping as close watch 
 as possible. Scores of others, in the woods, 
 are abandoned to the public; but they want 
 that too. Once I put up a notice, "All per- 
 sons forbidden taking nuts here"." This was 
 intended to prohibit picking fallen nuts from 
 the ground, as well as beating them from the 
 trees. Shortly after, seeing two youthful 
 gatherers, I went and Inquired why they paid 
 no attention to the sign. "We are making 
 no noise" said they. "What has noise to do 
 with It?" I asked. "The sign says 'AH 
 persons forbid talking,' " they replied. 
 
 On another occasion, I found two youth- 
 ful nutters at this same tree, who fled at my 
 approach. As they seemed to have collected 
 a fat bag of nuts, I pursued. The fugitives 
 at first kept to the open fields, where they 
 could outfoot me, then, very unwisely, took 
 to the woods. There the advantage was 
 mine. I could smash through the bushes 
 which they had to go round, so that capture 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 223 
 
 and restitution soon ensued. I never so fully 
 realized the statement of Burton, Gordon 
 Gumming, et al., that a horse can beat a rhi- 
 noceros in the open, but a rhinoceros can 
 beat a horse in the jungle. 
 
 October i^. Finished picking apples, 
 about 25 bushels. This is the largest quanti- 
 ty of winter apples we have had for several 
 years. On the other farm we had the New- 
 town pippin, a finer fruit and a better keeper 
 than any we have here. I remember we once 
 kept a dozen of them into June. 
 
 The Ignis Fatuus, Jack-o'Lantern, Will-o' 
 the Wisp, etc., never prevailed in this coun- 
 try as in the Old World, where the eye rath- 
 er than the ear was deluded. But I recollect 
 one instance, occuring about 1835, being re- 
 lated to me by an eye-witness, "It was a 
 dark, cool, windy fall evening in Oswego, 
 N. Y. About eight o'clock I was coming up 
 to our house from the store, when I saw 
 what I thought was a man with a lantern 
 about a block away from me. But in a min- 
 ute it was up at the next corner, quicker than 
 any man could run. I then supposed it must 
 be in a wagon, and went on home. Before 
 I got into the house, it appeared again, and 
 for nearly two hours flashed up and down 
 the street, leaping three or four hundred 
 feet in a second. No sound of any kind ac- 
 companied It. At the nearest approach, per- 
 haps two rods or so, it seemed like a ball of 
 fire about as big as one's head, but of indis- 
 
224 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 tlnct outline. At times we would lose it for 
 five or ten minutes, after which it would re- 
 appear over the burying ground, some dis- 
 tance off, and come darting toward us again. 
 Once it entered the door of a deserted house 
 opposite, and in a moment came out of the 
 chimney, causing our 'help' to say she would 
 not stay a night in that house for all the 
 money in the world. About ten it vanished." 
 
 October 75. S. The soul of goodness in 
 things evil appears in what now seems the 
 cruel old time treatment of suicides and il- 
 legitimates. The object was not wanton 
 atrocity, but the discouragement of self mur- 
 der and unlawful unions. Jails and work- 
 houses, too, were built for good purposes, 
 though so much denounced. Perhaps the day 
 will come when historians will tell how the 
 emissaries of the State used to approach the 
 helpless aged with money, and insult their 
 wretchedness by offering them five shillings a 
 week calling it "Old Age Pensions". 
 
 Shakespeare's hard treatment of the Jew 
 may have resulted from the fact that there 
 were none in England in his time; from Wal- 
 lace to Cromwell no Hebrew lived on Eng- 
 lish soil. Thus the poet had to draw on a 
 most fertile imagination; accurately describ- 
 ing the archer's aim, but needlessly abasing 
 the target. Creed was the cause of hatred 
 then, as color is now. Gentlemen seem to 
 have felt no way degraded by serving under 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 225 
 
 Othello; but they despised and Insulted Shy- 
 lock, a denizen of the same city. Just be- 
 fore, and just after the Crusades, when 
 ''Whoever held or faith or honor dear 
 Strove for the cause of Christ against Mah- 
 moud", the Cid fought under Moslem ban- 
 ners, and Charles V. made alliances with the 
 Turks; in these days our gorge rises if a 
 black man wins a prize-fight. Once we hated 
 the Chinese because they worshipped a yel- 
 low dragon; now we hate them because they 
 have yellow skins. What reviler of the Mid- 
 dle Ages ever termed his enemy a "nigger" ? 
 What insulter of our own day ever calls his 
 foe a miscreant? 
 
 October 16. Began husking. We pulled 
 down the stooks I lately set up with so much 
 care, cutting the hill which anchored them to 
 earth, drag two, three, or four of them to- 
 gether, and pull them over sideways, break- 
 ing the ears from their husks, and flinging 
 them together into a heap. As yet the corn 
 Is rather soft and damp, and it will not do to 
 push on the work too rapidly, lest the ac- 
 cumulated mass heat In the crib. One bushel 
 to the stook is a fair crop, one and a half 
 good, two, very good. The bereaved stalks 
 are bound with straw or twine In bundles 
 about large enough to go under one's arm, 
 and set up In shocks to cure still more. 
 
 October ly. Beautiful, calm, hazy day. 
 Gossamer flying In flakes and long strings 
 
226 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 over the fields. Thoreau says it is called in 
 Germany "the Hying summer" as though that 
 season tore to fragments and visibly blew 
 away. Sometimes by looking up with one's 
 hat held against the sun one can see the air 
 filled, high as a hawk fiics, with the glisten- 
 ing streaks, like a dry snow storm. 
 
 The kingfisher of our waters is not a bird 
 of specially noticeable plumage, chiefly re- 
 markable for his crest, long bill, and tail con- 
 spicuous by its absence. As he always car- 
 ries the captive fish in his beak, instead of his 
 claws, as does the fish hawk, one would sup- 
 pose that a tail would be needed to balance 
 the weight; but evidently such is not the case, 
 I have never seen him either in high air, or 
 diving in water, but always flying low, and 
 generally in shadow under a steep bank, in 
 which, presumably, the nest is made. The 
 king-bird or pewee, only resembling the king- 
 fisher in his crest, has a further reason of 
 name in his dauntless courage. He will at- 
 tack a crow, five or six times larger than him- 
 self and drive him clean out of sight, darting 
 down upon him at intervals, and plucking a 
 feather from his head or back, while the 
 larger bird thinks only of escape. The king- 
 bird also shows great alimentary daring, hov- 
 ering around bee-hives and swallowing the 
 occupants as they come and go, a proceeding 
 which seems but one remove from feeding on 
 coals of fire, or bits of glass. 
 
 October i8. Rain, which gossamer days 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 227 
 
 often precede, held up our husking today, 
 and threw us on getting in wood and straw. 
 Man suffers less from weather than his 
 crops, goods, clothes, tools, or weapons. And 
 the few things dampness does not injure are 
 susceptible to dryness. Peas, paint brushes, 
 boots, pumps, boats, are spoiled by drought. 
 The Spring undoubtedly suggested the 
 Naiad, i hat water should How or fall down- 
 ward is nothing extraordinary; but that it 
 should rise strongly upward is such an ap- 
 parent act of life that It must needs be per- 
 sonified. A spring's repellant power is won- 
 derful. Fresh, or at least fair, water can be 
 had within a stone's throw of the Atlantic 
 ocean. Arethusa rose from the bottom of 
 the Mediterranean, and I have heard of a 
 spring in a salt meadow, covered with brine 
 at high, tide, but pouring forth sweet water 
 at the ebb. Cooper, in the "Crater" repre- 
 sents a brook as flowing from the top of an 
 isolated peak in the sea, and though this is 
 difficult of belief, the springs found on the 
 small Islands of the Pacific must of necessity 
 be on the tops of submerged mountains. 
 When I was a boy, one might occasionally 
 see at country places small wooden pumps 
 which had not, nor needed handles, pouring 
 forth a ceaseless stream, the product of a 
 spring which had been conducted through 
 hollowed logs. These were termed pen- 
 stocks. Whence the name? Did the Hin- 
 doo "pane" and the Saxon "stick" here join 
 hands? 
 
228 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Bridges on the farm, such at least as are 
 intended for the passage of teams and wag- 
 ons, are apt to be very unpicturesque. Step- 
 ping stones, or a plank with handrail, are 
 easily made to look fairly well; but anything 
 larger soon settles into a mere dam, which 
 chokes the current when there is one, and 
 looks needless when there is not. To begin 
 with, it is very difficult to hold up the banks 
 of a small stream, so that they will not crush 
 down under the sleepers. The natural way 
 out of this difficulty is to make a box sluice. 
 But this is incredibly hard to construct of 
 logs, whole or split; boards are too frail, and 
 one falls on the planks taken from old stable 
 floors. A sluice having been made of these, 
 logs and brush are laid above it, and earth 
 piled on. But such a way, though it may 
 serve until the sluice chokes, altogether lacks 
 that clean severance of its parts from the 
 passing fluid which is essential to the grace 
 of all aquatic constructions. Bridges are fre- 
 quent subjects with the artist; but they must 
 be real bridges, not half floating logs or 
 swing-ferries. Boats of all kinds have ever 
 been admired; but no painter that I can recol- 
 lect has ever represented a raft, unless it 
 were a mere stage to bear the survivors of 
 the Meduse, or a single castaway. The wat- 
 erlogged can never be attractive. 
 
 October ig. Husked again in morning. 
 About noon it began to rain again. We kept 
 on for a little while, covering the heaps of 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 229 
 
 corn with stalks as we went but soon had to 
 get the wagon, load them in, covering with a 
 rubber sheet as much as possible, and cart 
 away to the corn crib. By the time we had 
 got it stowed, two handlings had pretty much 
 jarred the moisture from the ears. It takes 
 a very heavy rain, or actual submersion to 
 soak the oily kernels. 
 
 Found a rat's tail in a crack of one of the 
 doors, high up near the top. It had been 
 freshly pulled out by the roots, for some ten- 
 dons still hung to it. Could not account for its 
 presence. It was not tightly jammed in the 
 crack, for a light pull withdrew it. The own- 
 er would have had no trouble at all in get- 
 ting it out, as it would have tapered from 
 him. Had a cat, or other enemy of rodents 
 done it, the marks of teeth or claws would 
 have shown upon it. A terrible pull must 
 have been needed for its abstraction. These 
 animals not only devour the grain and meal, 
 but cut up bags, carriage cushions, and the 
 like for their nests, and are almost impossi- 
 ble to dislodge. They never go afield, as do 
 the mice, being seldom seen far from the 
 barns, though one would suppose them bet- 
 ter equipped for travel and defence. Their 
 boring and burrowing capacities are well 
 known. A rat is said to have gnawed off the 
 corner of a brick to make his tunnel, and 
 they will often eat through sticks which they 
 might, with less apparent toil, have pushed 
 aside or gone around. But probably their 
 incessant state of teething necessitates con- 
 
230 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 stant gnawing for its relief. 
 
 October 20. Rain again, no husking, so 
 shifted hay from the door end of the cow 
 barn, where it was first pitched in, to the 
 dark end almost unattainable by a wagon, to 
 make room for the corn stalks which will 
 soon be brought in. This cow barn is an an- 
 cient affair, perhaps eighty years old, built on 
 posts not one of which probably remains 
 sound at foot. So the whole concern stands 
 like a box on the earth, every year wasting a 
 little more on the lower edge, like a horse's 
 hoof. Of course, this leads to uneven set- 
 tling and cracking, but it may last twenty 
 years yet, unless a mighty wind arises. As 
 Carlyle says of the Ancient Regime "It is 
 surprising how long the rotten will last, if 
 you don't shake it". 
 
 Tethering of cows was first and is oftenest 
 practised in the Isle of Jersey, because there 
 the fields are small and the grass is rich. It 
 is evident that where ten acres are necessary 
 for the sustenance of a beast, it would starve 
 on a twenty-foot tether. But when grass is 
 so thick and strong that moving the stake 
 a yard, so that the cow does not even tread it 
 with her fore feet, will suffice to give her a 
 half day's feed, that equality of supply and 
 demand is presented which must ever glad- 
 den an economist's soul. And three or four 
 cows thus staked out, each cutting down a 
 crescent strip, have much the effect of a com- 
 pany of mowers, in slow but certain progress. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 231 
 
 There Is also no occasion for fences on this 
 plan, and scarcely a blade goes to waste. On 
 the other hand, the cows must be quiet ones. 
 A vicious animal, or even one unused to such 
 restraint, will cause much trouble, pull- 
 ing out her stake, twisting the rope or chain 
 Into kinks, or getting the line round her hind 
 foot, and then backing away until she Is 
 thrown. Very wet or very dry weather are 
 likewise unfavorable to this system. In the 
 former, the sod is badly trampled and cut up, 
 in the latter, the stakes are very hard to 
 drive. 
 
 October 21. Readers of *'Selborne" will 
 remember the countenance therein given to 
 the legend of swallows spending the winter 
 at the bottom of a pond. But I have seen, 
 and probably White saw, what looked very 
 like it. At about this time of year, I think in 
 1882, I was in a boat on the pond and saw a 
 large compact flock of swallows, probably 
 sixty or seventy, whirling, crossing, chatter- 
 ing, and much on the alert. Every now and 
 then one would leave the throng which hov- 
 ered about twenty feet from the surface, 
 dash down like a fish hawk diving, strike the 
 water, and apparently sink below It. Of 
 course if he did it must have been for a mo- 
 ment only, of course his loud descent must 
 have covered his silent rising, of course it is 
 a long way from this to pulling them out In 
 masses like frog spawn in spring, but it bore 
 a color. 
 
