SECTION III.—FOOD.
CHAPTER I.
UNCULTIVATED FOODS.
Heat and light—each is necessary for our bodily comfort and well-being. We have seen that much time and thought have been spent during the past three hundred years in providing the most satisfactory methods for heating and lighting our houses. We have found that wood and coal in our fireplaces, stoves, and furnaces have given us the best heat. We have learned that kerosene and gas made from coal are the most common sources of light. Even electricity, the latest means for producing light and heat, usually needs the power of steam for its development; and heat is necessary to produce steam. We have a common name for the wood, the coal, the gas, and the oil, from the burning of which heat and light result; this name is fuel.
Another form of fuel is even more necessary than coal and wood. In the winter we warm our rooms so that we may not suffer from the cold; but the stove does not warm us when out of doors. Then we put on our heavy winter wraps, but these give us no warmth: they merely keep in the heat of the body or keep out the cold blasts of the wind. We all know that the body is warm of itself; that there is something within us that produces heat, like a fire. When our fingers become chilled by the frosty air we may warm them with our breath. The temperature of a room may be seventy degrees or less, but if we place the bulb of a thermometer beneath the tongue we shall find that the mercury rises to ninety-eight degrees.
The fire in the body and the fire in the stove act very much alike. If the draughts of the stove are closed tight and no air is admitted, the fire dies down and goes out. If the air which enters the body is foul, the fire feels the effect and our health is injured. If the lungs are filled with water or anything else which keeps out the air, the fire goes out and life is lost.
The fuel which we call food is just as necessary for the fire in our body as is wood or coal for the fire in the stove. Three times a day or oftener we take this food-fuel into our bodies; thus we keep the fire steadily burning which makes us warm and keeps us alive.
On the other hand, fuel for the body must be very different from fuel for a stove. In the stove heat alone is wanted; therefore one form of fuel is enough. In the body bones must be enlarged and strengthened, muscles must be developed, fat must be provided in sufficient quantities, and brain-matter must be produced. Therefore the food-fuel must provide not only heat but also the different materials of which the body is made. One kind of food is necessary for the bones, another for the blood, another for the flesh, and another for the nerves. Thus while in studying common fuel we have only to learn about wood, either in the form of trees or pressed into the form of coal, in studying food-fuel we find that the kinds are almost numberless. Meat and vegetables, fish and fruit, roots and nuts, in their infinite varieties, are all included in the word food.
We are told that all matter belongs to one of three kingdoms—the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms. From two of these three divisions we obtain most of our food. Food may be divided into two classes then—animal food and vegetable food. In animal food we have the meat of wild animals and of domestic animals. In early days, when the number of people was small, the supply of wild animals was large. A great part of the food in those days was obtained by hunting and fishing. To-day most of the meat comes from domestic animals, so that the keeping of herds and flocks is one of the great industries of the time. Fish are still important in our lists of foods, but the flesh of wild animals is less and less used for meat.
Three hundred years ago the Indians had this country to themselves. They were few in number and were scattered over a vast territory. The forests abounded in wild game and the lakes and rivers were filled with fish. Love of hunting and fishing held the first place in the pleasures of the red man. The hunting grounds extended far and wide in every direction. Each tribe had its own hunting and fishing grounds, and it was considered an act of war for any tribe of Indians to encroach upon the territory of other tribes.
"Such places as they chose for their abode," says Hubbard's History, "were usually at the falls of great rivers, or near the seaside, where was any convenience for catching such fish as every summer and winter used to come up the coast. At such times they used, like good fellows, to make all common, and then those who had entertained their neighbors at the seaside expected the like kindness from them again up higher in the country."
The kinds of wild animals that the Indians hunted were very numerous. One man describes the appearance of an Indian's "room of skins." He says: "There they showed me many hides and horns, both beasts of chase of the stinking foot—such as roes, foxes, jackals, wolves, wildcats, raccoons, porcupines, skunks, muskrats, squirrels, and sables—and beasts of chase of the sweet foot—buck, red deer, reindeer, moose, bear, beaver, otter, hare, and martin." Captain John Smith tells of the fowl that the red men hunted. He mentions eagles, hawks, cranes, geese, ducks, sheldrakes, teal, gulls, and turkeys.
INDIANS HUNTING GAME.
The variety of fish caught by the Indians was also very large. "Higher up at the falls of the great rivers they used to take salmon, shad, and alewives, that used in great quantities, more than cartloads, in the spring, to pass up into the fresh-water ponds and lakes." "In March, April, May, and half June," says John Smith, "here is cod in abundance; in May, June, July, and August, mullet and sturgeon; herring, if any desire them; I have taken many." Again he writes of whales, grampuses, hake, haddock, mackerel, sharks, cunners, bass, perch, eels, crabs, lobsters, mussels, and oysters.
We may also divide vegetable food into two classes—that which nature provides without the aid of man, or wild vegetables, and that which requires cultivation, or cultivated vegetables. Many forms of nuts, berries and fruits, and some forms of common ground vegetables grow wild. The red men found these in great abundance.
John Smith found in New England currants, mulberries, gooseberries, plums, walnuts, chestnuts, and strawberries, besides other fruits of which he did not know the names. He made a journey up the Potomac River, and reported that the hills yielded no less plenty and variety of fruit than the river furnished abundance of fish.
Smith also described acorns whose bark was white and sweetish; he added that these acorns, when boiled, afforded a sweet oil that the red men kept in gourds to anoint their heads and joints. The Indians also ate the fruit of this acorn, made into bread. There were plums of three kinds and cherries. Smith discovered also a great abundance of vines "that climb the tops of the highest trees in some places. Where they are not overshadowed from the sun, they are covered with fruit, though never pruned nor manured."
Hunting and fishing are carried on in much the same way to-day as they were centuries ago. The gun has taken the place of the bow and arrow, and fishing implements have been somewhat improved. But to capture and kill is now, as formerly, all that is needed to obtain this form of food, if the wild animals themselves can be found. Wild vegetables may be gathered to-day in just the way that our ancestors gathered them, though they are not found in so great quantities because of the increase of cultivation. In studying the changes in the modes of living that have occurred in this country during the last three hundred years, we find that almost all the improvements in the production of food have been in the planting, cultivating, and harvesting of food, and the bringing it to market.
