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Address, S. A. CUNNINGHAM.
The Ensilage of Maize.
From the Dixie Farmer.
Many of your readers have, doubtless,
seen frequent mention in the agricultural
papeis of late of the term at the head of
this article. Many, however, perhaps have
not; and, therefore, in order to make an
account of a successful experiment at the
college farm more intelligible, a few words
as to the history and nature of the new
process, “The ensilage of maize,” are pre
requisite to a correct estimate of the value
of the experiment.
The term “ ensilage ” is derived from the
two French words, “ en ” and “ silo,” (a pit
or excavation), and the “ensilage of maize”
is the process of preserving, in a fresh, ab
solutely unchanged condition, Indian corn,
or maize, in silos, or pits. The process,
however, can be, and is, applied to other
green crops besides maize. Although re
cently developed and perfected, it is by no
means anew discovery. Many farmers in
this country have successfully preserved
partially cured, or nearly green, clover by
stacking it, layer by layer, with straw.
Such methods are frequently referred to in
agricultural works, and are especially men
tioned by Stephens in his large work on
“ The Farm.” In Switzerland green forage
has long been kept fresh for months by
packing it down tightly in vats and flood
ing it with water to prevent the access of
air. But to M. Goffart, a Frenchman, un
doubtedly belongs the honor of having first
developed and perfected this process. His
Government, as a reward, bestowed upon
him the highest decoration of the State,
the badge of the Legion of Honor. This
fact is proof conclusive of the great prac
tical value of the new process. Its agricul
tural importance, however, demands fur
ther notice here.
From the latest American translation
(1879, by J. B. Brown) of M. Goffart’s
work, “The Ensilage of Maize,” (Paris,
1877,) —a work singularly crude and ill
digested, and thoroughly French in its naive
and egotism, and only valuable for its ap
pendix—l extract the following summary :
Commencing his experiments more than
thirty years ago, M. Goffart has, for a quar
ter of a century past, labored to develope a
system by which green food can be success
fully preserved. After “ thousands of ex
periments” (to use his own words), involv
ing a large expenditure of time, labor, and
money, —after innumerable failures and
blunders, often repeated, but as often hon
estly admitted and patiently corrected, he
claims to have at last found a process by
which an abundant supply of green, fresh
food, more palatable and digestible than
when first taken from the field, is insured
for the entire year, if need be. His silos
are elliptical in shape, with vertical walls
and of large size, built of brick, cemented
within, and covered with open, shed roofs.
Along side of the silo, a powerful cutter is
stationed, furnished with an elevator to
carry up the cut fodder over the wails of
the silo. The corn is cut and immediately
carted to the silo, where it is first passed
through the cutter, by which it is sliced
into disks three-tenths of an inch in length.
From thence it is carried up by the elevator
and delivered in the silo, in which it is
carefully packed away by the continuous
trampling of two or three men. The silo,
when filled, is covered with straw ; across
this loosely-fitting boards are laid, and Gn
these weights (stones or old iron), to the
amount of about one thousand pounds to
the square yard, are placed. The whole
secret of the process, if secret there be, lies
in the thorough exclusion of the air from
the mass. This enormous weight secures a
continuous descending pressure, the sine
qua non of success. In fact, M. Goffart re
gards this continuous pressure as the “final
solution of the problem.” His latest theory
is that the com, or other fodder, is pre
served in this silo in an absolutely unchanged
condition ; ihat it comes out unaltered, in
sipid to the taste, and that not until after
about twelve hours’ exposure to the air,
when alcoholic fermentation sets in, does it
become palatable and fit for food. This
fermentation, he asserts, “ increases the
facility of digestion, and, therefore, the
nutritive, or assimilative, power of the
food.” He shows his faith by his works,
for this ensilage is his chief dependence for
cattle food.
The cost of gathering and ensilaging the
maize he estimates (giving the figures) at
twenty cents per ton. As the cutting of all
long forage is, at all times, advisible, as it
economizes food, and, as by this process the
food is already cut ready for use, some de
duction from these estimates might be safely
made. The majority of French agricul
turists claim that three hundred pounds of
this ensilage are fully equal to one hun
dred pounds of the best meadow hay.
Many go further, and claim that two hun
dred pounds are possessed of equal nutri
tive value. M. Goffart has averaged (and
that on his entire farm) forty tons of corn
per acre for five years past.