232 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 October 22. S. First frost. Tomatoes, 
 beans, nasturtiums, corn, (where any re- 
 mains uncut) wilted down. The same with 
 bindweed, round-top, campion, mallows. 
 Chickweed, wild onion, docks, stand up still. 
 The black-birds (as noted in "Lorna 
 Doone") look large in the morning. On the 
 whole, this is rather late for first frost. It 
 averages early in October. Last year we had 
 one in September, whitening the corn stalks 
 before they were cut, but that was unusual. 
 
 What is called a gravel-pit in England is 
 called a sand-hole here. We have one in the 
 woods, suddenly come upon, a space of light 
 and air, yet curiously dark when you get into 
 it. The bark of the forest roots surrounding 
 it (for roots have bark) hangs its black 
 flaccid strings down the yellow sugary sides 
 of the hole, deprived of the sinew which once 
 filled them. Close by runs a little brook, and 
 the hole is bottomed with shaly rock, proba- 
 bly just above water level. Most of the grav- 
 el varies from brown to yellow, in streaks 
 and shades like a well-grown beard, but now 
 and then occur pockets of black grit, resemb- 
 ling finely ground charcoal. The sand-mar- 
 tin should build here, but that fowl I have 
 never seen. Occasionally when we dig gravel 
 in winter, the long tailed mouse will roll 
 from his hibernation, ruffling his yellow vest, 
 rubbing his white ears with gray paws, and 
 feebly protesting against being wakened. A 
 small cedar at one side which has bent to the 
 cutting away of the soil, straightened up. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 233 
 
 bent again to the ice storm, and again 
 straightened, lives by two slender roots, and 
 furnishes a noble example of perseverance 
 against fortune. 
 
 October 2j. Husking again. The condi- 
 tion of the husks varies greatly. Some are 
 utterly dry, curled and shrivelled away from 
 the ear they once covered. Some are just 
 a little parted at the end, showing the tip. 
 Some still sheath it tenaciously, lapping the 
 spindle-shaped ear like a mackerel's scale, 
 each shuck sharply turned up at the point. 
 And some are still in a mesh of green about 
 the milky stain, red and yellow silk yet in 
 evidence. 
 
 October 2^. A few break from the stalk 
 unsought, most of them husk easily, but now 
 and then one seems almost as strong as the 
 human wrist, and requires great effort to de- 
 tach it. A fairly good ear has 700 to 900 
 kernels; fourteen rows, about sixty to the 
 row. An extra good ear may have a hun- 
 dred kernels to the row, and count up 1500 
 grains or over. 
 
 The king in chess is like a mediaeval mon- 
 arch who was a good swordsman, personally 
 had no head for affairs, and possessed an im- 
 perious wife — say Henry VI. When an en- 
 emy comes within arm's length, he can strike 
 him down; but has no grasp of complex 
 threads. And yet his life is very precious, 
 and on him depends the army's fate. So 
 
234 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 long as Henry was at large, his party made 
 head with varying success; when he was 
 checked In the Tower, all was over. His 
 queen, energetic as she was, became negligi- 
 ble when Isolated. Robert Burton, erudite, 
 desiccate, elaborate, desultory — that Is, If 
 the desultor ever leaped from one elephant 
 to another — belonged. In many ways, to the 
 Dark Ages. His life was In books; yet every 
 one knows how his occasional recreation was 
 to walk down to the river and hear the bar- 
 gees wrangle; just as mathematicians find re- 
 lief from their dry mental labors in antic 
 gambols and hand springs. Two persons 
 could hardly be more unlike than Burton and 
 Ovid; yet there can be little doubt that If the 
 English scholar had not done it, the Latin 
 poet could have written a very complete Ana- 
 toml of Melancholy. 
 
 October 2^. The corn on Farfield last 
 year was much exposed to pilferers, and I 
 expected depredations at roasting ear time. 
 I do not think there were very many; but of 
 one I found traces, when the crop was cut. 
 He had evidently gone into the thickest part 
 of the field where he would not be observed 
 pulled a dozen or more ears, got down on his 
 knees, rolled the ^'tucket" in paper, and car- 
 ried It off. The number of ears he took could 
 readily be counted on the surrounding stalks, 
 the print of both knees was to be seen in the 
 clay soil, and he had left one sheet of paper 
 behind. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 235 
 
 Pirates were probably in their glory about 
 the time the first steamer was built which 
 was to sweep them from the seas; just as 
 stage coaches had reached their greatest ex- 
 cellence when the first dirty blundering loco- 
 motive came on the scene, and as clipper 
 ships made their swiftest voyages when the 
 paddle wheels had been a few years churning 
 the Atlantic. There never were finer swords- 
 men than in the years succeeding the discov- 
 ery of gun-powder, or more pleasure riders 
 than when the motor-car burst upon us. The 
 long bow was never better than when the vile 
 guns began to be used, or plate armor finer 
 than when it would protect no more. When 
 Watt observed the lid of the tea-kettle clat- 
 ter, and Fulton put the tea-kettle in a boat, 
 probably neither ever thought that he was 
 dealing a deadly blow at piracy, but with the 
 steamer came equality of speed, and the 
 necessity for procuring commercial fuel in a 
 business-like way. Gone were the days when 
 it was only necessary to heave down once a 
 year or so in some lonely island, scrape the 
 bottom, fill water-casks and off again; and 
 the last Christian and gentlemanly pirate is 
 said to have died in 1861. 
 
 October 26. Nutters are becoming quite 
 numerous, and as the corn-field is not in 
 sight, they have things much their own way. 
 The big hollow chestnut tree, twenty feet in 
 circumference, their special point of attack, 
 has been twice set on fire, the first time, a 
 
236 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 good many years ago, by an Idle boy. The 
 flames got a start on that occasion, and It 
 was several hours before I could extinguish 
 them by banking up the hole in the tree with 
 earth. The other time It was done by some 
 fellows who said they wanted to see what 
 was inside. 
 
 October 27. The full-blown gunner does 
 not yet appear, but men with dogs now and 
 then pass along the roads, and hie the 
 hounds Into fields that look promising, be- 
 coming violently abusive when bidden to de- 
 sist. Unconsciously to themselves, they 
 probably feel that they combine Squire Wes- 
 tern and Robin Hood; though they quite 
 lack either the position of the one or the 
 picturesqueness of the other. 
 
 Macaulay holds that the pastoral races 
 are best fitted for war, the agricultural next, 
 the mechanic townsman least. Certainly the 
 farmer Is used to weather, enduring of toil, 
 handy at expedients; but some say that in 
 our Civil War the city men did best. How- 
 ever, this may have been because one so sel- 
 dom sees a young man on a farm. Black- 
 stone defines a yeoman as one who pays for- 
 ty shillings rent annually; and Chaucer's 
 "yeoman" were all in readiness for battle. 
 They trained down, or up, into the yeo- 
 manry KIngsley describes as putting down 
 the rioters in "Alton Locke"; but apparently 
 neither of them went out of the country. Con- 
 scripts for domestic strife, volunteers for 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 237 
 
 foreign service. Probably the greatest wars 
 have been those engaged In by the fewest 
 persons. The ceaseless and fruitless strife 
 of the Highland clans was like the grinding 
 of the pebbles on a beach; the great cam- 
 paigns of conquest or defense like a few 
 stones projected from a catapult. Marathon 
 was won by a mere handful; the Paraguayan 
 contests, wherein children of ten or twelve 
 took part, never accomplished anything. 
 
 October 28. The beggar-weed Is now get- 
 ting dry and brown and Its pronged seeds 
 part readily from the boll. One's sleeves 
 and legs are fringed with them. (Why is 
 there not some name for the lower part of 
 trousers or the upper part of stockings in- 
 stead of the weak designation "legs", which 
 belongs to the limbs they cover?) 
 
 Stone breaking is of modern date. The 
 ancients cut stones, built them up, laid them 
 down, turned them round, everything, ap- 
 parently, except breaking them up small. 
 That was left for us. Macadam's discovery, 
 that broken stone would pack, set thousands 
 of hammers going. Everyone knows how he 
 thought the stones must all be of like size, 
 how the laborers were provided with 2J/2 
 Inch rings for measurement, how the loss of 
 the rings resulted in their putting the stones 
 in their mouths, and how one laborer sur- 
 passed all the others until It was found he 
 had no teeth. It was long before the stone 
 road gained favor in this country; one's sub- 
 
238 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 stitutes were the corduroy and the plank. The 
 first probably combined the minimum of la- 
 bor (for the builder) with the maximum of 
 discomfort (for the traveller) the latter, 
 though perishable, were comfortable. I 
 have seen an old wooden bridge where the 
 heavier planks were laid crosswise, as usual, 
 and then covered with light lengthway 
 boards. Passage over this was exquisitely 
 luxurious, like travelling on air; or at least it 
 seemed so before the days of pneumatic tires. 
 Perhaps the nadir of odopoesm was reached 
 in 1870, when, as I have been told by a resi- 
 dent, the roads out of Chicago were made of 
 stable manure, which endured about six 
 weeks. 
 
 October 2g. S. The second frost has fallen. 
 In the calm morning the leaves drop cease- 
 lessly from the cherry trees, and the switches 
 from the coffee tree, ticking on the branches 
 as they come through them, and forming a 
 carpet all around the stem, as large as the 
 spread of the boughs. 
 
 ''Come caduno le foglie, 
 L'uno sul altro, quando oramo 
 Rende alia terra tutte le sue spoglle, 
 Similimente il mal seme d'Adamo". 
 
 The union of a man and horse makes a 
 horseman, the union of a man and a spear a 
 spearman, etc., the less always preceding 
 and qualifying the greater. Why then, should 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 239 
 
 not the union of soul and body make a body- 
 soul? Would that be equivalent to an in- 
 dividuality? And if so, was it merely the 
 Emperor Hadrian's individuality which ad- 
 dressed "Animula, vagula, blandula" a per- 
 sonality which would cease with animula's 
 flight, the three becoming two again? The 
 Scripture seems to countenance this "What 
 shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" 
 As if the soul were something different and 
 separate from the man, even more under his 
 control than the body. Hadrian did not ask 
 what would become of his body; he knew 
 that very well; but it was not he. ''He" 
 would only have been in a position to make 
 the inquiry before the separation. After, he 
 the personating, would only have been like 
 an aeronaut clinging to that perishable para- 
 chute, the body, which must of necessity soon 
 come to earth, and watching the balloon, An- 
 imula sail away into the clouds, he knew not 
 where. 
 
 October jo. The tide comes up to the 
 dam of Weston's pond, only about half a 
 mile from this place; and perhaps before the 
 dam was built, at very high spring tides, the 
 rise may have been felt even as far as our 
 woods. No one within reach of these salty 
 fingers can call himself land-locked. 
 
 Andrea del Sarto said that a man's reach 
 should exceed his grasp — the moderns say 
 "don't bite off more than you can chaw", 
 which is right? Perhaps they might both be 
 
240 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 combined Into the statement that a man's 
 reach should exceed the grasp of things on 
 him. A man's occupation should Immerge 
 him, but never submerge; he ought to stand 
 head and shoulders above It, distinctively the 
 man, however trifling, he, however, great his 
 profession. Herbert was not the mere par- 
 son, or Curran the mere lawyer, or Holmes 
 the mere doctor, or Hans Sachs the mere 
 cobbler. These were all literary men, you 
 say, by that alone distinguished? Turn It 
 about; Cervantes, and Sidney, and Dr. John- 
 son were not mere men of letters. The role 
 of the dissolving lump of sugar unbefits any 
 man; on him may that most fatal judgment 
 be passed, "He Is very well In his way" show- 
 ing that his way has consumed him, like the 
 snail. Better gather on your path, like the 
 snowball, or, to reverse the metaphor, be 
 like the quassia cup, which will give a hun- 
 dred draughts without dilution or diminu- 
 tion. 
 
 October j/. In driving through the coun- 
 try thirty years ago, at this season, the thun- 
 der of flails could be constantly heard on the 
 air, now loudly, then faintly as If the storms 
 of summer had retreated to a last hiding 
 place In the barns and were growling out 
 their time of Imprisonment. That sound has 
 echoed through the autumn for thousands of 
 years, but In all probability It will never be 
 heard again; the machine has done for it. 
 
 November i. Began ploughing the corn 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 241 
 
 stubble. Husking is not yet over, but that 
 can be done on frozen ground, and plough- 
 ing cannot. We have cleared the stalks from 
 the three corner, and V. began there today. 
 "The farmer meaning to have spring again," 
 as Miss Austin says. 
 
 A man came to buy some stalks, drawing 
 them himself from the field. As this saves 
 carting them in, we sell them under such cir- 
 cumstances, for two cents a bundle. He ar- 
 rived about ten a. m. with a one-horse wag- 
 on, and his wife to help him load (they were 
 Germans, it is needless to say) and about 
 eleven had them on. The load was too much 
 for the horse in the field, and two of us went 
 down to help along. With persuasive 
 thwacks and hard pushing the wagon was 
 got nearly out of the field, when the horse 
 ran one of the deep-sunk wheels against a 
 corn butt, and there stuck. Shovels were 
 then procured, the butt, and several others in 
 line, dug away, and another start made. This 
 brought the wagon to our front fence, where 
 not taking the opening squarely enough, it 
 stuck between the tall gate posts. More 
 struggles ensued, but the wagon could not be 
 got through till half the load was thrown 
 off. He and his wife came back for it later, 
 and gathered all up to the last shred, even 
 making up the loose blades into little bundles 
 and pushing them under the load. Great is 
 German thrift. 
 