CHAPTER II.
CULTIVATED FOODS.
Hunting and fishing did not furnish either sufficient or satisfactory food for the Indians. A portion of their time was spent in cultivating certain products of the soil. Black Hawk, a famous Indian chief, writes: "When we returned to our village in the spring from our hunting grounds we would open the caches and take out corn and other provisions which had been put up in the fall, and then commence repairing our lodges. As soon as this is accomplished we repair the fences around our fields and clean them off ready for planting corn. This work is done by our women. The men, during this time, are feasting on dried venison, bear's meat, wild fowl and corn.
THE CORN DANCE.
"Our women plant the corn, and as soon as they get done we make a feast and dance the corn dance. At this feast our young braves select the young woman they wish to have for a wife. When this is over we feast again and have our national dance.
"When our national dance is over, our corn-fields hoed, and every weed dug up, and our corn about knee high, all our young men would start in a direction toward sundown to hunt deer and buffalo, and the remainder of our people start to fish. Every one leaves the village and remains away about forty days. They then return, the hunting party bringing in dried buffalo and deer meat, the others dried fish.
"This is a happy season of the year; having plenty of provision, such as beans, squashes, and other produce, with our dried meat and fish, we continue to make feasts and visit each other until our corn is ripe.
"When the corn is fit for use another great ceremony takes place, with feasting and returning thanks to the Great Spirit for giving us corn. We continue our sport and feasting until the corn is all secured. We then prepare to leave our village for our hunting grounds."
Thus we see that the most important crop among the Indians was maize or Indian corn. This grain is specially suited to the climate and soil of a large portion of the country; it was wholly unknown to the Europeans who first came to America.
John Smith in Virginia and Roger Williams in New England were much interested in the Indian corn. It is from their writings that we learn how the red men cultivated and used this strange product of the New World.
As corn was the Indians' main dependence, they ate it at all times and in various ways. They roasted the green ears in the ashes; sometimes they cut the kernels from the cob and boiled them with beans, making a kind of succotash. Meal was made by pounding the kernels in a wooden mortar; if the corn was old it was soaked over night and pounded in the morning.
This meal also was cooked in different ways. Sometimes it was wrapped in corn husks and boiled; at other times it was mixed with water and made into cakes, which were baked in the ashes of the fire. Often a pudding was made from the meal, in which blackberries were placed. When the Indians travelled, they were accustomed to carry enough of this meal to last several days, either in a small basket or a hollow leathern girdle.
Such was life among the Indians. Usually food was plenty and feasting was common, but at times food was scarce and fasting was necessary. If the Indian had sufficient for to-day, he cared little for to-morrow. If the corn crop failed or if the hunting expedition turned out badly, the red man accepted it as a necessary evil and made no complaint.
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH.
(From the history of Virginia, by Captain John Smith.)
The first Englishmen to learn of the foods that could be obtained in the New World were two captains sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh to explore the Atlantic coast of America. They returned full of enthusiasm for the fertile soil and the delightful climate of Virginia. They praised also the kindness of the Indians, who provided them with the best of food—deer, hares, fish, walnuts, melons, cucumbers, peas, and corn.
Apparently there was an abundance of food in the New World—flesh, fish, fruits, nuts, vegetables, and grain. The sailors were not farmers, however; nor were the colonists who came over the next year. They had no knowledge of the labor necessary to till the soil and raise the food, and after a year on Roanoke Island they returned to England.
Twenty years later the colonists at Jamestown were no more ready to labor at farming than those at Roanoke had been. Numbers died from hunger during the first summer, but the leader, John Smith, was able, from his own strength of character, to hold survivors to the work until a fair abundance of corn had been obtained. Meanwhile Smith managed to buy or borrow provisions from the Indians.
The settlers at Plymouth arrived in early winter and found a climate much colder than that of England or Holland. They could not hope to harvest a crop before the next autumn, and they also were dependent upon the red men for many months.
Soon after the Mayflower arrived in Provincetown harbor an expedition was sent out to search for the best spot to build a village. They followed the tracks of Indians, but could not find them nor their dwellings. The first sign of human life was a piece of clear ground which had been planted some years before. Going a little farther they found a field in which the stubble was new, showing that the ground had been recently cultivated. Finally they came upon "heaps of sand newly paddled with their hands." Led by curiosity the Pilgrims digged in these places and found several baskets filled with corn. This grain seemed to the Pilgrims a "very goodly sight," though they had never seen corn before. They carried the grain back to the ship, and when the Indians who owned the corn were found, the Pilgrims gladly paid them its full value.
When spring came the colonists at Plymouth began making preparations for planting. An Indian, named Squanto, who had previously been carried to England and had learned to speak some English, showed himself very friendly. He taught them how to prepare the fish which must be put in every hill for a fertilizer. He directed the planting and cultivating of the fields. As a result they had "a good increase." They were not so successful in other ways, for their barley crop was very light and their peas dried up with the sun.
A curious story is found in some old records. The dogs in a Plymouth colony town caused the farmers great trouble by digging up the alewives which they were accustomed to place in the hills. Therefore a law was passed that required the owner of every dog either to keep him securely tied for forty days after the fields were prepared, or to tie a forepaw to his head so that it would be impossible for the dog to dig in the newly prepared hill.
Two years later the Pilgrims are said to have had nearly sixty acres of ground well planted with corn, and many gardens filled with fruits and vegetables. However, the crop was light, mainly because the colonists had been too weak, from lack of food, properly to attend to it. A famine would have followed for the third time had not a vessel arrived from England, in August, bringing provisions sufficient for the winter.
For several years the Pilgrims were compelled to live partly upon wild game and fish. One summer their main support was obtained by the use of the only boat that remained, with which they caught large quantities of bass. They also obtained clams when they could not get fish, used ground-nuts in place of bread, and caught many wild fowl in the creeks and marshes.