Morris, of Maryland, who has suc
cessfully experimented on this subject —
who feeds about one thousand head of cat-
tle, and whose letter gives to the appendix
of Brown’s translation its chief value —
claims that, with skill, fifty tons of green
corn per acre can be easily grown. “ With
extra care and labor,” he remarks, “ I am
almost afraid to stale the quantity that can
be raised per acre.” tons of hay per
acre is a heavy yield. The land that will
produce one and a half tons of hay per
acre will as easily yield thirty tons of corn
fodder, and yet the ensilaging of these thirty
tons makes them equal, in nutritive value,
to at least ten tons of the best hay.
Since he has “solved his problem” M.
Goffart has more than doubled the number
of his cattle, the area of his farm (at So
loyne, where the soil is thin) remaining the
same. Col. Morris asks, “ where is the
stock to feed upon the new supply of food?”
When it is known that corn in the West In
dies attains the height of thirty feet, and
that it can be grown and specially devel
oped as well for its stem and foliage-pro
ducing qualities as for its grain producing ;
he may well ask this question. But any in
telligent farmer can draw his own conclu
sions from such facts, and judge for himself
of the promise and value of this new pro
cess.
As I did not entor upon the discharge of
my duties here or take charge of the Col
lege Farm until the first of September last,
my experiment was necessarily hurried and
rough, owing to the limited time and means
at my command. A pit was prepared on
the north side of a small grove, on the edge
of a dry knoll, eleven feet long, eight feet
wide and six feet deep. It was neither
bricked up nor cemented; by means of the
long continued drought the corn at the time
of cutting—at the first appearance of the
shoots or ears—was dry and wilted. It was
cut with sickles, about the middle of Sep
tember, and immediately carted to the pit,
after being weighed. It was carefully laid
lengthwise in the pit and packed down
layer by layer. The mass was car
ried up in a vertical manner six
feet above the surface of the ground in
order to allow for its settling. About four
feet of dirt was then thrown on the top and
it was allowed to stand for twenty-four
hours. By that time the mass had settled
down almost to the surface. It was then
carefully tramped, fresh soil thrown on it
and the sides covered. A rough shed was
made to protect it from the weather; the
pit was closely watched and all cracks cov
ered up ; it held 3,000 pounds of green fod
der. When opened on the 13th of Decem
ber last, after being in the pit three months
the mass was found to be sound and fresh,
but slightly changed in appearance, the
edges and tops alone to the depth of two or
three inches being damaged. Only a sec
tion of the pit was uncovered ; the fodder
when offered to cattle was greedily eaten by
them. After short exposure to the air the
alcoholic fermentation sets in, and it is
then apparently greatly relished by all
kinds of stock. It has been fed for the last
month to the milk cows along with dry food
with the most satisfactory results, and gives
promise of keeping for some time yet.
From the result of this experiment and
from the evidence before me, I feel justified
in asserting that the practical value of M
Loffart’s discovery cannot well be overesti
mated. It is possessed of the highest agri
cultural promise, and it is one that bids fair
to revolutionize some of the leading
branches of agriculture. It is in fine one
of the most important our century has wit
nessed, and the farmers of our day may yet
inscribe on the silos of Goffart the words of
the Latin poet, as the embodiment of their
verdict —a verdict his vanity forced him to
forestall: “ Exegi monumentum acre peren
nis.” J. M. Mcßryde.
Prof. Agr. Hort. and Bot.
University of Tenn., Knoxville, Jau. 16, 1880.
—“No sir?” thundered the old farmer to
a man soliciting his subscription to a news
paper. “Don’t want no paper around here.
It’s a waste of money. Catch me fooling
away two dollars a year on a newspaper
I never read ’em and my folks never does,
nuther.” Then he turned to the bogus
barb-wire fence agent, who was patiently
sitting by, and told him he might put a
cheap fence around his farm, and he signed
the contract which the agent presented lo
him with scarcely a glance. But when, in
a few months, the contract turned up again,
the old farmer was horrified to find that in
some manner it had changed into a note of
hand for SSOO, and he had to p a y iL too.
But he “doesn’t read any paper.”— Exchange.