 November 2. Still at the husking. We 
 
242 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 are well up the field now, In the poorest of 
 the crop. The stooks turn out little more 
 than half a bushel apiece, and the stalks 
 amount to but two bunches apiece. This is 
 the land that had tumbled down to red-top, 
 the poorest of all sods to turn under. 
 
 A dry Fall is not only disastrous, but un- 
 natural. It seems as if Nature ought to have 
 her face well washed before she went to 
 sleep. Winter, too, always appears to hang 
 back until there has been considerable pre- 
 cipitation, and, unpleasant as he is, one 
 wishes to have him get at work. The leaf 
 that falls by drought ere it is time for it to 
 fall by frost never seems to have had its 
 chance. It is incongruous to see the bed of a 
 stream frozen before there is water enough 
 to come down it. Dust flying from Decem- 
 ber roads seems much more noisome 
 than dust in June; and dust on ice or snow is 
 most inharmonious of all. One goes crash- 
 ing noisily through the woods over the dry 
 leaves, and all the tree stems look white in- 
 stead of black. The fence posts stand forth 
 bleakly, and the splintered rail ends sing in 
 the wind. The crows are blown from their 
 course, and the belated grasshopper or toad 
 looks dusty. Sounds are less than they should 
 be, and views are greater. The wheat stands 
 up in little yellow spires, and the grass be- 
 tween it is almost invisible. Moss can scarce- 
 ly be found, and mould Is not found at all. 
 The well chains have to be lengthened, and 
 the cistern goes dry. The gunners start fires, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 243 
 
 and the clouds have no edges. 
 
 November 5. The sweetness of the maize 
 sap is well known. In the well-dried state, 
 this remains as a slight sugary taste through- 
 out. Where the corn is cut too soon, or 
 stowed away too green, it generally moulds. 
 But now and then one finds a stalk in the 
 mow with a decided alcoholic flavor. It has 
 been cut green, and its situation has been just 
 warm enough for fermentation, just dry 
 enough for preservation. 
 
 Great is the distress of the farmer who 
 has to buy anything he might have raised. 
 Purchase of salt he does not mind at all; 
 that of sugar touches him a little, for honey 
 might be his, and maple sap. Flour and meat 
 are worse, vegetables and fruits still worse; 
 grain for stock, very bad; hay, well nigh in- 
 tolerable. It is many and many a year since 
 I had to buy hay; but well do I remember 
 the mortification accompanying. In nearly 
 forty years we have only had to buy milk for 
 about four months, say, one eightieth of the 
 time. The man who can raise everything, 
 literally, that he uses — food, clothes, shelter, 
 fencing, tools — must be happy indeed; per- 
 haps not so his wife. Next to this came the 
 actual rustic of a hundred years back, who 
 really raised all he needed except a little iron, 
 a little salt, sugar, and tea, and an occasional 
 suit of store clothes. From him we come 
 slowly down to the present-day farmer, who 
 is constantly being solicited to buy more, and 
 
244 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 more, and more, and finds that he can sell 
 less, and less, and less, either through fail- 
 ure of soil, crops, or market. Of course this 
 does not make him happy; while his wife 
 should be so, but is not, as long as he Is a 
 farmer at all. 
 
 November 4. Found a fire stone in the 
 field today. Slightly larger than an egg, but 
 of oblong shape, it just fits the left hand, 
 and on the lower side is a hole about an inch 
 deep the size of one's finger. How many 
 times dusky palms may have held this on the 
 upper end of a stick, revolving the latter 
 with a bow and bearing heavily down, until 
 sparks leaped from the lower end, and once 
 more fire was born into the world. 
 
 Everyone has his "Choir Invisible." To 
 some it is a trumpet call; to som€ a lullaby, 
 to some a threatening discord. The student 
 has one, and the soldier, and the sailor. The 
 saint has his army of martyrs; the statesman, 
 Hampden and Washington. Sometimes it 
 calls us on, anon it warns us back. It may 
 incite us to heroic effort, or lay on us burdens 
 far beyond our capacities. Happy is he who 
 can listen to it with discretion, not enchanted, 
 or bewildered, or flattered, or cast down. 
 Sometimes it were best to stop one's ears; 
 not all can distinguish between the ancient 
 and modern siren. It may be the anvil chor- 
 us, and agree best with work; it may only 
 combine with calm and leisure. In youth it 
 is before us; in maturity, above, in old age, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 245 
 
 behind. He who survives to fourscore may 
 hear the contemporaries of his youth cry to 
 him from the fiftieth milestone "What hast 
 thou done with thy thirty years beyond uj 
 who fell by the way?" 
 
 November 5. S. Perhaps female stenog- 
 raphers are sometimes engaged on the same 
 principle by which Louis XI used to choose 
 his councillors from low born men; they 
 were little likely to become rivals. 
 
 Haggard tells a tale of a lady, who, being 
 on his farm at the time of wheat harvest, 
 asked what he did with the wheat. "We 
 make it Into bread", said he. "Do you mean 
 to say", she exclaimed, "that it is made of 
 those little hard things? I always thought 
 bread was made out of that dust you see in 
 flowers", by which, probably, she meant the 
 pollen. "It Is but fair to say", adds Hag- 
 gard, "that of late she repudiates the tale 
 in toto". It Is not long since, being at the 
 seaside, I heard an aquatic speech which 
 might match this agricultural one. The bath- 
 ing ropes had just been braced into position, 
 and, at the outer end were already tangled 
 with seaweed. A lady guest was expressing 
 her dissatisfaction with this state of things. 
 "I don't see," said she, "why they didn't put 
 the slimy weedy part up here, and the dry 
 part out in the water". 
 
 Another, getting aboard a boat, dropped 
 her overshoe Into the water. "Did it sink", 
 asked some one. "I don't know", said she. 
 
246 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 "Is it heavy things or Hght things that sink?" 
 
 November 6. A rainy morning held up 
 husking again. Shifted more hay and 
 ploughed. The corn butts are a great obsta- 
 cle to this; one the English farmer never 
 dreamed of. Now and then the plough hits 
 a clump so fairly as to split and scatter it; 
 but many of them remain like three-legged 
 stools half buried in the earth. I have 
 known small farmers who spent much time 
 harrowing, beating out, and carting away 
 the corn butts. No doubt, however, this re- 
 moves a good deal of vegetable humus. 
 
 Steering a plow is very like steering a 
 boat. The tyro holds stilts or tiller with 
 both hands, heaving the tool right and left, 
 yawing the boat painfully; the adept can do 
 It with finger and thumb. Shaving a stone or 
 stump so closely as to break the ribbon of 
 sod without touching the obstacle it encircles 
 is analogous to dragging the drift from a 
 channel-stake in water. The stones are like 
 waves when beating up to the wind; you can 
 stand one, a second will generally throw you 
 out. Splitting a corn butt in your way is good 
 practice, and so is running down a floating 
 apple or bottle. Throwing the long strip of 
 grass, five inches by five hundred feet, which 
 remains on finishing a dead furrow — send- 
 ing this all over, cleanly inverted, without 
 once losing the plow's grip on it or the earth 
 from which you tear it, resembles squeezing 
 a close hauled boat by a point. Landside is 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 247 
 
 center-board, mold-board Is wale-streak. 
 And as it is possible, at the last, to send the 
 boat by under a pilot's luff — that is, to throw 
 her up in the wind and make the last few 
 yards under headway, so may the plowman, 
 at the furrow-end, when his team is pulling 
 hopelessly round to the left, throw his plow 
 flat on landside and toss the end of sod al- 
 most into the air, yet lay it in place. 
 
 November 7. Got another man, husked 
 with great energy, and turned out fifty-one 
 bushels e^ars. The work is now telling on 
 our hands, which are badly scored and 
 cracked. Hamlin Garland has much to say 
 of this and other sufferings of the farmer. I 
 know no one who writes so understandingly 
 and bitterly of agricultural labor. 
 
 He speaks of carrying pails of water from 
 the well, staggering beneath the load and 
 splashing one's feet, as if it was like the 
 water torture; of the cracking of one's hands 
 mentioned above, as resembling the thumb- 
 screw; and one would suppose that only the 
 rack was comparable to the binding and 
 pitching of grain. 
 
 The farmer is not alone in his necessity 
 for hard manual labor; and If all men re- 
 garded labor as Garland seems to do, the 
 earth would be an Inferno. The Ebal of 
 toil Is always balanced In this world by the 
 Gerlzim of Its reward — repose, If nothing 
 more. But, Garland, following Scripture it 
 must be admitted, sits always in Ebal; and 
 
248 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 his fulmlnations therefrom are lamentable 
 to hear. He gives the Impression of a fee- 
 ble, sickly boy, who for years had been driv- 
 en to uncongenial and unpaid toil by blows 
 and threats, and had escaped therefrom as 
 soon as he was able. He never makes mis- 
 takes in his bucolic descriptions ; but he lacks 
 that breadth and geniality which might cause 
 even mistakes to be endured. 
 
 November 8. Finished husking. The 
 last few stocks were very large, and the corn 
 being shucked in great haste, and, flung at 
 random on the ground, was hard to find and 
 gather up in the dark. Indeed, some had to 
 be left till next day. Four hundred and six- 
 ty-two bushels of ears (soft and hard) is not 
 a very good crop, but the best that field has 
 borne for many a year. A little over a bush- 
 el to the stook. 
 
 The crawfish or crayfish is a small white 
 lobster found in the bed of gravelly streams 
 or springs, for he does not affect deep or 
 swift water. The newt is the next step up- 
 ward from him to drought, the frog the next 
 step downward. His jaws, though diminu- 
 tive, are so exactly In shape like those of his 
 big brother of the ocean that even the slight 
 pinch they give inspires terror. What he 
 feeds upon I know not; his sole desire, ap- 
 parently, to bury himself deeper, and yet 
 deeper in the gravel. The bull-frog I have 
 twice or thrice seen, but he is not abundant. 
 One spring, in opening out a drain, I threw 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 249 
 
 out two bull-frogs and a snake. The rat, 
 muskrat, mouse, mole and toad are also fond 
 of these underground habitations, which are 
 probably of very equal temperature, though 
 subject to great variations as respects dry- 
 ness and dampness. Still, when the onrush 
 of water comes with the falling rain, some of 
 these gentry are capable of withstanding it 
 so resolutely as not only to stop the flood; 
 but cause the water to burst out of the earth 
 where they abide, and run along on the top 
 of the ground. 
 
 November g. Carted in stalks. On the 
 whole they are in very good condition, well 
 cured; and not so dry as to break up like 
 brush. I have seen the amazing statement 
 in an old British Encyclopaedia, that in 
 America corn stalks are sometimes made in- 
 to fences, a use for which they are as little 
 fitted as anything possibly could be. Though 
 the stalk is so strong and sturdy for the time, 
 it has none of the qualities of the bamboo, 
 and soon breaks up when exposed to weather. 
 The encyclopaedia responsible for this state- 
 ment also gave what purported to be a pic- 
 ture of the maize plant, showing a large 
 plump ear growing on the top of the stalk, 
 like a head of wheat, as if the thin last joint 
 of maize would be able to hold it up for a 
 moment. The artist probably drew the ear 
 of corn from life, but neglected to discover 
 what position it took on the stalk, and could 
 think of no other than the one he represent- 
 
250 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 ed. I do not know that I ever saw so glar- 
 ing a mistake. Cornstalks would not even 
 do to weave into the hurdle, so much used 
 in England. It has been said that whatever 
 grows in a summer will rot in a winter; but 
 perhaps reeds and rushes are the stoutest an- 
 nuals. When not cut or burnt off, they may 
 be seen standing the second summer, and 
 sometimes the third, among the new growth. 
 Pokeweed and asparagus stems are also 
 quite durable, in their ways. Still, frost and 
 warmth succeeding will do for almost any- 
 thing. 
 
 November lO. Finished getting in stalks. 
 The gunning season begins to-day, and in 
 spite of abundant notices, two squirrels were 
 shot in our door yard. 
 
 How feeble were the savage weapons ! 
 The arrow-heads seem as if they could never 
 hurt, unless they hit you in the face; the 
 stone axes, as if they would cut down the 
 tree no sooner than a hammer; the spears, as 
 if a thick coat would stop them. I once broke 
 an axe at the eye, leaving only the bright 
 thin lower part of the blade, and I could not 
 but think what a treasure this would have 
 been to any Mohawk or Huron of ye olden 
 time; how he would have treasured and ad- 
 mired, perhaps even worshipped the keen 
 shining bit of steel with which he could, on 
 occasion, cut his finger, in which he could, on 
 occasion, see his face; how the fame of it 
 would have spread abroad among his foes, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 251 
 
 and plots would be laid to deprive him of it. 
 Most natives have done best, and first, with 
 their weapons of war; in these they shone, 
 while the tools of peace languished. But 
 the aborigine of this country has left us two 
 legacies, the birch canoe and the snowshoe, 
 both peaceful, while all his warlike furni- 
 ture is utterly inadequate. 
 
 November 11. Pulled beets yesterday, 
 and carrots today. The former were a very 
 small crop. Since we have adopted the prac- 
 tise of twisting off the tops by hand, instead 
 of cutting them off with knives, they have 
 kept a great deal better, scarcely lost a bush- 
 el last year. 
 
