Our Farm of Four Acres and the Money we Made by it Part 5

As our ground became productive we added another cow, and more pigs and poultry, but I shall not now say with what success. This little book in only intended for the novice in farming, and details only the results of the first six months of our "farm of four acres."

Perhaps I should have called it _five_ acres, as nearly the whole of the acre of kitchen-garden was devoted to the cultivation of food for our "stock."

We had a very broad sunny border at the back of the flower-garden, which grew nearly all the spring and summer vegetables we required: such as seakale, early potatoes, peas cauliflowers, and salads.

We have not yet said anything of the money we saved by our kitchen-garden, but we must add to the profits of our six months'

farming the average amount we should have paid to a green-grocer for fruit and vegetables.

Twenty-five cents a day to supply thirteen persons with these necessary articles is certainly not more than must have been expended.

Still, $90 per annum is a considerable item of household expenditure, and scanty would have been the supply it would have furnished; as it was we had a profusion of fruit of all kinds, from the humble gooseberry and currant to the finest peaches, nectarines, and hothouse grapes, as well as an abundant supply of walnuts and filberts.

Had we bought all the produce of our garden, the value would have more than paid our gardener's wages.

Nor must I omit the luxury of having beautiful flowers from the greenhouse throughout the winter; these superfluous items did not figure in our accounts. We should have purchased but bare necessaries, and therefore entered but twenty-five cents a day for "garden stuff"

in our housekeeping book.

Those only who have lived in the country can appreciate the luxury of not only having fruit and vegetables in abundance, but of having them fresh. Early potatoes fresh dug, peas fresh gathered, salad fresh cut, and fruit plucked just before it makes its appearance at table, are things which cannot be purchased by the wealthiest residents in a great city.

Not far from our residence there were large grounds, which were cultivated with fruit and vegetables for the London market. I have frequently seen the wagons packed for Covent Garden. The freshest that can be procured there would be considered "stale" in the neighborhood in which they were grown. Any fruit or vegetables in that far-famed market must have been gathered twenty-four hours before they could find their way into the kitchen of the consumer; and it is not only the time which has elapsed, but the manner in which they are packed, which so much deteriorates their quality.

Have any of our readers ever seen the densely-loaded wagons which enter that market? The vegetables are wedged as closely together as they can be pressed, which very soon causes, in warm weather, cabbages, greens, &c., to ferment and become unwholesome. I have often seen them so loaded in the middle of the day before they reached London. They are left in the hot sun till the time arrives, when the horses are placed in them, and they begin their slow journey towards town. This is seldom till late at night when the distance does not exceed a dozen miles.

The finer kinds of fruit such as peaches, grapes, etc., do not injure so much by being kept a few days before the are eaten; indeed, _ripe_ peaches and nectarines are seldom gathered for sale: they would spoil too quickly to enable the fruiterer to realize much profit. They are plucked when quite hard, and then placed in boxes till they gradually _soften_; but the flavor of fruit thus treated is very inferior to that of a peach or nectarine ripened by the sun. Seed-fruits, such as strawberries, come very vapid in four or five hours after they have been picked, if they were then quite ripe.

I know that the last few pages have nothing to do with "the money we made" by our farm, but I wish to show the reader all the advantages which a country residence possess over a town one. Some persons, who cannot live without excitement, think that nothing can compensate for the want of amus.e.m.e.nt and society.

I was once speaking of the pleasure I experienced from residing in the country, and placed _health_ among its many advantages, when I was answered, "It is better to die in London than live in the country!"

I think I have said enough to cause my lady readers to wish that the time may not be far distant when they may, like ourselves,--for we did all sorts of "odd jobs" in our garden,--cut their own asparagus, and a.s.sist in gathering their own peas.

It is indeed impossible to over-estimate the value of a kitchen-garden in a large family which numbers many children among its members.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MONEY WE MADE.

