My Farm.
Now, I had become somewhat proud of my farm, as what man does not who had quadrupled its increase within ten years? I was cutting yearly some two hundred tons of hay on less than half that number of acres, and I knew that if I sold my cows I should, in some way, be obliged to get rid of my hay and that would mean disaster to the farm. There might be no decrease in acres, but there would be a sad diminution in the tons of hay. The result is, I keep cows for my own use. Have built two new barns, each one hundred feet long, the basements of which are utilized for box stalls, accommodating sixty boarding horses. These convert my hay and grain (for which I receive the market price) into manure. This is all I expect and all I get.
A while ago a gentleman from New York caught me hoeing in my onion patch. He expressed his astonishment at the size of the onions. (I now grow two or three hundred bushels yearly to supply my own and neighbors' wants, and just to keep my hand in.) Said he: "Your land seems well adapted to this crop." "Yes, I have some twenty or thirty acres that are level, the soil is easily worked and friable, not troubled much with maggot, and, if properly handled, is about sure of a crop." "Why don't you put it all into onions?" "I cannot afford to." "Why," said he, "if our New York farmers had that land within twenty or thirty miles of New York city it would be worth $1,000 an acre, and they would make it pay twenty-five per cent. of that, too, every year." "Possibly they could, but with one-tenth of the labor and capital employed I can raise ducks enough on one acre to buy all the onions I can raise on ten. If I am going to increase my capital and labor in any direction I should put it into ducks, not onions." He acknowledged that perhaps I was right, but at the same time thought it was poor economy to grow nothing but hay on such land as that.