 Harvesting beets is work that can be done 
 very rapidly. In about four hours, another 
 man and myself pulled and piled 75 bushels 
 of beets. They have also to be covered with 
 the green tops as far as they will go, supple- 
 mented by weeds and grass, and then after a 
 few days' sweating, conveyed into the cellar. 
 The biggest beet we ever had was two feet 
 long and about as much around, and weighed 
 near fifteen pounds. Two like this would fill 
 a basket; but of course there are not many 
 such. The carrots are hard to get out. Un- 
 less the ground is unusually soft, they cannot 
 be pulled singly by the tops, and must be 
 helped out with a fork, which is slow and 
 dirty work. Parsnips are hardest of all, as 
 they grow on a level with, or almost beneath 
 the ground, and about half of them is gen- 
 
252 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 erally left behind. With the housing of the 
 roots and the stalks, Summer, for farm 
 work, ends, and silver dollars must console 
 one for golden suns. One looks forward to 
 the cessation of labor, at least of urgent and 
 imperative labor; but when it comes, the 
 weather Is too sharp to enjoy it. 
 
 November 12. S. By whom were the 
 world's four great poems written? A blind 
 beggar, a banished mayor, a prosperous ac- 
 tor, a German privy-councillor. And none of 
 these poets were great travellers. Homer 
 could hardly have got much beyond the Gre- 
 cian archipelago, possibly to Sicily and Asia 
 Minor. Dante is thought to have been in 
 England, certainly in France; but spent most 
 of his life In Northern Italy. Shakespeare 
 was never, so far as appears, out of England. 
 Goethe only saw Germany and Italy. Yet 
 these four would compare most favorably 
 with Longfellow, with his two years' Euro- 
 pean travel; Browning and Landor, with 
 their long sojourns in Italy and Spain, and 
 Lowell, the foreign minister. Their gallops 
 round the rim of their brains are better than 
 the ride to Khiva; they circumnavigated the 
 world before Magellan, and discovered 
 more than Columbus. Which ever way they 
 led was the van; truth was theirs, if not ver- 
 acity and wisdom, if not knowledge. They 
 climbed towers which showed all the king- 
 doms of the world. Weimar was higher than 
 Eiffel, Smyrna than the Pyramids. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 253 
 
 November /j. Gunners this morning 
 shot a rabbit close to K's house, and then 
 went down along the edge of our place, send- 
 ing the dogs in to start up game. When I ob- 
 jected to this they inquired if I was lookin' 
 for trouble, and assured me that I had only 
 lived on the place a year. Earlier in the day 
 I heard two shots near W.'s barn, and then 
 a voice, articulate though afar, crying "Gim- 
 me that rabbit; I say, gimme that rabbit". 
 
 Someone, Reade, I think has said of the 
 agricultural laborer that if, at the end of his 
 life, all the work he has done were put into 
 one heap, and all the pay he had received for 
 it put into another, the former would be im- 
 mense, the latter pitifully small. Probably 
 this is more or less the case with all farming 
 receipts — 25 to 50 cents a day, for the 300 
 working days of the year, is as much as can 
 be expected. Of course one has one's living, 
 or a part of It, besides: milk, eggs, vegeta- 
 bles, fruit, a little meat, also one lives on the 
 place. But then come in Interest and taxes, 
 in those days enormous. On the whole, per- 
 haps it was never Intended that any money 
 should be made out of farming; Indeed, the 
 farmer, if you push him home, was original- 
 ly an intermediary, a middleman, an exploit- 
 er; farming of taxes shows this. The true 
 man of earth Is the Bauer, the peasant; he It 
 Is, or was, if he has not perished, who got 
 his clothes, his food, his drink, his shelter, 
 his all, from the soil; who paid taxes in kind, 
 who never had a coin, or a care, or a 
 
254 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 thought; who knew 
 
 "Nought loftier than the village spire, 
 Nought mightier than the village squire". 
 
 November i^. Sharply cold, causing 
 fears for the potatoes In barn. I got some of 
 them In, and the weather moderated In after- 
 noon. I know nothing that gives one, agri- 
 culturally, such a sense of wasted oppor- 
 tunities as a sudden frost before vegetables 
 are housed. 
 
 The crust of frozen earth Is the callous 
 formed by Winter's attrition. Our delicate 
 sense of touch with the great mother Is 
 blunted when that has formed. You can dig 
 no worms thereafter. Edible roots break 
 off In It, unedlble hold It down. Above Is the 
 ^'wrinkled clod as hard as brick"; below, the 
 kindly brown soil. The first colonists, when 
 they had occasion to bury their dead In froz- 
 en soil, were constrained to cut a hole In the 
 crust with their swords, and then pry up the 
 earth slabs with boughs before they could 
 open the grave. I have seen children build 
 houses and walls of slabs thus set up; but 
 they collapsed under the rising sun almost as 
 quickly, and much more filthily, than the 
 snow Igloo. The crust will rise around and 
 above all but the smallest stones, leaving 
 them loose but unattainable, moving In their 
 hollow like a joint In Its socket, but impossi- 
 ble to pick up. Later on, when the frost 
 goes deep, the stones rise with It. Seven de- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 255 
 
 grees below freezing point, as a rule, will en- 
 rind the earth so as to put a stop to plowing; 
 above that the plates can be pushed aside. 
 
 November 75. Drew several loads of 
 stone from an old heap. The lower ones 
 quite sink in the ground, as if the earth had 
 grown up among them. I suppose this comes 
 partly from the weight of the heap sinking 
 the lower ones when the ground is soft, but 
 more from dust and leaves, settling in the 
 cracks of the mass, gradually forming mold. 
 
 One of the ways in which a farmer could 
 turn an honest penny thirty years ago, was 
 by gathering up the "hard-heads" or small 
 boulders — mostly about the size of a child's 
 head — from off his fields in time of leisure, 
 depositing them in convenient heaps, and 
 then selling them to the town to pave the 
 streets thereof. As our town Is mostly built 
 on the red shale, containing no round stone, 
 and as many farms within a mile or two con- 
 tain abundance of such stone. It was a clear 
 case of demand and supply; and many a 
 quarter has many a farmer pocketed for half 
 a day's picking up and carting; while it Is not 
 impossible that he might at times have recog- 
 nized one of his own native stones embedded 
 in the town street. But time went on, the 
 city became too fine for cobblestones; Bel- 
 gian block, asphaltum, brick, reared their 
 horrid heads. "Spend the money, don't be 
 mean", was the motto; the old stonen ways 
 were torn up, and their components cast, lit- 
 
256 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 erally, to the moles and the bats; and soon 
 he who would see how cobblestones looked 
 must go to the old pictures. 
 
 November i6. ''While as I walked 
 abroad upon the field 
 
 To see the ploughman turn the heavy leaves 
 Of that dark book which summer lately 
 writ". 
 
 Macbeth is of all the great dramatists' 
 characters the one whose development most 
 interests. This has two causes — one being 
 that the play covers a longer time than the 
 average — the other, that, almost alone of 
 Shakespeare's dramas, it contains no love 
 story, merely a record of crimes prompted 
 by ambition, and the ambition of a childless 
 pair at that. All the world loves a lover, 
 though with unrequited affection; and one 
 cause, among many, of Shakespeare's popu- 
 larity may be the extraordinary high quality 
 of his lovers. Many a writer has drawn 
 charming girls who could not construct fit 
 mates for them. But gentle William's men 
 are, if anything finer than his heroines. Of 
 course, they vary. Bertram is mean and 
 faithless; Claudio cowardly; Petruchio a tri- 
 fle coarse. But Ferdinand and Lorenzo have 
 a grand flow of language, while Romeo, Ben- 
 edick, Valentine, Orlando, Demetrius, are 
 suitors of whom any girl might be proud. 
 Cordelia's partner measures up well in the 
 little we see of him, while Hamlet, though 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 257 
 
 rough and arrogant of language, had natur- 
 ally a fine nature and a pretty wit, and was 
 constrained, by the heavy task he thought 
 laid on him, to use forcible expressions in 
 order to sustain his madness — or his sanity. 
 There may be observed in Tennyson's 
 lovers a great disinclination to come to the 
 point, and a desire to throw the burden on 
 the lady. Such is the line for a "Princess" 
 to follow, perhaps; but Maud's lover (name 
 not given) after a vague scene in the rosy 
 west, instead of calling manfully on her, 
 idles about the garden, waiting for her to 
 come his way. Walter gets the Talking Oak 
 to blab everything he has heard Olivia say, 
 until he feels secure enough to arrange about 
 her wedding ornaments. "Cousin" in Loch- 
 sley Hall, (name not given again) holds the 
 following language : — 
 
 "Then I said 'My cousin Amy, speak, and 
 speak the truth to me : 
 Trust me, cousin, all the current of my be- 
 ing turns to thee' ". 
 
 On which Amy utters an avowal clear and 
 impassioned as heart could wish. Even the 
 Lord of Burleigh, untrammeled by inferior- 
 ity of rank, like some of the gentlemen men- 
 tioned above, must needs whisper gaily in 
 her ear — 
 
 "Maiden, I have watched thee daily. 
 And I think thou lovest me well". 
 
258 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 On hearing which assertion, the maiden re- 
 turns a reply very Hke Amy's. Certainly the 
 plan seems to have worked well; but as cer- 
 tainly Tennyson's enamored youth lack fire. 
 
 November ij. Getting pumpkins in cel- 
 lar. These last feel the frost more than any 
 other crop, collapsing under it like mush- 
 rooms. It is curious to see them in the field 
 during October, how the dark green they 
 wear in September changes, first in spots and 
 streaks, then in a uniform yellow glory, like 
 summer following spring over the globe. 
 Pursued two gunners on the wheat-field, who 
 fled incontinently. 
 
 While the horse, and every other animal 
 with perhaps one exception, has various gaits, 
 to suit various degrees of speed, man and 
 his works have but one. The biped's run is 
 but a fast walk; his walk a slow run. The 
 skip, the hop, the jump, are but brief vari- 
 ants and can never be kept up for any length 
 of time. Perhaps dancing is but an attempt 
 on our part to imitate the rhythmic grace of 
 the quadruped's bounds. The oar, the screw, 
 the paddle, the wheel, can only move faster 
 or slower; they cannot alter the manner of 
 their stroke or revolution, the sole excep- 
 tion made, perhaps, of a sailor sculling a 
 boat with a single oar over the stern. The 
 exception among animals, noted above, is 
 the elephant. His gait has been described 
 as neither a walk, trot, nor gallop, but a sort 
 of shuffle, increased or diminished in rapidity 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 259 
 
 according to circumstances. As Kipling says 
 "If an elephant wished to catch a railway 
 train, he could not gallop, but he could catch 
 the train". Thus does man's latest invention 
 join hands with the sole surivor of the ante- 
 diluvian monsters; for the automobile also 
 cannot gallop, but it can catch a train. 
 
 The wild horse has two natural gaits; the 
 gallop and the walk. The canter is a slow 
 gallop, the "rack" a fast walk. The trot is 
 a purely artificial or perhaps one should 
 rather say, artful, mode of progress, never 
 indulged in by the untamed horse, seldom 
 even by the tamed one, when at liberty. In 
 this alone has the mare surpassed the horse, 
 as a woman can surpass a man at dancing. All 
 the other records of speed and endurance 
 have been made by stallions. The "rack" 
 is a step with the two feet on the same side 
 at the same time, and very awkward to view 
 head on. A racker, coming directly toward 
 you, looks as if he would tear himself to 
 pieces. Yet It cannot be as distressing as It 
 looks, for the racker has beaten the trotter. 
 It Is also undesirable for a saddler. One 
 can rise to the trot, but not to the rack. But 
 It so much resembles in appearance the pace, 
 amble, single-foot, etc., that a racker Is fre- 
 quently opined to be a good riding animal. 
 Another reason for supposing this gait to be 
 an easy one for the beast, though not for 
 man, is that old horses who can do It at all 
 fall more and more into the habit with ad- 
 vancing years, as though It combined better 
 
26o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 with stiff muscles and shaky joints. 
 
 November i8. Turned out horse radish 
 for K. This is hard work on man and team. 
 One drives, another holds, and the horses 
 have to stop and breathe at the end of each 
 row. The roots burst before the share with 
 a noise almost like cleaving wood and, 
 turned out high on one side, have to be at 
 once dragged away, to make room for the 
 next furrow. 
 
 How slight a thing may make the differ- 
 ence between an unblemished and a tarn- 
 ished record. Nearly forty years ago, I was 
 in our town near the police station, when a 
 man passed along with a load of turnips — 
 swedes, or rutabagas, perhaps twenty bush- 
 els in the load. He was followed by a crowd 
 of urchins, hanging on the back of his wag- 
 on, and crying "Mister, gimme a turnip; 
 gimme a turnip!" Becoming irritated by 
 their clamor, he at length turned, snatched 
 up one of the roots, and flung it with great 
 force into the crowd of boys. The turnip 
 did not strike any of them, but rebounded 
 from the pavement, and flew upward at the 
 station window. A look of horror crossed 
 the faces of both man and boys as they 
 watched its course. Full on the window it 
 struck, but, luckily, on the sash-bar, not on 
 the glass. It fell back, and was picked up 
 in a moment. No notice was taken by the 
 "ever vigilant," and the farmer drove on, 
 evidently much relieved. The smallest dif- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 261 
 
 ference In the course of the projectile would 
 have smashed the window, and most likely 
 caused his arrest; and whereas his record 
 has ever since been a good one, that might to 
 him have been the beginning of a political 
 career. 
 
 November ig. S. Walking In woods, 
 found a stone bridge which I made over a 
 brook some years ago — sides of heavy bould- 
 ers, roadway of small and broken stone, — 
 had been pried up and scattered with a rail, 
 presumably by marauders In search of game. 
 