The colonists had no milk, butter, nor cheese for the first three years in Plymouth. There were no domestic animals in New England until, in the spring of 1623, a vessel arrived bringing the first cows. In time beef and veal were added to the list of foods, and soon other domestic animals were brought over. By the middle of the fourth summer the village of New Plymouth was reported to have nearly two hundred inhabitants, with some cattle and goats, and many swine and poultry.
AN ANCIENT PLOW.
The tools used by the early colonists were, like their houses and furniture, of the rudest manufacture. Agriculture, such as exists in the United States to-day, was entirely unknown two centuries ago. The plow was little used and the few plows among the colonists were inconvenient, heavy tools. The important planting and cultivating implement used by the farmers was the hoe.
The village or plantation blacksmith made the tools for the farmers, and they were rudely formed and shaped. In harvest time the hoe was again called into use, as well as the roughly constructed scythes and pruninghooks. The muscle-developing flail separated the grain from the straw, and the miller ground it into meal, or flour, taking "toll" for his pay—that is, a fixed fraction of the product.
How the system of agriculture has changed during these two centuries, or rather during the last century, for few of the improvements are yet a hundred years old! As in the methods of producing heat and light, inventions have done wonders in providing us with a greater amount and a larger variety of food at a reduced cost. Formerly all farm-work was done by the use of great muscular power. Only a strong man can wield the hoe for hours at a time. To walk behind a plow, guiding the horse and holding the plow in place, is no light task. To swing a scythe from early morning until late in the day severely taxes the strength. To thresh grain upon the barn floor with a flail day after day needs much physical endurance. The labor of many men was required to manage even a comparatively small farm. To-day all these conditions are changed.
At the present time "the most desirable farm-hand is the man with the cunning brain who can get the most work out of a machine without breaking it. The farm laborer finds himself advanced to the ranks of skilled labor. The man who plows uses his muscle only in guiding the machine. The man who operates the harrow has half a dozen levers to lighten his labor. The sower walks leisurely behind a drill and works brakes. The reaper needs a quick brain and a quick hand—not necessarily a strong arm nor a powerful back. The threshers are merely assistants to a machine. The men who heave the wheat into the bins only press buttons."
CHAPTER III.
IMPLEMENTS FOR PLANTING.
George was determined to be a farmer. He was but twelve years of age, yet he felt sure that he knew his own mind. He said to himself and to his friends that life out of doors, life on a farm, was the best and healthiest kind of life. He declared that to raise the food of the world was the most important service that man could do for his fellow-beings.
The boy lived in a city. He had always lived in a city and had never seen a farm. He had never been away from home. His home was a flat, or apartment, occupying a portion of one floor of a ten-story block. His knowledge of life was limited entirely to city life. He had been to the park; he had seen there trees and shrubbery, grass and flowers. Yet he had never visited the park alone; he had never seen any of the work needed in caring for the trees and flowers. He knew absolutely nothing about gardening or farming; he could not tell the difference between a hoe and a rake; he would not be able to answer the simplest questions about farm life.
Yet George had decided to be a farmer, and he had made up his mind to study the subject of farming at once. He proposed to ask Uncle Ben all sorts of questions every chance he could get. He intended to obtain books from the library that would tell him what he needed to know. Oh, could he only go into the country, try for himself life upon a farm, and see with his own eyes what a farmer had to do!
So George went to work. He did not neglect his school duties, but carefully prepared his daily lessons. When these were done he was ready to study agriculture. He did not know where to begin with books, so he asked questions.
"Uncle Ben," he said one evening as the family was gathered around the library lamp, "how does it happen that a farmer sometimes raises tomatoes and sometimes potatoes? What does he do if he wants one rather than the other?"
"Well, George," was the laughing reply, "I think that you have much to learn before you make a successful farmer. Don't you know that if he wants potatoes he plants potatoes?"
"Why, I suppose so," said George. "Then if he desires apples, does he plant apples?"
"Hardly," said his uncle. "Seeds would be better than entire apples."
George was started and for the rest of the evening he asked no more questions, his whole attention being turned to the large encyclopedia on his knee. When next he plied his uncle with questions it was evident that he had already learned something.
"When a farmer plants a potato, he puts it in a hole and covers it up. I have read that he plows the ground first. What does he do that for?"
"For two reasons, I suppose," replied Uncle Ben. "The roots and sprouts grow better in a soil that has been softened. When the ground is unplowed, it is baked hard. Besides, plowing turns the soil over, brings new dirt to the top, and generally mixes it all together."
"Oh, yes!" said George. "Then I must learn about plowing first."
George obtained as good a knowledge of plows and tillage as was possible from books. In order fully to understand the subject, it would be necessary to see the plows and use them. But that could not come yet. The books told him that the earliest and simplest way to till the soil was with a spade. From them George learned, what most boys and girls know, what a spade was, and that a spade was all that was absolutely needed to soften the soil and prepare it for planting.
To spade a piece of ground is slow work; it is also hard work. Could not some method be devised so that the spading or tilling could be done by horses or oxen? This led to the invention of the plow. This was made thousands of years ago. The kooloo plow, still in use in India, was one of the earliest and was very rude. It was made entirely of wood, the sharp part of the plow being like a thorn in shape, but very thick and strong.
As the centuries went on, iron began to be used; and early in the history of iron it was applied to plows. They were still made of wood, but iron plates were placed over the wood, where the instrument tore into the ground. Later the plow itself was made of iron, leaving the handles still formed of wood. This iron plow would sometimes become covered with soil and so be almost useless. This was corrected by the use of steel shares instead of iron. This brought George to the modern plow.
George was not content with simply obtaining an idea about plows; he wished to know all that he could about them. He obtained books that gave complete accounts of the varieties of plows, the ways in which they were used, and the work which they should do. He learned that a plow should be fitted to its task. It should be as light as possible, easily drawn, and it should run with even steadiness, at a uniform depth. It should not only turn the soil over, but should thoroughly powder it and bury the weeds.