How to Milk. —This may seem absurd
advice to offer to farmers, but our experi
ence has shown ug that every farmer does
not know how to milk properly, or, rather,
that he does not always carry out the
knowledge he may have. In the first place,
never allow the hands or udder to be wet
with milk before milking. When ready to
milk, take the pail on the left arm, and with
both hands brush off every bit of dust and
all particles of bedding from the cow’s
udder. If the udder is not readily cleaned
in this way, use a sponge and warm water.
Milk quickly, and allow no unpracticed
hand at the cow, unless you intend to dry
the animal. Above all, milk clean. Avery
little inattention here will soon render a
valuable cow unremunerative in the dairy.
The President of the California State
Vinicultural Society has reported <50,000
acres covered with vineyards, numbering
45,000,000 vines, and representing, with the
land, a capital of $30,000,000.
No sprain can be cured without abso
lute and entire rest.
—The Drew temperance reform is pro
gressing finely in Savannah.
CARTERSVILLE, GA., FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1880.
William Arp On Gates.
From the Dixie Farmer.
Maybe I have struck my talent, and it is
making gates. I reckon most every Dixie
farmer has made agate,and maybe a better
gate than mine; but I don’t know of any
so good and so cheap in this neighborhood.
I haven’t got any drawings to send you, so
will have to draw on my powers of descrip
tion, which may not be very luminous.
In the first place, you must have a post
in fact, two posts; but I want to post you
up particularly about one of them —that is,
the post the gate is hung to. Now, it ought
not to be less than eight inches in diam
eter; but please don’t get one as big as a
barrel. You can pack a small one just as
tight as a large one, and it will last just as
long and be a good deal easier to manage.
Pack it well at the bottom. You can’t
make a gate-poet stand firm by doing the
hard packing at the top of the hole. But
before you pack this post, you must saw ofl
the top with a slight bevel, and turn the
lowest side of the slope from the gate. Now,
if you can find a piece of good heart tim
ber (like a piece of a joist or sleeper) eight
inches wide, and two inches thick, and
eighteen or twenty inches long, pin it on to
the top with three pins, or spikes, letting
eight inches project towards the gate and
two inches from it. This will answer for a
cap and serve another purpose.
Now, a gate 5£ feet high is high enough
unless you are building a deer park, so
that would make your post 7£ feet, leaving
two feet to go in the ground. But stop a
minute ; —don’t put it in the ground yet.
I want you to get a piece of 3x4 scantling
two feet long, and slope it down the three
inch side to a wedge and pin it on, or spike
it on, to the gate side of the post even with
the bottom and the big end of the wedge
just level with the ground. But hold on ;
lam too fast. Before you pin it on, yon
must bore an inch and a quarter hole in the
upper end. Bore it one inch and a hall
deep and a little nearer the gate-side than
the post-side. Now bore a similar hole
right over it, in the cap-piece.
Next thing is the gate. A good, sound
4x6 scantling, 5£ feet long, is the first piece.
Round the two edges that are to go next
the post with a drawing-knife, and, if the
post is not round already, the inside edges
must be hewn down with an axe, for the
corners will be in the way of the gate open
ing wide.
Now measure six inches from one end of
this 4x6 piece, and saw square down across
the four-inch side two inches in depth;
then measure two inches further and saw
down again two inches. Block out the
piece, and do the other end the same way.
I tell you, it takes a power of thinking to
tell this right, but I think you understand
me. These two-inch slots, or mortices, or
recesses, or vacancies, or whatever you call
them, are to receive the ends of the two
long, horizouital 2x4 pieces of scantling
that constitute the frame of the gate. Stop
now —you needn’t nail them in ; but get a
good, stout ten or twelve-inch plank 5£ feet
long and nail it on fast to the rai-ls and the
upright scantling, and, if it is well done, it
will hold all together securely. Do it well,
and let the timber be good, for right there
is the strength and durability of your gate.
But don’t put on any more heavy plank;
light weatherboarding is better, though the
last plank ought to be stout enough to put
a latch to, if you want a latch. I think a
good button on the post is better. Now,
don’t go and put another upright piece of
scantling at the latch-end of the gate, for
that is dead weight for nothing. But if
your gate is eight feet wide, put in a brace,
letting the heel of it fit close where the
lower rail joins the 4x6 piece and the point
of it just in the middle of the upper rail.