 A dun Is a town. First signifying a hill of 
 varying size, from the diminutive sand-dune 
 to the greact swelling Downs, the name soon 
 merged Into that of the dwelling, or group 
 of dwellings generally placed on a hill. And 
 without absolutely certifying to the etymo- 
 logical accuracy, of all the words concerned, 
 it is curious that almost every noun In the 
 language, and some other languages, formed 
 of those four letters, vowels along being 
 changed, and their derivatives, signifies eith- 
 er giving or receiving, like cup and ball, gen- 
 erally violently. Dun, or dune, as above 
 stated, is a hill; Don Is a prominent noble; 
 din is a rising and assailing sound. On the 
 other hand, a den is a hollow place, as 
 though made by the Impact of the dune. A 
 dent, or dint, Is a smaller recession In a hard 
 surface, produced by a blow, don't Is one of 
 the most shrewd nobby words in the lan- 
 guage; done belongs to the closing of a bar- 
 
262 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 gain, by the party given in, or taken in. 
 Dunt is Scotch for the nich in a place above 
 mentioned; dent is French for tooth, as- 
 suredly a hard and prominent object; to 
 daunt, or dant (O. E.) is to terrify into with- 
 drawal; lastly, though down, the noun, sig- 
 nifies a rising, down, the preposition, signi- 
 fies exactly the reverse. 
 
 November 20. Continued ploughing. 
 Scattered a party of seven gunners, crossing 
 the fields in defiance of all signs. Some of 
 them turned back at my call, others kept on. 
 Another recent trespasser, on being halted, 
 inquired generally "What kind of a fellow 
 that was, who would not let a man who 
 worked in a factory all the week go out to 
 shoot a rabbit?" This gentleman, and others 
 like-minded with him, would do well to re- 
 member that those same factories bear signs 
 "No admittance except on business," and 
 that the stranger who should stroll through 
 them, appropriating any trifles that pleased 
 his fancy, would be thrown out in short or- 
 der. 
 
 Many years ago, on a fair June evening, 
 when the days were at their clearest and 
 longest, I saw a small white cloud suddenly 
 appear in the west just after the sun went 
 down. It was two or three times the sun's 
 apparent diameter and came out on the sky 
 in an instant, like the puff of smoke produced 
 by the explosion of a shell. There was no 
 sound audible, either at its appearance, or 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 263 
 
 afterward. It endured about ten minutes, 
 and then slowly faded out. By night, it would 
 undoubtedly have been a magnificent meteor 
 perhaps even an hour later. 
 
 Frost does not "fall" on cloudy nights. 
 The cloud acts like a blanket, and keeps the 
 earth warm. And yet the frost itself is like 
 a blanket, and a tree, a house, a bush, a pile 
 of wood, even a few posts, will keep it up 
 from the earth as if it hung bagging between 
 them, and thus kept from crushing the low 
 and tender vegetables. Weeds will keep it 
 oft the grass, and grass will keep it off the 
 ground, and hair will keep it from an ani- 
 mal's hide, and a beard will keep it from 
 one's face. The frost must be very severe 
 for these last defenses to show as defenses, 
 but I have seen and felt it. One may even 
 sweat beneath and freeze without, at once. 
 
 November 21. Legal reference to the ap- 
 proaching trolley lately caused me to liken 
 the two farms, one on each side the highway, 
 to Rachel and Leah. The former and fair- 
 er, to the south; the latter and stronger, to 
 the north. And we can well imagine Jacob, 
 if in danger of losing Rachel, through the 
 might of some irresistible potentate, trying 
 to turn his mind from thoughts of her beau- 
 ty and grace to contemplation of Leah's 
 solid worth. 
 
 "Men and women", one says, "have prob- 
 ably looked much the same to each other in 
 all periods". This may be doubted. Did an 
 
264 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Australian "gin" or a Dakota squaw look to 
 her male contemporaries as Mrs. Langtry 
 looked to her male contemporaries? Do all 
 persons see all other persons of different sex 
 on the same level with them exactly alike? 
 Do fashions, and manners, and customs, and 
 faiths make no difference? Do our hands 
 clasp like Mark Antony's, and has only the 
 glove's fashion changed? Men and women 
 know very little about each other; Granted; 
 but does knowledge of this kind never in- 
 crease? The little they do know Is the most 
 Important and interesting thing in the world. 
 Granted again; but can that knowledge nev- 
 er be handed on? Is it all experience, and 
 not learning? Is such knowledge the eternal 
 and ceaseless circle whose only end Is found 
 in going through it, and calling it a wedding 
 ring? 
 
 Some answer to all these questions was 
 perhaps attained by the artist who could 
 paint you a nude figure for every epoch, 
 which seemed as if it should be clad In the 
 garments of that epoch. 
 
 "Should a man marry?" To which Mon- 
 taigne replies — "If a young man, not yet, — 
 if an old man, never". 
 
 Montaigne was like a drum, in that he 
 uttered many things both sound and strik- 
 ing; perhaps this was one of them. The only 
 chance for wedlock, under these conditions, 
 would seem to be that none but middle-aged 
 men should marry. And perhaps the happi- 
 ness of the race would be Increased, and the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 265 
 
 race of happiness shortened if marriage 
 were only permitted to men between thirty 
 and fifty. Foolish children would be set 
 aside, cruel parents largely eliminated; an- 
 cient sires kept from folly; lawful heirs 
 strongly fortified. Perhaps the tide would 
 flow deeper and swifter, like the Mississippi 
 at New Orleans between the Eads jetties, 
 simply because it was confined, and not al- 
 lowed to waste itself on any young Delta 
 Phi, or any old Theta Iota Nu Gamma. For, 
 of course, such restrictions could never ap- 
 ply to women; they would all marry, as they 
 do now, while young and fair, and be happy 
 with their mature, stalwart and sensible 
 spouses. 
 
 November 22. Getting apples into cellar. 
 These will bear harder frost than any fruit 
 or vegetable, unless it be onions, and even 
 when frozen do not undergo such displeas- 
 ing changes as potatoes. 
 
 Time, as has been observed, is of little 
 value to the New Zealand savage, who will 
 spend six months or so in covering a war- 
 club or a paddle with elaborate patterns, his 
 tool a bit of shell. It is of hardly more val- 
 ue to the ecstatic saint, who looked to anoth- 
 er world for rules, action, and reward. But 
 between them lay the great Mount of 
 Achievement, which we spend our lives in al- 
 ternately building up and striving to scale; 
 where he who adds a hod of gravel is almost 
 as much honored as he who sets gay foot 
 
i66 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 thereon; where tasks the savage never 
 dreamed of are proposed and toils the saint 
 ignores are undertaken. To increase, to 
 make coherent, to ascend this mountain of 
 shding sand. Time and Ambition ahke fail 
 us. Sad it is, when, almost conquering the 
 ridge, we see that one step more will place 
 us, not on the top, but on the hopeless down- 
 ward slope; but we are to remember that 
 while few men do all they meant to do, every 
 man does all he was meant to do. 
 
 November 2j. About this time, many 
 years ago, we had a number of young pullets 
 and one or two hens, roosting in the ever- 
 green near which they had been hatched. 
 One night a dog made a clamorous attack, 
 and, I think, caught one of them. The next 
 evening, as they took up their line of march 
 for the tree, I noticed, following in their 
 wake, a dejected and unwilling looking cock. 
 In some way, they had made him aware of 
 their peril, and persuaded him to act as their 
 defender. And as such he remained with 
 them until a week later they were all driven 
 to the hen house. 
 
 Probably at the bottom of every man's 
 mind is the conviction that all women belong 
 to him — as slaves, drudges, ministrants, 
 mirth-makers, elevators, guardian angels, ac- 
 cording to position, character, and tempera- 
 ment. Of course, unless he is a fool, he does 
 not say so — if he is a decent man, he does 
 not act upon it; if he is a wise man, he is not 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 267 
 
 moved by It; If he Is a good man, he strives 
 against It. But the conviction remains. He 
 can pay no woman a greater compliment 
 than to ask her to marry him; that Is, to be 
 his guide and blessing for life; but It Is he 
 who Is to be guided and blessed. When he 
 hears of another's marriage, he vaguely feels 
 that he has acted rather handsomely, and 
 that had he put forth all his powers the oth- 
 er fellow would never have got her. Mis- 
 fortune and failure will severely crop and 
 prune this Idea, but not eradicate It; age will 
 dry, but not kill It. If, perchance, he finds a 
 woman decidedly superior and unmistakably 
 Indifferent, he need never look far to find 
 another so much the contrary that he has 
 only to strike an average and be happy again. 
 And If, by some extraordinary concatenation 
 of causes, or unwonted feebleness of fibre; 
 the notion Is fairly beaten out of him, he will 
 be condemned of all men, most of all women 
 — and deserve It. 
 
 The word "people" Is dear to the heart of 
 woman; she Is the exception who does not 
 mostly use It to signify her own sex, even 
 though the popular action under discussion 
 may be the wearing of plumes or the adjust- 
 ment of pins. While perhaps she would not 
 say In so many words "We are the people, 
 and wisdom shall die with us", she has a 
 comfortable conviction that such Is the case. 
 "Other people" means, with her, the richest 
 half dozen women of her acquaintance. Men 
 are things apart; portents and cranks; trou- 
 
268 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 blous creatures, who have somehow got into 
 their hands a great deal more power than is 
 good for them. You often hear a woman say 
 "I wish I were a man", you never hear a 
 woman say "I wish to be a man". What she 
 wants is, not to exchange her individuahty 
 for his, but to join her individuahty to his 
 potentialities; a thing impossible. In Miss 
 Austen's time, "the gentlemen" were like the 
 thunder-cloud looming on the horizon; 
 fraught with mighty possibilities. Now, "the 
 men" are like electric poles standing in the 
 midst, undeniably tall and strong, still chan- 
 nels of power, but shorn of much awe and 
 some capacity. 
 
 November 24. The grass blades begin to 
 turn yellow along the edges, the wheat to lie 
 flat on the earth. All green leaves are down 
 now, except a very few apples. Only the 
 tenacious oaks hold part of their robes till 
 spring. 
 
 Everyone, and the childless man soonest, 
 comes to the place where he must exchange 
 emotion for philosophy. A child is an em- 
 bodied emotion. True, it is not long before 
 other emotions enter in and dwell there, and 
 the infant entity resents invasion, but it at 
 least prolongs the dwelling among pleasant 
 verdancies by several years. Nor can the 
 infant entity be blamed. Emotion is a neces- 
 sity to the young and a pleasure to the old; 
 philosophy, vice versa. A youth often 
 thinks and says with the younger brother in 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 269 
 
 Comus, "How charming Is divine philoso- 
 phy I" The old man says, and knows, "Give 
 me philosophy, or I perish". To a young 
 man emotion is the vital air, which he 
 breathes without much thinking about It; to 
 the old man it is like hydrogen gas, which 
 may fill him pretty bubbles, may even take 
 him off his feet, if there is enough of it, but 
 which to Inhale were his destruction. There, 
 are, of course, exceptions in both cases, nor 
 can the boundary line be laid down with any 
 certainty; but it may pretty safely be as- 
 serted that the youth who Is really — not sup- 
 erficially and hypocritically — a philosopher, 
 will never come to good; for he, more than 
 any other. Is liable to merge Into that hope- 
 less laughing-stock, the emotional old man. 
 
 November 25. Very mild and summer- 
 like. Grubbing up a little copse of beeches. 
 "The Man with the Hoe", is much pitied; 
 but I am fond of the tool, and always glad 
 when the exigencies of more pressing work 
 will permit me to use it. Under the name of 
 "mattock" It seems to have been in use from 
 time immemorial. 
 
 Cures for seasickness are like cures for 
 single life. As, according to the idealist 
 view, there is but one man in the world in- 
 tended for each woman, and vice versa, 
 wherefore the chances are much against their 
 meeting; so there is one cure for each per- 
 son's mal de mer; and though he may dis- 
 cern it, there is no use in recommending it, 
 
270 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 and after all, seasickness Is not such a terri- 
 ble thing. Indeed, that way lies the true hap- 
 piness of ocean travel. I do not of course 
 refer to those wretched objects one sees 
 dragged on deck the last day of an ocean 
 voyage, looking like Lazarus in Sebastian 
 del Piombo's great picture; anything may be 
 overdone; and to be ill all the passage is 
 overdoing it decidedly. But a quiet and 
 moderate seasickness provides the chief 
 requisites of happiness; something to do, 
 something to think about, something to hope 
 for. Such persons can always imagine how 
 happy they would be if they were well, and 
 when recovery comes, they are on shore ere 
 the short-lived joy has passed. But the man 
 who is "well", as generally considered, can- 
 not get enough exercise to relieve the dull 
 monotony, eats much more than is good for 
 him, sleeps half the day, and so cannot sleep 
 half the night, besides being puffed up with 
 unholy triumph, and pernicious conceit of 
 superiority over his fellow creatures. 
 
 November 26. S. Wild geese and ducks 
 going south. They do not seem to utter 
 their "honk" as much as when on their north- 
 ward way. Perhaps they feel ashamed of 
 taking the long vacation. 
 
 November 27. V. finished ploughing corn 
 stubble. This, the largest field on the place, 
 is now in good order for winter and bad 
 shape for gunners. Few are they who will 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 271 
 
 cross a muddy plowed field. They much pre- 
 fer the grass lands. 
 