To his great surprise George also learned that some of the modern plows were as much superior to the ordinary plow as that was to the spade. The sulky plow is easier for the horses than the common plow; it makes furrows of different depths; and it has a seat for the farmer. Sometimes several plowshares are placed side by side and drawn by a large number of horses. This is called a gang plow. Steam and wind and water and even electricity are coming into use to furnish power for plows, in place of the animal power of horses.
"Well, Uncle Ben," said George one evening, "now I understand something about plowing and tillage. The next thing a farmer does in the spring is to plant his potatoes and corn, is it not?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"Well, then," said George, "that will not take me long to learn. All there is to do is to dig a hole, put in the potato, and cover it with earth."
"I am afraid that you will find that the job is not quite so simple as that. Has the farmer nothing to plant but potatoes?" asked the uncle.
"Yes," said the boy. "Corn and turnips and oats and wheat and pumpkins and lots of other things."
"Would you plant a kernel of corn in just the same way that you would a potato?"
"No, I suppose not," was the reply.
"And do you think that every farmer does all his planting by hand? Does he not have tools to help him?"
Thus George was started on a new line of thought. He read of the sower, as he slowly walks the length of the field, throwing the grain right and left. Even this work is better and more quickly done by machinery. The hand sower is a little machine which the farmer straps to his shoulders. The hopper of the sower is filled with grain and, as the handle is turned, the grain is scattered broadcast to as great a distance as possible. More saving of labor still is the horse sower, which is simply the hand sower on a larger scale. Sometimes the seed is inserted in the ground by means of grain drills, which deposit the grain more evenly and at the same time cover it with earth.
After learning how to sow seed, George began to inquire into the subject of planting. Many machines have been invented for this purpose which save much labor. The most important are the corn planter and the potato planter. Machines for planting other vegetables are much like these. The hand corn planter, which is used on small farms, is carried in the hand of the farmer. At each place where he wishes a hill of corn he strikes into the ground the planter, which leaves the kernels at the proper depth and covers them with soil. The horse corn planter is a form of grain drill, which does the same work as the hand planter.
The potato planter is a simple machine, though it does a variety of work. It cuts the potatoes into slices and drops them through a tube into a furrow which the plow-like part of the planter makes. The slices are dropped at regular spaces and are covered with dirt by the machine itself. In other words, the farmer puts potatoes in the hopper and drives the machine the length of the field. The planter does the rest of the work, saving the farmer the labor of slicing the potatoes, digging the hole, dropping the vegetable and covering it with earth.
All this and much more George learned during the next two weeks. Then he showed that he was ready for a new subject by asking his uncle what the farmer did between seedtime and harvest.
"I suppose," said the boy, "that most farmers get their planting done almost before summer begins. Then it must be some time before they begin to harvest the grain and dig the potatoes. What do they do all summer?"
"I think," replied his uncle, "that you will have to go into the country and see some things for yourself. As the school term is nearly finished, I believe that you must visit a good farmer and spend the summer and autumn with him. Then you will know something of a real farmer's life and work. But to answer your question by asking another, Did you ever hear of weeds?"
After that George asked few questions. He began to think that he was showing too much ignorance. From that evening until the end of June he had no thoughts but of the farm. He read but little and waited to study his subject at close hand. But he did discover that a farmer's life is not too easy in the summer. He learned that the ground must be kept free from weeds and continually loosened. He found that the farmer uses his hoe in deadly hostility to the weeds; that he makes his horse do a part of the work of hoeing; that the harrow and the cultivator keep the soil loose between the rows.
When the summer came, George felt that he had some knowledge of tillage, of sowing and planting, and of weeding; this was book knowledge. Now he hoped to get into the inside and learn something of the farmer's methods of harvesting. "Then," he thought, "I can be a farmer."
CHAPTER IV.
IMPLEMENTS FOR HARVESTING.
George awoke the first morning at the farm to hear the roosters crowing, the cows mooing, the sheep bleating, and the men cheerily whistling as they hurried about the chores. No thought of turning over for another nap entered his head, but in quick time he was dressed and ready for the morning meal. Breakfast over, George hastened out of doors and was soon eagerly watching Tom, who had been directed to cut the grass around the edges of one of the fields which had been previously mowed. Here for the first time he saw a scythe and learned its use.
For a while George watched Tom's steady swing of the scythe as he slowly cut a swath the length of the field. Then he hastened to another field where the mowing machine was steadily moving across the lot. What an improvement! What a saving of labor! How easily those knives moved through the grass, laying every spire low as soon as it was touched! How much more even the cut, though Tom was skilled with the scythe! The horses drew the machine with ease and the driver had a comfortable seat. However, it was plain that he must keep his head clear and his eyes open, to properly attend to every part of the instrument.
When noon came George was tired and heated, and he gladly remained in the house after dinner. Here he found his favorite encyclopedia and was soon hunting up the history of the invention of the mower. He was surprised to learn how short a time it had been in use. From the beginning of history the crooked sickle and the straighter scythe had been almost the only tools used for cutting grass and grain. Not until about the middle of the present century had practical mowing machines come into use. But now, except on very small or rocky farms, the horse mower is an absolute necessity.
MOWING WITH SCYTHES.
The next day George again visited the fields to see the next step in the process of making hay. First he found Tom, with a fork, turning over the grass which he had mowed the day before. Then he went to the other field, where he saw the same work being done by a machine. The mower had left the grass in heaps so that the sun could reach only the surface. It is necessary that hay should be thoroughly dried as quickly as possible. Across the field and back again went the hay tedder, its forks picking up the grass and tossing it in every direction. One horse only was needed, and the driver was a boy.
The third day George was again in the field. Once more the grass was turned. Then in the late afternoon it was prepared for the barn. Tom could only use the small hand rake, for his work was close to the fence; he was simply cleaning up what the machines had failed to reach. But in the field where George had watched the mower and the tedder, machinery and horse power were again in use. A horse went back and forth, drawing a horse rake behind him. Now and then, at regular intervals, up came the rake, a pile of hay was left, and on went the horse. Then a hay sweep passed along at right angles to the rake and soon the hay was in piles. As the field was very smooth and free from stones, a hay loader was used to place the hay upon the wagon. A boy drove the horses, two men laid the load, and soon the wagon was started for the barn. The old-fashioned, slow, hard work of lifting the hay by the forkful into the barn was no longer necessary. Hay forks, run by horse power, grappled the hay, and lifted the load. Conveyers carried the hay to the right point and dropped it in the mow.