Never have a brace any longer than the
diagonal of a square. A little shorter even
than that is better. I’ve seen a thousand
braces running clear across the gate, and so
when the gate swags the brace swags with
it, and does no good at all.
Well, now, if the gate is done, bore an
1| hole in each end of the upright 4x6
piece. Bore the holes three or four inches
deep, leaving about an inch space between
the hole and the post-edge of the scantling.
Put in a couple of good, dry hickory pins,
but don’t put in the top pin until you set
up the gate, and then drive the pin down
through the cap piece. I wouldn’t mention
this little matter if I had not have gotten
into trouble myself and had hard work to
get the pin out again.
I have U9ed three of these farm gates for
two years, and they are still in good order
and hold up well, and I thereby saved the
cost of iron hinges, and the gate will open
either way that I want them, outside or in
side. I warrant these gates to swag a little
if a fifty-pound boy rides on them every
day, and to come down when a heavy carry
log runs against them. Yours,
Bill Arp.
N. B. —Patent not applied for.
Cartersville, Ga., January 10,1880.
A dry, cold, airy loft is a good place to
store onions. Do not let them lie more
than two or three bulbs thick, and often
lwok them over and pull out bad ones. Do
not remove any of the outer rind but what
comes off in handling. The points to
observe are a cool, airy situation, warmth
and moisture being more inimical to their
keeping than frost.
Do not remove the straw coverings from
plants that have been protected during the
winter when the first warm days come.
The most dangerous time is during the al
nate freezing and thawing of early spring.
Let the coverings remain on until all dan
ger from cold nights is past.
Ohurch Music.
An indefinable motive impels me
to write to you this evening. 1 will
begin by saying that I am passion
ately fond of music, although nature
has endowed me with no special tal
ent for this enchanting art. Instru
mental music is my favorite; for be
ing neither a lark nor a nightingale,
I am disposed to judge of the
strains of many others, by my own
feeble essays at vocalization, and I
can assure you that my verdict is
seldom favorable. I speak princi
pally of this modern, operatic sing
ing, when all that one hears is an
affected squeal from the vocalist,
while the body is exercised with
all imaginable contortions, and the
countenance bears the expression of
inconceivable distress. It is enough
to remind one of the ruralist, who,
when he saw a school girl practis
ing calisthenics, inquired of a by
stander if that girl had fits. “No,”
came the answer, with evident dis
gust ; “that’s gymnastics.” “It is,
eh,” replied the verdant, “how long
has she had ’em ? ” The celebrated
Dr. Johnson was once listening to
an operatic, instrumental perform
ance, when a friend whispered to
him that the piece under execution
was very difficult. “Difficult !J”
exclaimed the reverend doctor, “I
wish it were impossible.” I think,
however, the worst feature of all
consists in introducing this style of
music in the services of the sanctu
ary, thereby rendering the most fa
miliar hymns incapable of being
recognized. When a foreign mis
sionary, a few years since, was in
the United States, he sang in public
a Chinese hymn, and one of the
professors in a theological seminary
South, who was present, declared
that he understood the words just
as well as he did the majority of
the hymns sung in oui 1 churches.
This is an error to be deeply la
mented. We should at least com
prehend our hymns sufficiently to
determine whether they are written
in good old English or in some for
eign tongue. A reform in our choirs
should at once be effected. “If,” as
the New York Observer pertinently
remarks, “thoy will not eschew the
bewildering flourishes of the holy (?)
opera, let them at least be required
to sing distinctly.” A single verse
of a hymn, as we are told it
sounded to a writer for a religious
periodical, will only corroborate the
need of this reform:
“Ww kaw swaw daw aw raw,
Thaw saw thaw law aw raw!
Haw kaw raw saw raw vaw vaw braw,
Aw thaw raw Jaw saw aw !”
Imagine the critic’s suprise when
subsequently he ascertained that
the choir had supposed themselves
to be singing:
“Welcome, sweet day nf rest,
That saw the Lord arise !
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And these rejoicing eyes ! ”
How refreshing in contrast is the
following : A plain old gentleman,
a few years since, spent a Sabbath
in Baltimore, Maryland, and was
politely shown to a seat by the sex
ton. He returned to his home de
lighted with what he had heard. A
poet has described the scene; but
more pathetic than all are the
patriarch’s impression concerning
the singing:
“I wish you’d heard the singing, wife,
It had the old-time ring ;
The preacher said, with trumpet voice,
Let all the people sing.