 With many another craft which has disap- 
 peared before the advance of progress — the 
 hoy, the perigua, the jolly-boat, etc. — has 
 gone the stone boat. Once no farm was 
 complete without it, but I have not seen one 
 for years. It was a flat sledge, made of 
 three heavy planks slightly turned up at the 
 front end, and strongly bolted to cross-pieces. 
 It was used for drawing off heavy stones, 
 much more easily got upon it than into a 
 wagon, and was joyfully leaped upon by chil- 
 dren. Well do I remember its screech over 
 the large pebbles, its joggling roll on the 
 small ones, and the beautiful wide track it 
 left on soft ground. 
 
 November 28. Plowed beet ground, 
 which about terminates that kind of work 
 for this fall. There has been but little mois- 
 ture in the soil for a long time; but this af- 
 ternoon rain began, and continued through 
 the night. 
 
 Cedars are among the most useful, and yet 
 the commonest, of trees, good for every- 
 thing but burning. Before a fence has been 
 set many years, small red cedars will begin 
 to spring up along it, deposited by the cedar- 
 bird. This is a small grayish white bird with 
 three or four bright yellow feathers near the 
 wing-tips. They eat the berries from the 
 mature cedars, then perch on the new fence, 
 and the seeds spring up from their drop- 
 
272 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 pings. But, quickly as it starts, the cedar is 
 of very slow growth; I remember one In a 
 fence corner, about six feet high when I first 
 knew It, which, when cut down about thirty 
 years later, was not more than eighteen or 
 twenty, and whereas In the first place it 
 might have done for a whip, at Its end it 
 was merely a sizable bean-pole. In that time 
 little oaks and hickories had grown to be 
 great branching trees. The cedar Is also very 
 susceptible of injury from ice storms. The 
 evergreen branches soon take on a load 
 which bends or breaks them distinctively. 
 But no tree makes better rails or posts; when 
 grown in a swamp none furnishes a greater 
 burden of available lumber, none has great- 
 er lightness and strength; It can be used to 
 the tips, and few would be more missed. 
 
 November 2g. Rain all day. In evening 
 caught chickens out of hedge where they 
 have been roosting all fall. It is slow and 
 prickly work, and when one is grasped by 
 the leg, two are liable to go rocketing off, 
 and lie concealed until morning. One took 
 cover under a small bunch of asparagus, and 
 was long unnoticed. 
 
 Shakespeare's country wenches never jest. 
 Why is this? He could not have considered 
 women void of humor, for Beatrice and Des- 
 demona will break you as pretty jests as need 
 be — (and by the way, Desdemona's "chaf- 
 fing" with lago Is perhaps the only scene of 
 the kind between two persons of equal rank 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 273 
 
 and different sex who were not lovers) and 
 Maria's pleasantries, if not always refined, 
 are sharp enough; it could not have been on 
 account of the awful respect due from lowly 
 to lordly, for (not to speak of the licensed 
 jesters, who are free enough with their au- 
 gust mistresses) Corin and Edgar, and the 
 young shepherd in "Winter's Tale", mostly 
 have an answer ready. But Audry, when in- 
 terpolated by Touchstone, takes refuge in 
 "Lord save us!" and Jaquenetta is little 
 more to the point. That their sallies, if spok- 
 en in keeping, would have lacked polish, one 
 can well believe; but that was a point little 
 afflicting Shakespeare. 
 
 November QO. Thanksgiving. It is of- 
 ten inquired why Thanksgiving was deferred 
 to such a late date "long after harvest". The 
 answer is that a thanksgiving is not in order 
 until the crops are gathered in. In this coun- 
 try maize is our principal grain, and was for 
 many years the chief support of man; and 
 maize is not generally harvested and housed 
 through the country till near about this time, 
 though wheat was reaped four months ago. 
 
 The farmer's "killing time", is very dif- 
 ferent from that of the town idler. He rises 
 or rose, for this, like everything else, is com- 
 ing to be done on a large scale in small quar- 
 ters, broke his fast, prepared his tackle, his 
 tubs of water, and his knives, not forgetting 
 a couple of old iron candlesticks. Anon ap- 
 peared a slouching fellow, clad in the oldest 
 
274 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 and foulest of garments — the professional 
 *'slarterer." "Then rose to field and sky the 
 wild farewell", soon happily stilled, as the 
 steam circled from the barrels, and the bris- 
 tles flew from the scraping of the aforesaid 
 candlesticks. By afternoon, two or three 
 reddish white forms hung head downwards 
 from the gambrels, the once farclal sties 
 were empty and gloomy, the children puffed 
 and beat at the bladders, and the housewife 
 exulted in the prospect of a full pork-barrel, 
 that substitute erewhile for the horn of plen- 
 ty. Fruition and Good Cheer, and satisfied 
 Appetite, sat around the board that even- 
 ing, and on the whole, the sum of rural hap- 
 piness was at no term of the year more quick- 
 ly increased than at "killing time". 
 
 December i. With the passing of urgent 
 labor, comes an oppressive sense of Its use- 
 lessness. Many a man who is industrious in 
 May and June is sluggish In December. This 
 Is probably an Inheritance from a hundred 
 generations of ancestors, who, having done 
 all that could be done, huddled together in 
 the dark and tried to keep alive till spring. 
 
 This (Dec. i ) Is about the time of year 
 we used to gather the honey. Taking a sharp 
 cold morning, when the bees were numbed 
 with frost, we would push a big knife all 
 around the box containing "our" honey, to 
 loosen the adhering wax, and pull It out from 
 the upper part of the hive like a bureau 
 drawer, leaving the lower story, about twice 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 275 
 
 as large, containing the bees and "their" 
 honey, say about forty pounds. Ours was 
 twenty when the box was filled, which was 
 not always the case; for the bees naturally 
 took care of themselves, and filled the lower 
 part first, before ascending by the little 8 
 shaped hole, left for their convenience, into 
 the attic. Looking down into the interior, 
 the box removed, we could see the chilled but 
 angry insects crawling over the combs, black 
 with many years filling and trampling, growl- 
 ing over their loss, and urging eath other to 
 attack. Then would we carry away the boxes 
 full of bright yellow comb, devour a part, 
 and sell the rest at twenty cents a pound to 
 the grocer, who would display it in large 
 milk pans for the convenience of customers. 
 Now, such honey as the grocer hath is set 
 forth in little glass slip boxes the size of 
 your hand, the bee moth has devoured work- 
 er, drone, and queen, and our apiary is no 
 more. 
 
 December 2. Ran down out-roosting 
 chickens in the snow. The last one caught 
 was a white pullet with three black feathers 
 on one side of her tail, as if she had just es- 
 caped from a smutty hand. Light and ac- 
 tive as it is, a fowl has no endurance, and can 
 soon be overtaken and captured by an aver- 
 age man. 
 
 A goal, is, in the opinion of very many 
 persons, only a thing to be aimed at from 
 afar. As soon as it is nearly approached, or 
 
276 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 there seems a probability of striking it, ter- 
 ror supervenes, and accuracy ceases. In- 
 deed, I have heard it maintained that as 
 soon as a goal is approached one should turn 
 aside, and aim at another, beyond and dif- 
 ferent from the first. The result of this 
 would seem to be to convert goals into cen- 
 ters of effort, rather than ends of action; 
 that one should travel constantly round them 
 like an athlete on the flying stride, rather 
 than an archer, constantly aiming at an undy- 
 ing mark. Balance is another much misap- 
 plied term. Nothing, for example, can be 
 done in skating without balance. The poor- 
 est amateur who goes plunging along at four 
 miles an hour, pitching from one foot to the 
 other, has some notion of balance, or he 
 could not get along at all. The more deli- 
 cate feats, cutting letters, waltzing backward 
 on one leg for half an hour, and the like are 
 done within much smaller limits, and on 
 shorter curves. 
 
 Then comes a stage when nothing can be 
 done but revolve, and then quiescence. Per- 
 fect balance is inaction. 
 
 He must be an old man who can remem- 
 ber when women and girls did not skate, at 
 least in this country, for Queen Mary (she 
 of the Dual Reign) is said, when in Holland, 
 to have skated with the Duke of Monmouth, 
 following the national custom. About the 
 year 1858 the fashion set in; strangely 
 enough coinciding with the fullest develop- 
 ment of crinoline. Well do I remember a 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 277 
 
 small corner of the lake in Central Park be- 
 ing fenced off for their use, where they could 
 not be incommoded or greatly overlooked. 
 This did not last long, however, and before 
 the Civil War was over, female skaters cov- 
 ered the entire pond. It was a great boon 
 to the magazine writers of that day, and 
 many an inferior tale or poem was floated 
 because it contained a reference to skating. 
 Nor was all such work inferior. From Theo- 
 dore Winthrop's "Love on Skates" to De- 
 Mille's "Lady of the Ice" some very fair 
 narratives were turned out; better, perhaps, 
 than any which either the bicycle or the auto- 
 mobile has yet inspired. Certainly the fad, 
 so to call it, lasted longer and spread further 
 than "wheeling" which, as respects the skill 
 and exertion required, is much on a par with 
 it. 
 
 December 5. S. Rain most of the day, tak- 
 ing off the light December snow, and convey- 
 ing a feeling of stepping back into the au- 
 tumn. 
 
 Which of us would step back if we could, 
 from winter of life to fall, to summer, to 
 spring? It is said that Gibson, the sculptor, 
 was won't to state that he would live his life 
 over again, if he could, right as it fell out. 
 Few would do this. Many say they would 
 do it, if they could have the experience of 
 later years to guide them, but they forget 
 that if they had experience they could not 
 have hope, which is far better. Most mor- 
 
278 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 tals would not mind being as old as they are, 
 if they were not to grow any older; and per- 
 haps this state of things continues up to the 
 last few weeks; that it does not continue up 
 to the last hour, I am confident. Patience 
 wears thin with years. We would not like 
 to give up the small property, dignity, con- 
 sideration which has accrued to us, to be 
 guyed and ridiculed, silenced and ordered 
 about, as we once were. It Is sad to be old 
 and sick, but it is even sadder to be young 
 and sick; we would not be the youngsters of 
 i860, because we would not like the environ- 
 ment, and we would not be the youngsters of 
 1905, because we would not like the heredity. 
 
 December 4, The fall has been so arid 
 that the springs are not running to their ca- 
 pacity, and the drains are quite dry. They 
 say that winter never sets in till the springs 
 fill. 
 
 A shingly beach Is rare in this country; 
 why the term shingle should be applied both 
 to thin plates of wood, and a multitude of 
 small round stones, doth not appear. Even 
 the slope of a shingly beach Is not the same 
 as that of a shingled roof; and assuredly the 
 sound of water on them Is very different. 
 Tennyson speaks of the "maddened scream 
 of a beach dragged down by the wave", 
 which undoubtedly meant a pebbled beach. 
 Such Is the coast at Brighton, and other 
 places in England, this peculiarity, joined 
 to high English tides, gave birth to the Eng- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 279 
 
 lish bathing machine, that wondrous con- 
 struction unknown in any other country, 
 which furnishes all the comforts of home 
 within three feet of the breakers. Possibly 
 a rocky beach if formed of soft conglomer- 
 ate might in time crumble down to a shingly 
 one; indeed, this may have been the case 
 with the argillaceous cliffs of England, the 
 chalk crumbling and washing away, and leav- 
 ing the flints scattered through it to form the 
 shingle. A muddy sea beach is practically 
 impossible; at least, it could only exist in a 
 very sheltered bay. 
 
 December 5. Saw two gunners crossing 
 the field. On my riding up and remonstrat- 
 ing, one of them, locally known as "Scorp", 
 
 threatened to blow my head off. He 
 
 and his companion then started a rabbit, shot 
 at it, and only offered in extenuation that 
 they did not hit it. 
 
 Dignity has been defined as a good thing 
 to lose. And yet we all strive for it. As 
 with many another article in modern times, 
 we blame those who have got it and praise 
 those who want to get it. We consider it 
 like the manna of the Israelites, which it was 
 a duty to gather, a sin to keep over night; 
 only enduring when treated with the boracic 
 acid of jollity. Once dignity was admired 
 when stately and isolate; now it must be like 
 Schooley's mountain, a good deal broader 
 than high. We must get beyond the angle 
 of slip; dignity nowadays has no cohesion; 
 
28o A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 it is sand, not clay. We must be careful to 
 respect the dignity of the infant, we must be 
 sedulous to abridge that of the patriarch. 
 Conferring dignity is now like grading land; 
 all the stut^ there is must be taken to fill in 
 the hollows. And it is curious to see how 
 those who would assert their insulted dignity 
 do so by assuming the manners of the class 
 next below them. Thus, the trespassers just 
 described laid some flattering unction to their 
 souls by cursing like the corner loafer, and 
 the corner loafer conceives that a manly in- 
 dependence is demonstrated by profuse ex- 
 pectoration. 
 
 December 6. Spent some time with a wit- 
 ness in watching two gunners, one of whom 
 I took to be the aforesaid "Scorp". He 
 much resembled him at a distance, but as he 
 drew near I saw that he had tolerably long 
 hair, whereas "Scorp's" had just been cut 
 very short, leaving the back of his head and 
 neck white. As this was a state of things 
 that could not possibly be altered, as the re- 
 verse might, I listened to his loud avowals 
 of indignation at "Scorp's" behavior and 
 turned away. 
 