Such was the work done during the first three days that George spent on the farm. He saw the old-fashioned hand work and the modern use of labor-saving machinery. Then he studied his books. In them he found that the hand labor of cutting, drying, and housing the hay used to cost about five dollars a ton, and that now, with the best of modern machines, it need cost not more than one dollar a ton. This machinery is of great value to the farmer and also to those who buy the hay; for the farmer can sell his hay at a lower price, since it costs him less to make it.
This was the last of the haying. For several weeks George watched the hoes and the harrows, as they kept the gardens and fields in good condition. Then came harvest-time. Potatoes were first in George's thoughts, and when he learned that they were to be dug on the morrow he was thoroughly aroused. But he met with a sore disappointment. The potatoes were not dug by machinery. The common hoe or the specially shaped potato hoe were the only tools. Then the back-aching work of picking up potatoes added to his disgust, and he declared that he never would raise many potatoes. He learned that plows sometimes help the hoes, but that potato-digging machines have never come into general use, though good ones have been invented.
At last grain harvest-time came. This was the time to which George had long looked forward. Now he could see the wheat cut and threshed. This he was sure was the best work of the farmer. But when he saw Tom take the short, crooked sickle, cut some grain with that, gather it in his arms, and tie a cord around it, he could scarcely control himself. "Is that the way grain is harvested?" he said. Then when he saw the grain laid on the barn floor and struck rapidly by flails in the hands of two men, he declared, "If that is what the farmer has to do to get a little grain, then I do not want to be a farmer."
"Well," said Mr. Miller, "that is just what all farmers had to do until within fifty years."
A REAPER AND BINDER.
But George soon saw a different method. This first hand-work had been merely to harvest a small amount of early grain; a few days later the machines were brought out. Now George was happy. At last he saw a reaping machine and a combined reaper and binder. This interested him the most. He watched the machine as the horses drew it along the edge of the standing grain. He saw the grain cut and laid upon a platform, carried up into the machine, taken by two arms called packers, gathered by them into bundles, bound by cords and thrown to the ground. What more could be asked of any machine?
And yet there is a new type of harvester that has been used in San Joaquin valley, California. It cuts a swarth fifty-two feet in width. It not only cuts the grain but it threshes it as well. It makes the sacks and fills them as it travels over the field. It is said to cut an area of a hundred acres a day, and at the same time thresh the grain and fill fifteen hundred sacks.
THE McCORMICK REAPER.
Later in the autumn came the thresher. That belonging to Farmer Miller was run by horse power. Two horses stood upon a platform, constantly stepping forward but not moving from their position. Instead the platform moved backward and this turned the machinery. The men placed the grain stalks in the hopper and the threshed grain came out of the machine, flowing into sacks, which when filled were tied by the men and set aside ready for the market.
The reaper and the thresher seemed to George the greatest of inventions. He obtained a book on inventions, and for many days he was buried in it. He read of the Englishman, Henry Ogle, whose reaper, made in 1822, aroused the anger of the working people, who threatened to kill the manufacturers if they continued to make the machines; of Patrick Bell's invention, which, though successful, was forgotten for twenty or thirty years; of Cyrus H. McCormick, the American, whose reaper first obtained a lasting success.
Most of all he was interested in the account of the first trial of reapers in England, at the time of the world's fair in 1851. What a joke it was for the London Times to poke fun at the McCormick machine, as it was exhibited in the Crystal Palace! How the great newspaper did wish that it had kept quiet when a few days later it was compelled to report the complete success of the ridiculed reaper!
The trial took place in Essex, about forty-five miles from London. Two hundred farmers were present, ready to laugh at failure or to accept any successful machine. The wheat was not ripe; the crop was heavy; and the day was rainy. The Hussey reaper was first tried but was soon clogged by the green, wet grain. The judges proposed to discontinue the trial, as the conditions were so unfavorable. But the agent of the McCormick reaper protested. His machine would work under any conditions; he wished that the gentlemen who had taken the pains to come to the trial should have a chance to see the McCormick. Accordingly it was brought forward and, in spite of everything, it went steadily forward, cutting all before it. Success was evident, and the English farmers gave three hearty cheers for the American reaping-machine.
Another trial, at which the reaper was timed, showed that it could cut twenty acres a day with ease. Even the laboring men realized that the machine would come at once into use; one, who was among the interested spectators, took the sickle, which he happened to have with him, and broke it in two across his knee; he said that he would no longer need that.
Four years later a trial took place in France also. Here three American, two English, and two French machines were tested. McCormick's reaper easily came out ahead, with the other American machines close behind. At the same time four threshing machines were tested. Six men with their flails, working as hard as they could, obtained fifty-four quarts of wheat in half an hour; the American thresher gave out six hundred and seventy-three quarts in the same time!
THRESHING WITH FLAIL.
We have spent much time on farming machinery. We must now leave George to a further study of farm life and farm work. So far he has only examined tools and machinery. He has learned from experience, however, that a modern farmer has much more than this to learn, and much work to do that cannot be done by machinery. He realizes that much study is needed to make a successful farmer. He finds that nearly every State in the Union has one or more agricultural colleges, and that the United States does its share in giving aid and information to farmers. He still desires to be a farmer, but he is glad that it is a modern farmer that he must be. He goes back to school, eager to prepare himself to enter the best agricultural college that he can find, in order that he may be ready for intelligent farming as soon as opportunity comes.
CHAPTER V.
SOIL.
A little boat was sailing along the north shore of Massachusetts bay. It was a shallop belonging to the fishing hamlet of Cape Ann. In it were Gov. Roger Conant and a few of his friends. After a sail of a dozen miles the boat was turned to the westward and entered a harbor. On it went until it reached a point of land which separated two little rivers. Upon this peninsula, which the Indians called Naumkeag, Conant landed. He walked across from one stream to the other; he carefully examined the trees, the weeds, the grass, and the remains of an Indian cornfield. Then he sailed back to the cape.
