The Republican journal., 1876-11-09

header-wagons are attached, and the bag
filters bring up their sacks. All the lids
| that cover the inner works of the great
machine are drawn over, and all is made
fast. The wheels are locked as are those
OF the engine. Great care is taken to keep
all things as perfect level as may be. to
insure the proper economy of force.
They try the engine. 1t is all right.
The separator clatteTs in tune, and moth
ing is amiss, Now, then, for the grain !
In moment the wagons begin to unload.
Huge iorkfuls are pitched upon the ground
from which it is borne into the recesses of
the separator. Then there ensues a strange
combination of tremendous noises 4
sound OF grinding, II sound of brushing, a
sound OF humping and a sound OF roar
ing. The entire fabric shivers from top to
bottom, and from out every crevice there
ponrs Il thin sheet of dust The upper
part belches out the waste, hundreds OF
pounds and tons of chafl', and a sitting
cloud follows il, In n second everything
is on springs. The men who fill the bags
hang them at the edges of the troughs
The brown flood comes pouring doWn-a
| stream of clean kernels OF wheat-a and the
days work fairly begins. From the larg-
| est separator in the field there run out six
sacks, or eight hundred pounds of grain
fit for market, each minute This machine.
one day in August, 1874, thrashed five
thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine
bushels Its owner calls it the Monitor
All the engines have names as we'll
Gladiator Phoenix, Mars and the like. No
one would ever be mad enough to call one
OF these Ceres, for instance. There is no
suggestion Of gentleness, or grace or poe
try, IN the whole field. All is ingenuity,
precision, order, force, A cry Of admira
tion rises to ones lips time and again, bnt
the sensation is the same that one feels up
on witnessing a string of ten-striles in Il
bowling alley, only a thousand times eX
tended
1t is great to see the headers keep their
circles of destruction, hewing down the
fair eXpanse Of bowing golden heads rs !;
ship hews down the crested waves. and to
hear the smooth, unending click-clach of
Their gIistening sickles Even the move
! ments of the ungainly red wagons that
wait upon them have al untaling order
that has a strange power TO please.
Most of the men are dressed in brown
canvas Jumpers and oyerallS, and wear
broad -brimmed hats of straw OF felt. Not
one of them is idle, nor seems to wish to
be. Most of them are driving. Some are
pitching, n few are feeding the separator,
Il few more are filling, sewing and carry
ING away the bags, and some are brushing
away the heaps Of chatf Early in the day
there is plenty of talk and laughter. but
later on. as the work tells. and the sun
grows hot. the tongues become silent and
the hubbuh of the machines alone fills the
air.
At noon Il huge van is driven upon the
field, laden down with dinner of meat
vegetables and pies. all well cooked and
very palatable Farm-hands, like fisher
men, nowadays are epicuros, This van is
so constructed that its sides form broad
tables, The cooks who serve stand IN the
body of the wagon, and the diners range
themselves round the outside. All are
sheltered by a screen Of wood or canvas
overhead [Appetons' journal