 History is the result of desire to fix re- 
 sponsibility on individuals. For good or for 
 bad the king is to be held responsible. Con- 
 verge all the Smithfield burnings to a point, 
 call it Bloody Mary, and there you are. 
 Draw the frail and slender threads of law 
 and lore, in England's ninth century, to one 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 281 
 
 bobbin, term that Alfred, and there you are 
 again. To vary the metaphor, it matters not 
 if the Protestant sufferers were the nuts, and 
 Queen Mary the hinge of the awful crackers 
 wielded by forces beyond her control or con- 
 ception, so long as the hinge held, it was re- 
 sponsible. The slow spinning of the threads 
 aforesaid was due to many a cause; the tar- 
 dy revival of ancient learning, the gradual 
 spread of Christianity, the perception that 
 there was something in the Moor after all, 
 the consolidation of Europe; but trace them 
 all to Alfred; and tuck in the ends. Espec- 
 ially is this the case with the short reigns, 
 wherein the monarch could not have had 
 time to get matters even slightly under con- 
 trol; yet Coeur de Lion and Richard III 
 stand out much more sharply than Henry 
 III and James I. 
 
 December 7. Raking leaves in woods for 
 litter. Though one may choose an open and 
 clear-looking place, the number of sprouts 
 and roots which catch and impede the rake 
 is quite surprising, as is also the number of 
 half decayed sticks which need removal. 
 This year's leaves of course form the bulk 
 of the crop, but a thin layer of last year's, 
 white and skeletonized, accompany them, 
 only these two seasons old being thoroughly 
 incorporated with the soil. Perhaps this 
 would be different in a damper year. 
 
 But a few inches separate our toes and 
 heels, yet how different their nature and re- 
 
282 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 pute. The toes are despised and contempti- 
 ble; they have neither duties nor rights. To 
 "have one's toes trodden on" Is an Injury so 
 pitiful that it has passed Into a proverb for 
 wounded conceit. "Tip-toe" suggests strain- 
 ing or spying. But the heel has majesty and 
 mystery. "The Iron heel of power" treads 
 all down; on the heels were fixed the knightly 
 spurs, first badge of honor. Achilles' vulner- 
 able heel saved him. Wholly Impregnable, 
 he had been utterly impossible; that one 
 weak point conquers Hector, silences Agam- 
 emnon, loves Patroclus, yields to Priam. 
 Emerson has said that the woods seem to 
 wait until we have passed through; this is 
 but another rendering of the good or evil 
 genius who treads so close on our heels that 
 we can never see him; did we turn quickly 
 enough, he is there. The Chinese perhaps 
 realized the absurdity of toes when they 
 tried to get rid of them by foot-binding. 
 Even the most familiar phrases never bring 
 the heel into contempt. "Cooling the heels", 
 "down at heel", only indicate the delays and 
 shabbiness which may wait on genius or hero- 
 ism, while "a clean pair of heels" spells 
 flight, It is true, but successful flight. 
 
 December 8. Raking leaves on lawn. Un- 
 less this Is done shortly after rain, it is dif- 
 ficult to make them stick together, and they 
 have to be picked up between two pieces of 
 board. When pulled together with the horse- 
 rake, as is sometimes done, innumerable 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 283 
 
 leaves become threaded on each tooth like a 
 string of dried apples. Light, abundant, and 
 valuable as leaves are, there Is nothing hard- 
 er to gather or store and nothing so seldom 
 used as manure. 
 
 With winter comes, or used to come, the 
 wolf. Probably It Is not over two hundred 
 years since a large part of the civilized 
 world stood In annual dread of him. It Is 
 strange that man's best and closest friend 
 among animals should be so nearly allied to 
 his most hated foe. For hatred has ever 
 been the portion of the wolf. No good (ex- 
 cept only the Romulus and Remus affair) Is 
 ever told of him, no saving clause admitted 
 for his benefit. The Hon Is supposed to pos- 
 sess generosity, the tiger, beauty; the bear, 
 clumsy good nature; the wolf has none of 
 these, but Is malevolent, hideous, cowardly, 
 and cruel as the grave. "The wolf at the 
 door" suggests fear beyond that Induced by 
 any other creature, the "seawolf" Is terror 
 Incarnate. Though he is so much larger and 
 more valuable, the bear lingers In the back 
 settlements beyond the wolf; the Eastern 
 States know Lupus no more. King Edgar 
 slew the last wolf In England. Cameron of 
 Lochlel the last in Scotland; perhaps Colum- 
 bia's last Is reserved to fall by the hand of 
 T. R. 
 
 December g. Light rain. By this time of 
 year, the roads are generally frozen enough 
 to haul up salt hay. Many years ago coming 
 
284 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 from the Island Farm with such a load, we 
 overtook a party at the foot of a short, 
 steep Icy hill whose team had become quite 
 discouraged, and who was waiting for some- 
 thing to happen. Hitching our team before 
 his, we rushed him to the top of the hill. He 
 departed, saying by way of thanks that he 
 was one of that kind that never gave up. 
 
 With winter begins the hewing of wood — 
 not an unpleasant task, under moderately 
 favorable conditions. Bitter winds and deep 
 snow can never be pleasant to work in — 
 and I have cut wood when I could hardly 
 keep my grip on the axe-helve for the ice 
 which formed upon it, when mustache and 
 beard froze together, and I had to make a 
 clearing at the foot of every tree. But in 
 sharp calm weather — when 
 
 "The white chips played about my blade, 
 In wood that baffled wind and storm", 
 
 above all, when felling green timber, not the 
 iron-like dead white oak, or the withered 
 hickory which will throw no chip, the labor 
 is so congenial that one sometimes wishes 
 for the traditional chunk of frozen bean por- 
 ridge, which might avert the necessity of go- 
 ing home to dinner. Chopping does not heat 
 one up quickly, any more than sowing; it can 
 be kept at by the hour, speaking in reason, 
 yet for some cause it, more than field labor, 
 occupies the mind, which is not so often left 
 to chew upon a curtailed text, or a long for- 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 285 
 
 gotten proverb. A half cord of split wood 
 is a smaller, but more conspicuous record 
 than a half acre of turned sod; and if only 
 the trees were more resigned to their fate, 
 and would not pitch and lodge upon one an- 
 other, the sport were not half bad. 
 
 December 10. S. Witch hazel is now in 
 full blossom, and its dull yellow petals are 
 to be seen along banks of streams and other 
 damp places, not unlike the spice-bush in 
 early spring. This uncanny and unseasona- 
 ble blooming caused its reputation as the 
 "chosen wood" of witches and incantations, 
 the last remains of which, enduring to near 
 our time, is the belief that a forked twig of 
 witch hazel will indicate a spring. 
 
 What majesty was wont to hedge about 
 preparations for sleep I How various its 
 paraphernalia ! There was the ascend-du-lit, 
 as if for assumption of a real throne. There 
 were the posts and the tester, the curtains 
 and the valance, the warming-pan and the 
 night-cap. Now all these are cast aside, the 
 feather-bed, the old linen sheets with threads 
 smooth and durable as wire, pass away. I 
 can well remember, when visiting ancient rel- 
 atives in my childhood, how stately and cere- 
 monious were the preparations for slumber, 
 an "twere a holy solemnity." First the inten- 
 tion of retiring was announced, not as now, 
 "Guess it's time tergoter bed", but with for- 
 mal gravity. Shams and counterpanes were 
 removed; curtains drawn back; light shaded 
 
286 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 or turned down; nocturnal refreshments pre- 
 pared. Something like an hour would be oc- 
 cupied in these preliminaries, before the final 
 disrobing and couching. Now we sleep on 
 metal mattresses, upon metal frames, In as 
 airy and disconnected a manner as possible; 
 nay, many of us do not sleep in rooms at all. 
 The glory of the bedroom has departed to 
 the bathroom, which, once a scarcely decent 
 adjunct, Ignored as far as possible, has now 
 become the most expensive and frequented 
 apartment in the house. 
 
 December 1 1. It should seem that the R. 
 R. Company's plan Is to get an estimate 
 from you of the least sum you will take for 
 their crossing your land at the point you 
 prefer, pretend to go there, then revert to 
 their original plan, and refuse to pay you 
 any more, saying that you had named your 
 figure. Another plan is to get permission to 
 erect one pole, then make it fifteen, giving 
 the owner the right to cut them down on six- 
 ty days notice, and If he attempts this, pun- 
 ish him for obstructing the telegraph. 
 
 December 12. Turned back two gunners, 
 one of whom inquired if I did not think It 
 was mean of me to do so. Another Informed 
 me with vehemence that'd he'd shoot any 
 man that shot his dog, and then, to prove his 
 own extraordinary virtue, stated that he nev- 
 er killed any one's chickens. 
 
 A recent anecdote runs thus, showing the 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 287 
 
 slight esteem in which memory is held. 
 
 *'Mrs. A. 'How do you do, Mrs. B. So 
 delighted. And how is your dear little girl?' 
 
 "Mrs. B. 'My httle boy is quite well, 
 thank you.' 
 
 "Mrs. A. 'Ah, yes, boy, to be sure, I knew 
 it was one or the other.' " 
 
 Here Mrs. A. tried to save her discern- 
 ment at the expense of her memory. Of 
 course, she failed, and that egregiously; but 
 she would never have tried to save her mem- 
 ory at the expense of her discernment. Mem- 
 ory is the oldest, most useful, and least es- 
 teemed of all the faculties. "The Mother 
 of the Muses", like many another mother 
 with a host of fair daughters, she meets with 
 few civilities. Nobody is ashamed of con- 
 fessing to a bad memory. How often do we 
 hear the remark, accompanied by a smirk of 
 pride, "If I could remember all the books 
 I've read, I should be so-and-so", but how 
 few say "If I had read all the books I re- 
 member wishing to read, it were well with 
 me". We gather up memory in youth, bear 
 it along in maturity, drop it piecemeal in old 
 age. It may be doubted whether it exists at 
 all beyond this life; in Paradise it were a 
 well nigh useless adjunct, in the Inferno the 
 never dying worm. 
 
 December /j. A fowl's clack nearby and 
 a gunner's call to his dog far off, are very 
 much alike in sound. 
 
 With cold weather the animals are mostly 
 
288 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 put on half-time, and this induces restless- 
 ness. Many a horse who would be only too 
 glad to stand still in his stall after a hard 
 day's work will weave and pull when idling. 
 On many a night now rises the anxious in- 
 quiry, "What's the noise at the barn?" and 
 follows the sleepy reply, "One of the horses 
 is loose". Stronger halters must be had, not 
 only in the stall, but on the street. A horse 
 can break anything you can tie him with, 
 and so one must consider what he had better 
 break. If he is inclined to pull, do not tie 
 him by the bit; if he drops that out of his 
 mouth by breaking billet or check-strap, all 
 control is lost. Draw your tie-strap through 
 the bit-ring, and buckle it around his neck, 
 then he is aware of some pull on his mouth, 
 yet if he breaks the strap the bridle remains; 
 you have something in reserve; there is safe- 
 ty in double rule. Herein lay the rigor and 
 the weakness of Theocracy; there was but 
 one law, and when that was broken, naught 
 remained; it included all; trespass, murmur, 
 curiosity, indolence, were punished as severe- 
 ly as murder or adultery; who offended in 
 one point, was guilty of all; the runaway 
 must be felled instantly, lest worse ensue. 
 Whereas under modern co-existence of civil 
 and religious rule, a man might break every 
 mooring of loyalty to the king, yet swing at 
 anchor, a faithful son of the Church. 
 
 December 14. Poke-weed drying and 
 falling. The stem full of slightly connected, 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 289 
 
 porous disks, like big wafers. The largest 
 of our herbs. In south grows 12 or 14 feet 
 high, like the mustard plant in the Scriptures 
 "The fowls of the air lodged in it". 
 
 The youth is necessitated to find beauty 
 somewhere around him. If his neighbor- 
 hood is pretty, he admires it; if common- 
 place, he embellishes it; if ugly, he trans- 
 forms it. A muddy pool will reflect the sun- 
 set; a barren mound will furnish that near 
 horizon which, for the moment, satisfies de- 
 sire. An old man, revisiting the haunts of 
 his youth, shall wonder at the glamour which 
 made Arden of the scrubby woodlot, and 
 Paradises of the briery fields. A girl crosses 
 his way, is she fair? That is as it should be. 
 Is she plain, silly, and rude? His imagina- 
 tion breaks away and produces maidens of 
 her stature and age, but permeated with the 
 beauty which must be, shall be there. He 
 gazes through a netted telescope which 
 strains out all he would not see; the best only 
 is apparent to him. Thus he knows sorrow 
 only by its relief, and distance by return, and 
 loss by hope, and penury by generosity, and 
 takes all things cast forcibly to earth on the 
 rebound. 
 
 December 75. Cold morning. A light 
 snow began to fall about noon, and we 
 brought the cows in from grass. They have 
 been pastured unusually late this year, the 
 season generally ending a month earlier. 
 Grass is little good after frost has bitten it. 
 
290 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 but this season he has spared It. 
 
 About this time we begin feeding stalks to 
 the cows. As long as grass is green they 
 care battle for such fodder; but with the fall 
 of heavy frost they turn to "stover", as one 
 may imagine a man bereft of society turning 
 • to dry books. At first we give them the 
 smaller and fresher bundles, which they eat 
 up pretty clean; but ere long we come to the 
 big coarse bunches, and the feed-cutter must 
 be brought into play. This is a tapering 
 trough on legs, with an iron collar at one end, 
 and a large knife, hinged at one end and han- 
 dled at the other, sliding across its end. In- 
 to this miniature guillotine the stalks are 
 thrust, and pushed along with the left hand, 
 while the right, holding the knife, cuts them 
 into six, four or three-inch lengths. These 
 the cows will eat, except the larger and 
 coarser bits, which are flung under their feet 
 for litter. There is supposed to be much 
 danger of cutting one's fingers oft with the 
 above machine, and many are the admoni- 
 tions anent it addressed to beginners, but the 
 only wound I ever knew inflicted by it was on 
 a young man who, stooping suddenly in the 
 dark, struck his nose on the back of the 
 knife. 
 
