Part 6 (1/2)

September proved as dry as August was wet,--only half an inch of water fell; and the seedings would have been slow to start had they depended for their moisture upon the clouds. By October 1, however, green had taken the place of brown on nearly all the sixty acres we had tilled.

The threshers came and threshed the wheat and oats. Of wheat there were 311 bushels, of oats, 1272. We stored this grain in the cottage until the granary should be ready, and stacked the straw until the forage barn could receive it. My plan from the first has been to shelter all forage, even the meanest, and bright oat straw is not low in the scale.

On the 10th the horse stable was far enough advanced to permit the horses to be moved, and the old barn was deserted. A neighbor who had bought this barn at once pulled it down and carted it away. In this transaction I held out several days for $50, but as my neighbor was obdurate I finally accepted his offer. The first entry on the credit side of my farm ledger is, By one old barn, $45. The receipts for October, November, and December, were:--

By one old barn $45.00

By apples on trees (153 trees at $1.85 each) 283.00

By 480 bushels of potatoes at 30 cents per bushel 144.00

By five old sows, not fat 35.00

One cow 15.00

Three cows 70.00

Two cows 35.00

Three cows, two heifers, nine calves 187.00

Forty-three shoats and gilts, average 162 lb., at 2 cents per lb 139.00

Total $953.00

The young hogs had eaten most of my small potatoes and some of my corn before we parted with them in late November. These sales were made at the farm, and at low prices, for I was afraid to send such stuff to market lest some one should find out whence it came. The Four Oaks brand was to stand for perfection in the future, and I was not willing to handicap it in the least. Top prices for gilt-edged produce is what intensive farming means; and if there is money in land, it will be found close to this line.

The potatoes had been dug and sold, or stored in the cellar of the farm-house; the apples from the trees reserved for home use had been gathered, and we were ready for the fall planting. While waiting for the stock to arrive, we had time to get in all the hay and most of the straw into the forage barn, which was now under roof.

On Sat.u.r.day, the 26th, word came that sixteen immense boxes had arrived at Exeter for us. Three teams were sent at once, and each team brought home two boxes. Three trips were made, and the entire prospective orchard was safely landed. Monday saw our whole force at work planting trees. Small stakes had been driven to give the exact centre for each hole, so that the trees, viewed from any direction, would be in straight lines. Sam, Zeb, and Judson were to dig the holes, putting the surface dirt to the right, and the poor earth to the left; I was to prune the roots and keep tab on the labels; Johnson and Anderson were to set the trees,--Anderson using a shovel and Johnson his hands, feet, and eyes; while Thompson was to puddle and distribute the trees. The puddling was easily done. We sawed an oil barrel in halves, placed these halves on a stone boat, filled them two-thirds full of water, and added a lot of fine clay. Into this thin mud the roots of each tree were dipped before planting.

My duty was to shorten the roots that were too long, and to cut away the bruised and broken ones. The top pruning was to be done after the trees were all set and banked. The stock was fine in every respect,--fully up to promise. Watching Johnson set his first tree convinced me that he knew more about planting than I did. He lined and levelled it; he pawed surface dirt into the hole, and churned the roots up and down; more dirt, and he tamped it; still more dirt, and he tramped it; yet more dirt, and he stamped it until the tree stood like a post; then loose dirt, and he left it. I was sure Johnson knew his business too well to need advice from a tenderfoot, so I went back to my root pruning.

We were ten days planting these thirty-four hundred trees, but we did it well, and the days were short. We finished on the 7th of November. The trees were now to be top pruned. I told Johnson to cut every tree in the big orchard back to a three-foot stub, unless there was very good reason for leaving a few inches (never more than six), and I turned my back on him and walked away as I said these cruel words. It seemed a shame to cut these bushy, long-legged, handsome fellows back to dwarfish insignificance and brutish ugliness, but it had to be done. I wanted stocky, thrifty, low-headed business trees, and there was no other way to get them. The trees in the lower, or ten-acre, orchard, were not treated so severely. Their long legs were left, and their bushy tops were only moderately curtailed. We would try both high and low heading.

On the night of November 11 the shredders came and set up their great machine on the floor of the forage barn, ready to commence work the next morning. There were ten men in the shredding gang. I furnished six more, and Bill Jackson came with two others to change work with me; that is, my men were to help him when the machine reached his farm. We worked nineteen men and four teams three and a half days on the forty-three acres of corn, and as a result, had a tremendous mow of shredded corn fodder and an immense pile of half-husked ears. For the use of the machine and the wages of the ten men I paid $105. Poor economy! Before next corn-shredding time I owned a machine,--smaller indeed, but it did the work as well (though not as quickly), and it cost me only $215, and was good for ten years.

The weather had favored me thus far. The wet August had put the ground into good condition for seeding, and the dry September and October had permitted our buildings to be pushed forward, but now everything was to change. A light rain began on the morning of the 15th (I did not permit it to interrupt the shredding, which was finished by noon), and by night it had developed into a steady downpour that continued, with interruptions, for six weeks. November and December of 1895 gave us rain and snow fall equal to twelve and a half inches of water. Plans at Four Oaks had to be modified. There was no more use for the ploughs. Nos. 10 and 11, and much of the home lot were left until spring. I had planned to mulch heavily all the newly set trees, and for this purpose had bought six carloads of manure (at a cost of $72); but this manure could not be hauled across the sodden fields, and must needs be piled in a great heap for use in the spring. The carpenters worked at disadvantage, and the farm men could do little more than keep themselves and the animals comfortable. They did, however, finish one good job between showers. They tile-drained the routes for the two roads on the home lot,--the straight one east and west through the building line, about 1000 feet, and the winding carriage drive to the site of the main house, about 1850 feet. The tile pipe cost $123. They also set a lot of fence posts in the soft ground.

Building progressed slowly during the bad weather, but before the end of December the horse barn, the woodshed, the granary, the forage barn, and the power-house were completed, and most of the machinery was in place.

The machinery consisted of a fifteen horse-power engine, with shafting running to the forage barn, the granary, and the woodshed. A power-saw was set in the end of the shed, a grinding mill in the granary, and a fodder-cutter in the forage barn. The cost of these items was:--

Engine and shafting $187.00

Saw 24.00

Mill 32.00