COLONISTS IN A SHALLOP.
A few weeks later Governor Conant and fourteen companions moved from Cape Ann to Naumkeag, now Salem. For three years the hamlet on the cape had been struggling for life. The colonists had at last become disheartened and had abandoned the settlement. But what better fortune could they expect at Naumkeag? Conant's study of the little peninsula had taught him that here was a fertile soil from which he could raise food enough for the colonists. Cape Ann had not proved fertile. It was a "stern and rock-bound coast." The entire cape seemed to be one vast ledge of granite rock, and only here and there could grain and vegetables be grown.
The settlement of Salem was four years earlier than that of Boston, and but six years after the Pilgrims arrived in Plymouth. Thus early in the history of the colonies was it found necessary to seek fertile soils for settlements. As these grew and the number of the colonists increased, the need of more land and better soil became apparent. Ten years after Conant went to Naumkeag, the population of three entire towns near Boston moved, through woods, over hills and valleys, and across streams, to the fertile valley of the Connecticut River. Farms spread out in every direction until, before the middle of the eighteenth century, nearly all of southern New England was dotted with them.
The French and Indian War came, and at its close the valley of the Ohio River was placed in the hands of the English. Then followed the American Revolution, and the Northwest Territory became a part of the United States. The New England farmers had become crowded by this time, and many were eager for more land. A new migration followed. Farmers from New England, New York, and Pennsylvania began to journey westward and to settle the Northwest Territory. Ohio soon had sufficient population to be made a State. Indiana and Illinois followed, then Michigan and Wisconsin. Meanwhile the United States purchased the great province of Louisiana, and Iowa, Minnesota, and Nebraska were settled by the Eastern farmers and others who had come across the ocean from Europe.
Never in the history of the world had there been such a rapid settlement of new lands. It has continued even up to the present time. A few years ago the new territory of Oklahoma was opened to farmers, and its growth has been remarkable.
The principal reason for this rapid settlement of Western land may be found in the excellent character of the soil. For ages it had lain uncultivated, waiting for the coming of the white man. Unlike the rocky portions of New England, the ground seldom contains a large stone. Unlike the hills and valleys of the coast States, the interior territory is prairie land, level as far as the eye can see. Here the gang plows can be run; here the mowing machines and the mammoth harvesters can be used to great advantage.
Thus grew the northern part of the United States. In the South the westward movement was not so rapid. The conditions of agriculture were different. The climate of South Carolina was unlike that of Massachusetts; the cold of New York was unknown in Georgia. In New England small farms were the rule; on these the work was done by the owner, with the aid of his sons or perhaps a hired man or two. In Virginia large plantations were common; here the proprietor lived at his ease and the land was cultivated by slaves. In Connecticut the crops raised were used for the most part by the farmer's family or sold in the immediate neighborhood. In North Carolina the products of the plantations were exported in great quantities.
In time, however, these Southern people became dissatisfied with their early territory, as their Northern brothers had been, and gradually new States were formed to the westward. Kentucky and Tennessee were followed by Louisiana; Alabama and Mississippi were formed on one side of the great river, but a few years before Missouri and Arkansas were on the other. State after State was admitted to the Union as soon as a sufficient number of people had flocked into them, and the number of Territories was steadily diminishing.
At the farther end of the continent, the Oregon country, saved to us by the heroism of Dr. Marcus Whitman, added a large territory of extremely fertile soil. South of Oregon the great State of California was added to the Union, as a result of Marshall's discovery of gold at Sutter's Fort. Yet California to-day is a State for the farmer as well as the miner. Thus finally, the Atlantic coast, the region of the Great Lakes, the Ohio valley, the Gulf States, the valley of the "Father of Waters," and the Pacific slope—in fact, almost all sections of the United States—were well peopled by farmers, drawing from the rich virgin soil immense crops of food, more than sufficient for our own people.
But we were not satisfied. In the very heart of the country, between Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas on the east, and California, Oregon, and Washington on the west, lay a great region which had no attractions for the farmer. Let him properly plow and cultivate the soil, let him add to it soil-food or fertilizers as much as he pleases, let the spring and the summer come, and let the hot sun add its part to change the seed into growing grain—in spite of all the farmer's efforts no crop could be obtained. The grain dried up almost as soon as planted. There was no water. For month after month no rain fell upon this region. It was called the "Great American Desert."
The first attempt to make this desert soil yield a suitable return for the labor of the farmer was made at Salt Lake City. Fifty years ago a band of earnest men braved cold and famine, and the even more deadly Indians, crossed the great region west of the Mississippi River, and made a settlement in the very midst of the desert country. To-day the desert of Utah blooms like a garden; the soil is fertile and yields large returns to the industrious inhabitants. What has made the change? Nothing but water.
AN IRRIGATING TRENCH.
If the heavens refuse to send rain to moisten the parched ground, cannot the needed water be obtained in some other way? The pioneer settlers of Salt Lake led the way in teaching mankind that the ground may be irrigated by human means. Water may be carried to the fields where, flowing along the surface of the ground, it soaks in until it reaches the roots of the crops. The water may be pumped out of the ground or it may be brought from the mountains in trenches or pipes. This method of helping nature by providing water where rain is scarce is called irrigation.
In the same way many other sections of the great West have been reclaimed. Southern California, formerly fit only for the raising of vast herds of cattle, is now the great orchard of the country. Large portions of New Mexico and Arizona now add to the general stock of food. Irrigation bids fair to be of vast benefit to the country as, little by little, barren lands are rendered fertile.
At present the principal grain region of our country is the great Northwest, the twelve States west of Pennsylvania. The principal grain is corn, and two-thirds of the entire crop of this country is grown in the seven States of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, and Missouri. The banner corn State is Iowa.