Some time ago we showed our first six months' accounts to a friend, who was very sceptical as to the profit we always told him we made by our farming. After he had looked over our figures, he said,--

"Well! And after all, what have you made by your b.u.t.ter-making, pig-killing, and fowl-slaughtering?"

"What have we made?" said I, indignantly. "Why, don't you see that, from July to January, we realized a profit of $9 50 from our cows, $11 12 from our pigs, $9 67 from our poultry-yard, and $45 at the least from our kitchen-garden, which, altogether, amounts to no less a sum than $145 29; and all this in our 'salad-days, when we were green in judgment?' What shall we not make now that we have more stock, our ground well cropped, and, better still, have gained so much experience?"

"Well," said our friend, "the more 'stock,' as you call it, you have, the more money you will lose."

At this rejoinder, H. looked at the speaker as if she thought he had "eaten of the insane root, which takes the reason prisoner."

"_Lose more money_!" when you can yourself see, by looking at this book, that in our first six months we have cleared $145 29! And, indeed, it was absurd of A. to put down so little, for she has allowed $25 for the land; and if she take that off the rent, she ought to enter it as profit from the "farm." Besides, think of only putting down a s.h.i.+lling a day for fruit and vegetables! Very few puddings would the children get at that rate, supposing we were in London."

"If we were in London," interrupted I, "you know that $90 yearly would be as much as we could afford to expend for that item in our family. I have made out all our farming accounts as fairly as I can. I am as well aware as you can be that a s.h.i.+lling a day would not give us the luxuries of the garden as we now have them; and though that plenty may form one of the advantages of residing in the country, we have no right to put down as a saving of money the value of articles we should never have thought of purchasing."

"I must allow," said Mr. N., "that you appear to have been strictly honest in your entries as regards the value of the produce you have received, but you do not appear to have put down your losses. You keep a one-sided ledger. You have the credit, but not the debit entry. You say nothing of the money you have lost by pigeons and rabbit-keeping."

Now the utmost we had lost by our pigeons in the six months was $2 25, and he knew perfectly well how profitable they had since been to us.

He used jokingly to say, that we fed our guest with them in every mode of cookery so frequently, that they would alter the old grace of "for rabbits hot," &c., and subst.i.tute the word "pigeon" in its place; so we thought it was ungenerous to reproach the poor birds with the scanty number they gave us the first few weeks they were in our dove-cote.

Silenced on that point, he returned to our unfortunate rabbit speculation, and complained that we had kept no account of the money we had lost by them.

Here H. stopped him saying,

"Pray, Mr. N., did you not purchase your children a pony, and did it not catch cold and die in a month afterwards? I suppose Mrs. N. did not enter that in her housekeeper's book as meat at so much a pound, and why should we put down the cost of the rabbits in our farming accounts? No; of course it was entered among the 'sundries.'"

"But you must allow," said Mr. N., "that if you had done as I advised you, and taken a house in a street leading into one of the squares, you would have lived more cheaply than here. Why, your gardener's wages must more than swallow up any profit which you may _think_ you make from your farm. You must acknowledge you would have saved that expense."

"Granted," said I; "but we should most likely have paid quite as much to a doctor. We never got through a year in town without a heavy bill to one; and we must have had all the expense and trouble of taking the children out of town during the hot weather, while the have had excellent health ever since they have been here; and with the exception, when some kind friend like yourself has asked one of them on a visit, neither of them has left home since we came here. Of one thing I am quite sure, that we are much happier than we should have been in London; and that in every point of view, as regards expenditure, we are gainers. I have not entered any profit arising from baking at home, though the difference is just three four-pound loaves weekly; and Mrs. N. will tell you what must be the saving by our having our own laundry."

"Enough! enough!" said Mr. N., laughingly; "your evidence is overwhelming. You almost force me to believe that I could live in the country, feed my own pork, and drink my own milk, without paying half a crown a pound for the one or a s.h.i.+lling a quart for the other, and this was what I never before believed possible; and I am quite sure, that if I were to put the a.s.sertion in a book, no one would believe me."