 December i6. Sawing wood — a seasona- 
 ble task. Our neighbor R., who burns a 
 great deal of wood, always has a stack sea- 
 soning behind his bouse, and always in Feb- 
 ruary what remains of the last year's wood 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 291 
 
 is piled over close to the door, to make room 
 for the new cut. For two seasons now he 
 has had the sawing done by a traveling en- 
 gine, leaving only the splitting for hand 
 work. 
 
 Great was the discovery that instead of 
 rubbing the blade back and forth, upon the 
 rock, tlie rock could be revolved under the 
 blade. Then sharpening became ceaseless, 
 and not intermittent; then it could be done 
 with much more delicacy and exactness. 
 Then, moreover, it became a partnership, 
 "One to turn and one to hold", has been the 
 rule for uncounted ages ; which has the bet- 
 ter, he who crouches and propels, or he who 
 stands and steers? I'he one turns, and turns, 
 and douses water, the other holds, and holds 
 and sends forth fire. Some men, gifted in 
 little else, have marvelous skill in putting on 
 an edge; such was McClellan; others would 
 far rather use the blade than sharpen it; 
 such was Pyrrhus. Franklin's purchaser, 
 who preferred the speckled axe, was very 
 like Franklin himself; one may toil too much 
 after polish. In days of yore, my brother 
 held and I turned; and as I swayed to ^nd 
 fro, counting the revolutions and wonder- 
 ing if a thousand more would do it, I was 
 wont to chant a quatrain from Punch — 
 
 "If I'd been a Pardner in a Bank, 
 I shouldn't be workin' at this here crank; 
 I wish it had been 'arf a million Pound, 
 And I shouldn't be turnin' this 'andle 
 round." 
 
292 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 December ij, S. The great advance In 
 learning might be shown by a slight altera- 
 tion of the text to "Many papers shall blow 
 to and fro". They are to be seen tangled In 
 every farm fence and every suburban hedge. 
 To keep things decent one must go up and 
 down the roads at times thrusting the papers 
 Into ruts with a spade. 
 
 To bring truth home to the hearts of men, 
 forcibly yet conveniently, has ever been the 
 aim of the good and wise; yet immense diffi- 
 culties Inhered. If presented, not in Its en- 
 tirety — no man can do that — but in large 
 masses, it was at once too ponderous and too 
 vague for reception; if cut into small chips, 
 it gave no fair sample, and did no lasting 
 good. It was long ago discovered that dra- 
 matic impersonation — that is, the bringing 
 of Mahomet to the mountain — went far to 
 solve the problem. Create your disciples — 
 make them walk, and talk, and act — bring 
 them face to face with your doctrine, and 
 give each the portion convenient for him, so 
 shall all men learn from the spectacle of dis- 
 tribution. Here lay Shakespeare's eminence. 
 Others have delivered their message as vital- 
 ly and melodiously, a few still more so; If 
 none have embodied their audience so well, 
 some have approximated; but he has often- 
 est fitted the burden to the strength, fed each 
 with food meet for him, whereby he might 
 prosper after his kind; he, of all dramatists, 
 best combined the guide and the purveyor. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 293 
 
 December 18. The wrist is that joint 
 which wrenches or twists. E. G. Wring, 
 wry, wried. "If the dear host's neck were 
 wried". Browning. The key used by old time 
 harpers to tune their instruments was called 
 a wrest. What connection has this with the 
 Chaucerian sense of "cover"? "Thy body to 
 wrie", "And he was all over wrien", etc. 
 
 December ig. Examining a swollen red- 
 dish swelling on an alder stem growing at 
 the pond's edge, I was surprised to find that 
 what I had taken for a peeled spot of bark 
 was merely a ring of last fall's dodder, still 
 preserving its rusty yellow color, while ap- 
 parently the constriction of its slender stem 
 had sufficed to leave a very perceptible bunch 
 in the tough shrub. 
 
 December 20. The green cutters begin to 
 appear. A nice grove of young pines has 
 been pretty well done up by them, though the 
 ice storm assisted. Years ago, I found a man 
 there with a hatchet, who Immediately began 
 with suspicious vehemence to denounce those 
 fellows who went round choppin' trees. 
 
 December 21. K. told about finding three 
 chickens drowning in a pail, while the hen 
 was drinking the water. 
 
 There is a story of a woman who made it 
 her boast that she had used the same clothes 
 line for twenty years. Of course this could 
 only be done by constant and careful hous- 
 
294 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 Ing; always exposed to weather, It would not 
 have lasted twenty weeks; clotheslines must 
 not be tarred. Some people are irritated by 
 anecdotes like the above, and say that the 
 fraying out of the woman's nerves and 
 health was much worse than the fraying out 
 of her rope. But this is not a necessary al- 
 ternative ; close attention to detail may dwell 
 under the same roof with breadth of vision. 
 Mary Lyon said "Take an extended view, 
 look at the whole," but Mary Lyon saved 
 her clothes-lines, figuratively if not actually. 
 Whereas Mrs. Slacque, who lets everything 
 go, and whose favorite rejoinder is, "I sup- 
 pose more can be bought", wastes away her 
 senses and health in mildewing gossip and 
 searching bargain sales. 
 
 December 22. Set new gate post, a big 
 half ton affair, four feet deep. We jammed 
 it in place with stones, to shift some of which 
 I had to rest on my head and knees, and lift 
 with my hands. 
 
 The Greeks joined material and execution 
 as near perfection as the earth has seen. The 
 Egyptians excelled in colossal monoliths; the 
 Romans' strong point was their mortar. Ce- 
 mented by this, it mattered not what com- 
 posed their wall — stones, tiles, brick-bats, 
 potsherds — all were made one in that won- 
 derful fusion. And so may a great purpose, 
 a strong belief, a gallant spirit, a clear vi- 
 sion, form and weld together talents the 
 most diverse, or faculties of the feeblest. 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 295 
 
 The unskilled cobbler, the poor camel-driv- 
 er, gained a greater following than Bacon or 
 Crichton; Bayard leads more than Bourbon, 
 Thoreau sees further than Linnoens. Nay, 
 the belief may be stronger than the person- 
 ality. Who has not seen some remnant of 
 dilapidation, the bricks broken across, the 
 mortar holding the fragments together? 
 Such is everyone who will die for his princi- 
 ples, or his faith, or his honor, or his reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 To double is not to increase. 
 
 ''Make thy friend a spectacle", says Em- 
 erson; but there are some who make their 
 friend a pair of spectacles, and only find hap- 
 piness in seeing through him. 
 
 December 2j. The shooting season is 
 nearly over. The boys, the more or less 
 skillful gunners, and the toughs who think 
 they are gunners, have almost disappeared. 
 But now and then a clerkly looking man goes 
 by, seemingly on indifferent terms with his 
 gun. 
 
 December 24. S. Had barbed wire ex- 
 *sted in the olden time dragons would have 
 made their nests of it. What island most sug- 
 gests matrimony? Celebes in search of a 
 wife. "Medio de fonte leporum, surgit 
 amari aliquid" freely translated, "In the 
 midst of the rabbit's spring, bobs the lover's 
 lemonade". 
 
296 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 December 25. There has been no snow 
 as yet, which is one reason gunners are so 
 frequent, as they have not been held up by 
 the law prohibiting the tracking of game in 
 snow. 
 
 Christmas may warm the heart, but it nips 
 the fingers and toes. Years ago, before trol- 
 leys were, we went fourteen miles in an open 
 sleigh, to visit our relatives, returning crea- 
 tures of the drift, our sleigh as full of snow 
 as if that had been what we went for, our 
 tracks instantly effaced by the whirling 
 storm. Even when we got home toil was not 
 over, for after beating life into our fingers 
 we had to knock the balls out of the horses' 
 feet and comb the ice out of their manes. It 
 was only one degree better than riding in a 
 storm, for then the ice gets into the saddle 
 and stirrups. 
 
 Dr. Johnson was no equestrian. His bulky 
 figure and his slender means alike disquali- 
 fied him for the exercise. On two occasions 
 only do we find him mounted; once, on his 
 wedding day, when he had the memorable 
 argument with his bride, ad ungulam; and 
 in the Hebrides, when Boswell, anxious for 
 once to direct affairs, had got him upon a 
 Highland sheltie; yet he liked swift motion; 
 he is said to have declared that being whirled 
 through the country in a post-chaise was the 
 height of felicity. How he would have en- 
 joyed motoring! How comfortably he would 
 have lolled in the cushioned tonneau of a 
 machine up to even his ponderous weight! 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 297 
 
 How brusquely would he have silenced the 
 "foppish lamentations" of those his compan- 
 ions who objected to a dash of rain; and how 
 speciously would he have argued touching 
 the destruction of a heedless chicken. "Sir, 
 if we may roast and eat a fowl for the titilla- 
 tion of our palates, I see not but we may run 
 him down for the intensification of our pleas- 
 ure, but we ought to pay his owner, or itMs 
 sad work.". 
 
 December 26. Several blue jays in a bush, 
 the mild weather has kept them North, or at 
 any rate made them show more abroad. I 
 imagine they never go very far South of this. 
 
 A Compliment is a Complement with its 
 waist slightly pinched; it is something be- 
 longing to your friend; to with-hold it is to 
 with-hold his due; it fills him out properly; 
 won't leave him gibbous? That pretty 
 speech, that graceful action, have waited un- 
 til now for thee to utter or perform. Be not 
 perturbed; assure thyself, Chesterfield nor 
 Voltaire could do it better. Timeliness is 
 all; could Saul have understood Praed, or 
 Regulus Moore? Strike while the iron is 
 hot; fear not for scorching of fingers; cele- 
 rity shall serve better than raw-hide gloves. 
 Flattery is made of other stuff; it is extrane- 
 ous and forced; the Deux ex machina, who 
 should appear from a cloud. "Lay it on with 
 a trowel", as Disraeli said, it remains rough- 
 cast; stucco at best; peeling hopelessly. Frost 
 or shower, even the wear and tear of daily 
 
298 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 routine, will soon be its undoing; but a com- 
 pliment, once lodged, remains a possession 
 for life. 
 
 December 2y, Neighbor K. suggests that 
 it were well if tramps were made to carry 
 passes, as negroes used to do in days of yore. 
 
 Coming one day between Xmas and New 
 Year along the street in a sleigh, myself and 
 a neighbor on the front seat, my wife and 
 father behind, I was suddenly aware of a 
 runaway horse with an empty sleigh rushing 
 out of a side avenue, and coming straiglit for 
 me on the wrong side of the street, looking 
 as big as a house. I pulled away from the 
 snow-bank, but our horse was only slightly 
 turned from his track when the other was 
 upon us, with a crash that burst everything 
 loose. Steadied by the reins at the moment 
 of impact, I kept my place; but my wife flew 
 from her seat as our sleigh performed a 
 quarter-circle backward, and fell right in the 
 track of the runaway, who, pierced to the 
 heart by our shaft, made a great leap over 
 her, fell spouting gore, and died in a few mo- 
 ments. One thought occupied my mind: 
 "How did she get in front of me when she 
 was behind me?" Meanwhile our horse, find- 
 ing himself loose, performed a gambol or 
 tv/o, and then stood looking inquiringly 
 about until he was wanted again. The oth- 
 er's shaft had only picked a little skin from 
 his shoulder. Never before did I realize so 
 well how one party in a tournament might be 
 
A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 299 
 
 spitted, the other go unscathed. 
 
 December 28. Riding this afternoon, 
 could hear the squirrels scampering through 
 the dry leaves on both sides of the road. 
 They are very vigilant and active now from 
 nearly forty days pursuit by gunners; but 
 their close time is near at hand. It is said 
 that a great many wild fowl did not go South 
 at all this winter. 
 
 December 2g. Working at filling a wash- 
 out this morning, observed a large flock of 
 gulls (who seldom are seen here in number) 
 wheeling and turning against a dark cloud, 
 their wings catching the light like silver or 
 glass. At one moment they would disappear 
 entirely, and then flash out again, as they 
 came broadside to the sun's rays. The day 
 was like April, mild and balmy. 
 
 December jo. Helplessness and omnipo- 
 tence are alike sacred; the busiest person liv- 
 ing is the devil. 
 
 December J7. S. The weather has been 
 exceptionally warm and calm; never more 
 worthy to be called "halcyon days". 
 
 We are judged by the average; it is Over- 
 Brahma; at once the doubter and the doubt, 
 the justice and the scales. Average, as its 
 name implies, is not the truth; but it is sing- 
 ularly like it. You can prove nothing against 
 an average; you can claim anything for it. 
 
300 A FARMER'S NOTE BOOK 
 
 It is immune, ever-inoculated, Mithidates 
 among poisons. It is the king who can do 
 no wrong, the court of final appeal. We 
 despise it until it overwhelms us; no lance 
 was ever laid in rest against it, many a one 
 has it broken. It is like Mont Blanc, tower- 
 ing above all men's heads, trodden under 
 foot of individuals. "What dost thou here?" 
 says the doughty champion; striding forth in 
 the pride of his youth. "Fall on us, and pro- 
 tect us", cry the defeated and the prostrate. 
 It is the inexhaustible foundation of all things; 
 base in both senses; incapable of progress or 
 retreat. Fringed with uncertainty, it alone 
 stands poised, bringing us to torture, insur- 
 ing us against ruin. It is the ally of the un- 
 reasonable, the destruction of the unwary; 
 in youth it is the Pons Asinorum ; in age it is 
 Al Sirat. 
 
JUN 26 1912 
 
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