The wheat crop is more valuable to the world than the corn. The United States raises one-quarter of all the wheat grown in the world, and the great Northwest produces two-thirds of that. Wheat can be profitably raised in a cooler climate than is suitable for corn; therefore the five Northern States Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North and South Dakota add their quota to the wheat grown in the seven great corn States. Minnesota leads in the production of wheat. Not all the wheat comes from this region, however, for two Pacific States, California and Oregon, produce one-eighth of the entire crop of our country, and Pennsylvania gives a large share.
A RICE FIELD.
Iowa leads in the production of oats as well as of corn; more than two-thirds of the oat crop comes from the Northwest. New York and Pennsylvania add their quota, about one-eighth of the total crop. The Northwest thus provides two-thirds of the grain, on much less than one-half of the cultivated land of the United States.
Though grain is the great agricultural product, it is not the only crop that we raise in large quantities. Ten of the Southern States furnish each year more than sixty thousand tons of rice, a large portion of which comes from Louisiana and South Carolina.
The United States is just beginning to take rank as a sugar-producing country. We now raise about one-eighth of the sugar that we use each year. At present most of the sugar comes from sugar cane, which is grown mainly in Louisiana; but the central States and California have recently begun the manufacture of sugar from beets, and beet-growing is becoming an important industry. The recent annexation of islands in the West Indies and the Pacific Ocean greatly increases our sugar production.
Two other crops which are obtained from the soil must not be forgotten, although they are neither of them foods. The Gulf States furnish nine-elevenths of all the cotton raised in the world, and the States north of them produce a large portion of the world's tobacco. Kentucky leads in the production of the latter staple, raising each year nearly one-half of the tobacco grown in the United States.
Grain, cotton, tobacco, rice, and sugar are the main products of the soil in the United States. Each of these is produced in its own special region, depending upon the character of the soil and the climate. The value of our agricultural exports is rapidly increasing, and the world is looking more and more to the United States to furnish a large part of the food necessary for all mankind.
CHAPTER VI.
A MODERN DINNER.
George Baxter and his wife returned to New York, after a winter spent in California just a week before Mrs. Baxter's sister and her husband were preparing to start for a second summer in Europe. A third sister, Alice Smith, decided to give the travelers a small dinner, to which only the family should be invited.
A DINNER PARTY.
When the evening arrived, eleven members of the Atwood family gathered about the table in Mr. Smith's capacious dining room, the seat of honor being given to the mother, Mrs. Atwood. Besides the three married couples, Frank and Alice Smith, Albert and Mary Fremont, and George and Lucy Baxter, there were the four unmarried children. James, the oldest son, was a banker in the city; Walter, next younger than Lucy, was a student fitting for Columbia University; Fred and Mabel were still classed as school children.
After the trim waiter had brought on the soup, the moment's quiet was broken by George Baxter, who said to the hostess: "How good to get back to New York once more, if only to get a soup that one can eat without burning the mouth with the sharp condiments. You have no seasoning at all in the soup, have you, Alice?"
"Oh, yes," replied the hostess," it is a very simple soup, but there is the usual pepper and salt. What have you been in the habit of having?"
"I am sure that I could tell what we did not have in some of our Mexican soups much easier than what we did have. I should think that there must have been both kinds of pepper, ginger, garlic, mustard, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, and everything else. I cannot understand why people living in the tropics want to season their food with such hot stuff."
"What do you mean by two kinds of pepper, brother George?" asked Mabel.
"Cayenne pepper and black pepper," was the reply.
"Oh, yes, I know!" said Fred. "Cayenne pepper comes from Cayenne in French Guiana. But where do we get black pepper?"
"Nearly all of it comes from Sumatra," said Mary. "Do you know where Sumatra is, Mabel?"
"Sumatra is one of the large islands south and southeast of Asia, which are called the East Indies," replied the schoolgirl.
The conversation had now become general, and Mr. Smith called attention to the distance that these condiments travel in reaching us.
"Sumatra is almost exactly on the opposite side of the earth from us," said he. "Fred, how would the black pepper be brought to New York from Sumatra?"
"Across the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea, through the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean Sea, I suppose. But I do not know whether it would then come straight across the Atlantic Ocean, or first go to England."
"Usually," said Mr. Smith," it would go to England first."
"Alice," broke in Mabel," what else is in the soup beside pepper? Oh, I know, salt. Is salt also brought half-way round the world?"
"I know where salt comes from," said Fred;" up State. It is dug out of the ground near Syracuse."
"That is right, Fred," said James. "But New York State does not supply all the salt used in this country. For years many ships and barks have come yearly into Gloucester harbor from Sicily, bringing salt for the fishing-schooners. Steamers even are being used to bring salt from the Mediterranean Sea, in order that the Gloucester fishermen may send salt fish all over our country."
"We must not forget," said Mrs. Smith, "that there is rice in our soup also. That comes from South Carolina."
Just then the plates were removed and the fish was brought on.
"This is a rarity," said the hostess. "Can you tell us what it is, James?"
"I think so. It is halibut, is it not?"
"Why do you call it a rarity?" asked Mary.
"This halibut came from the Grand Banks," said Mrs. Smith. "I do not understand how they get it here so fresh."
James, who seemed to be quite familiar with the Gloucester fisheries, said: "The fishermen brought their load of halibut to the Gloucester wharves last night and immediately loaded it upon the Boston steamer. Three o'clock in the morning was its time for sailing, and at six it was being unloaded in Boston. The six-hour trains brought some of it to New York in time for our dinner."
LOADING FISH AT GLOUCESTER.
"Steamers and railroad trains seem necessary for our dinner, do they not?" said Albert. "But this fish sauce contains only articles from nearer home, I am sure."
"Do not be too certain of that," said Mr. Smith. "Alice, what is there in this sauce?"
"First, there are eggs."
"Those came from our Long Island farm, of course," said her husband.
"Then there is olive oil."
"That comes from Italy," said Mr. Smith. "That is not a home product. The olives that you are eating are, of course, from Italy also."
"I doubt that," said George. "I was just about to remark that these olives had come from California. I can easily detect the taste."