"Then," exclaimed I, "it shall be a.s.serted in a book whenever I can find time to transcribe all the particulars from my diary; and I hope that I may be able to convince my readers--should I be fortunate enough to obtain any--not only that they may keep cows, pigs, and poultry without loss, but that they may derive health, recreation, and profit from doing so. None know better than yourself how worn-out in health and spirits we were when we came to this place; how oppressed with cares and anxieties. Without occupation, we should most likely have become habitual invalids, real or fancied; without some inducement to be out of doors, we should seldom have exerted ourselves to take the exercise necessary to restore us to health and strength.

But you will lose your train, if I keep you longer listening to the benefits we have experienced by our residence in this place. Give the fruit and flowers to Mrs. N. with our love; and tell her, that with G.o.d's blessing we have improved in 'mind, body, and estate,' by occupying ourselves with 'our farm of four acres.'"

CHAPTER XIV.

THE NEXT SIX MONTHS.

It was not my intention when I commenced this little work to do more than give our first six months' experience in farming our four acres of land; but as perhaps the reader may think that time hardly sufficient to form a correct opinion of the advantages to be derived from a residence in the country, I think it as well to add some particulars relating to the following six months.

In the spring came a new source of profit and amus.e.m.e.nt. We commenced our labors in the poultry-yard in February, by setting a hen on thirteen eggs, which, early in March, produced the same number of chickens: these were all ready for the table in the middle of May. At that time we could not have purchased them under $1 50 the couple.

The cost of thirty-eight chickens till ready to kill was $4 37. We always knew exactly the expense attending the poultry, because we had a separate book from the miller, in which every article was entered as it came into the house; and as the chickens were kept distinct from the other fowls, I could tell the exact sum they had cost us when they made their appearance at table.

The first thing that was given them to eat was egg, boiled quite hard, chopped very fine, and mixed with bread-crumbs. After that they had groats. I find they consumed:

Three quarts of whole groats . . . . . $ 37 Two bushels of barley . . . . . . . . 2 25 One bushel of middlings . . . . . . . 1 12 Twenty-five lbs. of chicken-rice . . . 63 Making altogether . . . . $4 37

The reader must be told that those thirty-eight chickens had other things to eat than those I have put down; they had nearly all the sc.r.a.ps from the house, consisting of cold potatoes, bits of meat, pudding, &c., and any pieces of bread which were left at table were soaked in skim-milk; and the rice was also boiled in it. O course, in a smaller family there would not have been so many "sc.r.a.ps" for them; but, however strict you may be with children, you cannot prevent their leaving remnants on their plates, all of which would have been wasted had it not been for the chickens and pig-tub.

We were not so fortunate with the ducks. We did not keep any through the winter, consequently we had to purchase the eggs, which were placed under hens; for those eggs we paid four cents each, and out of thirteen, which was the number given to each hen, we never reared more than eight ducks.

Thus, in the first instance, they cost us six cents each; and they were likewise more expensive to feed than the chickens. They were never fit for the table till they had cost us sixty-three cents the couple. One reason of this was, that as the chickens had all the waste bids, they had nothing but what was bought for them; but then they were such ducks as could not have been purchased at the poulterers'.

We never killed one unless it weighed four pounds; they used to be brought in at night, and placed in the scale: if it was the weight I have mentioned it was killed, if not it was respited till it did so.

At first we tried cooping them to fatten, but found it did not answer, as they moped and refused to eat by themselves; so we abandoned that plan, and were content to let them run in the meadows till fit to kill, which was not till they were three months old. They were never "fat," but very meaty, and fine flavored,--not in the least like those which are bought, which, however fat they may appear before they are cooked, come to table half the size they were when put down to the fire.

I remember being rather puzzled once when resident in London. I wanted a particularly fine couple of ducks for a "company dinner," and went myself to the shop where I dealt to order them.

"Now, Mrs. Todd," said I, "the ducks I require are not fat ducks, but meaty ones; the last I had from you had nothing on them when they came to table, though they looked so plump when you sent them."