The Baraboo news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1884-1911, 1906-01-10
IN
FARMING.

Stralgnt, and asked MIN TO heIp me
get started. He told me to go
ahead, that I must learn, and that
if | did get the rows crooked l would
get more hills in them. It then
dawned upon me that the nearest
way between two points was the
straightest and that John must be
right. So went back, and shutting
the gate so the horse could not get
out of the field, away we went. In
due time the corn was up ready to
cultivate. Planting a boy on the
old horses back and grasping the
cultivator handles I told him to
"get up" We had not "got up
far before I discovered that the
horse was walking on one row and
the cultivator tearing out the
other. This made me hot, and [
asked the lad if he could not drive
better than he was doing? He said
he could not with a long-geared
horse, but if we had one that was
shorter connected-say a Shetland
pony he might then make the
curves. [ could not sift much
poetry from such talk, produced by
a ten-year-old boy, so told him to
60 home. and putting the horse in
the pasture, [ concluded to let the
corn go until it got large enough so
the cultivatOr could not root it out.
One day in July Nick Crawley came
along and asked me what [ had
planted-weeds? This cut NE a
little and I replied, yes. ''Well,
you've got a good stand" he said;
"your fields are as green as any I've
SEEN" In the fall when ] attempt
ed to cut the corn it was so short |
could not make it stand in shocks.
| went over to Newt Moorehead's
and told him my trouble. He said,
1--WE do not cut corn when it is as
short as yours-we pull it," I then
told him 1 felt discouraged. Three
cloud-bursts had cut my fields to
pieces, and the winds and rains had
knocked down and destroyedmy rye
and clover. Now in the face of d
long Wisconsin winter | had nothing
in my pockets but an elegant as
sortment of holes. I cannot see
any poetry in farming. "Oh, you
must not talk that way" he said.
"OnlY the brave perservering life is
worth the living. Of course you
will meet these little reverses in
farming just as you will in any walk
in life. The gentle zephyrs that
cool your sweating brow sometimes
return in cyclones that level our
houses and barns, rip open our
granaries and pull out our drilled
wells. The gentle dews, by heaven
distilled, that revive the parched
plant life ofttimes return in angry
torrents that carry upon their
swelling bosoms death and destruc-
tion in multitudinous forms. But
as you learn to look above and be-
yond these kinks in nature you will
find the dark clouds turning softly
into gray, the gray turning round
and showing only the silverY lining" "
Well, that kind of talk was quite
poetical, but it wouldn't hold water
in my case.
There were a couple of dozen old
apple trees on the place when l
bought it. One day [ saw a man
coming down the road that I took
to be Mr.. Schellenberg, proprietor
of the farmers nurseries. [ hailed
him and asked what month he con-
sidered best'to tap trees to make
cider. He looked at me a moment,
and there was anything but poet s
smile on his countenance, and ask
ed what the lighted lanterns we e
hanging in the trees for? | told him
I had read in the wisconsin Agri-
culturist" that they would catch
the seeding moths that are such
deadly enemies Of the fruit. "Yes, :"
he said, "a light in the night will
often catch or draw moths to it,
but Inever saw a we'll balanced moth
hunting for lightin the day time.
If you live to become a practical
farmer you will have outstripped
old MethusIah in years. Say" he
continued, do you know that our
state and national governments are
expending millions of dollars an