"Yes, "the hostess added. "These olives I bought just to see if George and Lucy would notice that they were not our usual queen olives. They are said to have come from Pomona."
"That is a great olive center," said George.
"What else is there in the sauce, Alice?" asked her husband.
"Pepper and salt, vinegar——"
"Cider vinegar, I suppose," broke in Mrs. Baxter. "How much nicer apple vinegar is than grape vinegar! Most of the vinegar that we had in California was made from wine. That State is becoming a great grape-producing region. But do you know, Frank, where the apples were grown?"
"No," said Mr. Smith, "but probably they were raised either in Vermont or New Hampshire. Last year the New York apple orchards gave but a poor yield, while those of New England did much better. Probably this season will prove an off year for Vermont apples, but we shall have all that we can use in our own State."
"A little lemon ends the list," said the hostess.
"Lemons from Sicily, I suppose," remarked Mr. Baxter. "Have you tried the California lemons yet?"
"Yes," said Mr. Smith. "We can sometimes get very fine lemons from California, but not always. If the growers of lemons were more particular about the quality of the fruit that they send out, there would be a better trade in California lemons."
While this conversation was going on, the fish was removed and a roast of beef was placed on the table, and with it the vegetables. The different members of the family had become quite interested in the discussion by this time, and it was continued as a matter of course.
"This is a good piece of beef," remarked James Atwood. "What are we going to do for meat when the natural increase in the amount of land devoted to cultivation uses up all the grazing regions?"
"You need not fret about that," said Mr. Baxter; "that will not come in your day. You ought to take a trip through Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, through Wyoming and Montana, or other sections of the Rocky Mountain region, and you would not fear for our cattle-raising interests."
"Here, again, the railroads are important," said Mr. Fremont. "What numbers of long freight trains daily come east, loaded with cattle for New York and Boston, and even for Great Britain and the Continent. The European consumption of our cattle is of great and rapidly growing importance."
A CATTLE TRAIN.
"These new potatoes came from the Bermudas," remarked the host.
"And the peas from Maryland," added the hostess. "Do you not think that these are remarkably fresh after having been brought so far?"
"How about the lettuce?" asked James. "That must have come from some greenhouse."
"Without doubt, though I did not inquire," replied Mrs. Smith.
Not willing to leave anything out of the conversation, Mabel here inquired about the macaroni and tomatoes.
"The macaroni comes from Italy," replied her sister Mary. "Much of it is shipped from Genoa, the city which claims to have been the birthplace of Columbus. You would find it interesting, Mabel, to read about the production and preparation of macaroni."
"The tomatoes were canned on our farm last autumn," said Mrs. Smith. "We think them much superior to any that we can buy."
After this the conversation turned upon the bread. There were two kinds, white and brown. One of the ladies remarked that she never ate white bread; bread from whole wheat flour was so much more wholesome. Another said that graham bread was good enough for her. They talked about the white flour, made in Minneapolis, from Dakota wheat. They spoke of the Indian meal made from corn grown in Iowa. They wondered why so little rye was used in this country, since it is the staple grain in Russia. They then inquired concerning the other substances used in making the two kinds of bread.
"Where does the butter come from?" asked Mrs. Fremont.
"This particular box is marked from Delaware County, New York," replied the hostess. "Most of the creameries that send butter to New York City are located at some distance from the railroads. The farms nearer the railroads send all their milk to the city. But the farmers that are too remote profitably to send in the milk make the cream into butter and cheese. They then feed the buttermilk to the pigs."
"That is a new thought to me," said James. "So it seems that some products are made only where there are no railroads."
"Or where there is no great city within a few hundred miles," added Walter.
"I suppose there is molasses in this brown bread," said Lucy Baxter.
"Molasses comes from Porto Rico," said Mabel, who was studying the West Indies just at this time in her geography lessons at school.
"Some of it," said her oldest sister. "But most of the sugar comes from Cuba."
"But not all," said James. "This sugar has been traveling for nearly two weeks to reach New York. First a sea voyage of more than two thousand miles, and then a railroad journey of more than three thousand miles, and yet the section where it grew is a part of the United States."
"It must have come from Honolulu then," said Walter. "I wonder whether the Sandwich Islands, being now a part of the United States, will interfere with the raising of sugar cane in our Southern States?"
"Very little probably, but now that the United States possesses Hawaii and Porto Rico, it will scarcely be necessary for us to import any sugar and molasses," said Fred.
When the dessert and fruit were brought on, new subjects for conversation were found.
"What do you call this pudding, Alice?" asked her husband.
"It is a peach-tapioca pudding," was the reply. "The peaches are from Delaware; canned, of course."
"Here, again, the West Indies are represented," said James; "the tapioca came from Hayti."
"And the East Indies also," added Walter, "for I taste nutmeg, which comes from the Molucca Islands. These islands furnish such an amount of spice that they are commonly called the Spice Islands."
The discussion of foods continued throughout the dinner. The oranges, almost the last of the season, had been brought from California. Florida oranges were scarce that year. The bananas were from Mexico and almost a luxury. The war with Spain had destroyed trade with Cuba, from which island the great bulk of bananas had usually come.
Among the nuts were almonds that had been imported from Italy, filberts that had been sent across the ocean from England, and walnuts that had come from California. Finally the coffee was from the island of Java.
DRYING COFFEE IN JAVA.
Before the dinner party broke up, Mr. Smith reviewed the facts which had been learned in the conversation. He especially called attention to the small number of articles that are not profitably raised in the United States.
"We should miss our coffee very much," he said, "if our country were blockaded at any time. The loss of the banana would be the loss of a luxury. Had we no macaroni or tapioca we should still have enough to eat. Perhaps our taste would become more natural were we deprived of pepper. No other of the foods on this table should we be entirely deprived of, even were we separated wholly from the rest of the world. California could furnish us with olives, lemons, and almonds, as well as Italy does. We need not go to England for filberts, and even if we had not of late obtained new colonies, we could produce in time all the sugar we needed to supply the entire country. No other nation in the world is so well prepared to furnish its own food."
ELI WHITNEY.
A QUILTING BEE IN THE OLDEN TIME.