Old Coronation was the tune,
The music upward rolled,
Till I thought I heard the angel choir
Strike all their harps of gold.
“My deafness seemed to melt away,
My spirit caught the tire,
I joined my feeble, trembling voice
Wiih iliat melodious clioir,
And sang, as in ray youthful days,
‘Let angels prostrate fall,
Bring forth the royal diadem
And crown him Lord of all.’
“ I tell you, wiie, it did me good
To sing that hymn once more;
I felt like some wrecked mariner
Who gets a glimpse of shore.
I almost want to lay' aside
This weather-beaten form,
And anchor in the blessed port,
Forever from the storm.
—Southern Musical Journal.
Draining a Hollow. —To drain a de
pression in a field where a clayey or hard
pan subsoil prevents the sinking of rain
water, and the lay of the land is unfavor
able for ordinary methods of drainage, first
dig a hole, as if for a well, through the im
pervious stratum at the bottom of the
hollow, fill it up to the brim with refuse
stones, remove the excavated earth so as to
allow the surface-water free access to the
pit, and standing water will never injure
the grass or grain crop in that part of the
field.
Temperance.
The Rum Seller. —Neal Dow, in
giving his judgment of these men,
says he is only following such as
John Wesley, who called them
“poisoners general ” ; Lord Chester
field, who said, in the House ?of
Lords, in 1728, “They are artists in
human slaughter; ” old Dr. Beecher,
who said, “I defy any man to prove
that they are not murderers; ” Can
non Farrar, who recently said in
Westminster Abbey, “They degrade
and hrutify the people; ” Mr. Mor
ril, of Maine, in the United States
Senate, who said, “The liquor traffic
is the gigantic crime of crimes, ”
and who, six months after, when
spoken to about it, said, “ Yes, I
stand by that.”
What Strong Drink Does. In
the recent address of Chief Justice
Davis occurs the following strong
indictment of intemperance: “It
surrounds us like an atmosphere, as
it has our fathers, through count
less generations. It perverts judg
ment, it poisons habits, it sways pas
sions, it taints churches, and sears
consciences. It seizes the enginery
of our legislation, and by it creates
a moral phenomenon of perpetual
motion, which nature denies to
physics ; for it licenses and empow
ers itself to beget in endless rounds
the wrongs, vices, and crimes which
society is organized to prevent; and
worst of all for our country, it en
coils parties like the serpents of
Laocoon, and crushes in its tolds
the spirit of patriotism and virtue.”
JSo Longer a Cause of Ridicule. —
Fashion as well as appetite is an im
portant factor of the drink problem.
If in the sphere of what is called
“good society” drinking could be
rendered absolutely unfashionable,
a powerful prop to the liquor traffic
would be removed. Even in this
most difficult sphere, the tem
perance reform has made its im
press, and changes most gatifying
are to be noted. The time was, not
many years ago, when to be an ab
stainer in society circles was to be
singular and to be the subject of
open ridicule. “In these days,” says
Dr. Richardson, “it is only the vul
gar who comment with levity and
insult on the abstaining members of
society.” He affirms—thanks to
the temperance reform—that it has
been made possible that “a man
may enjoy every social privilege
and favor while acting conscien
tiously as a total abstainer,” and
adds, that “in all society which is
worth cultivating and maintaining
there is no adverse remark made
upon abstinence.” Let no one
longer fear social discredit from be
coming a total abstainer.'
Intemperance. —We are often too
ready to blame the working-classes
for their intemperate habits, with
out sufficiently taking into account
the excuses which are to be made
for them. Their education has
hitherto been neglected; ' their
homes are unhealthy and worse
than comfortless; the water sup
plied to them is often bad in qual
ity and insufficient in quantity;
and driven from their homes, they
have no resource but the public
house. These wants are now ac
knowledged, and are gradually be
ing met by the agencies which we
have described. By degrees, we
hope that a higher tone of feeling
may be introduced among them, as
has been the case in the richer class
of society. At the beginning of the
present century drunkenness was
common among the richer class of
society, who now regard it with ab
horrence, and there are indications
that this better feeling is extending
itself; for the committee states that,
as a rule, the higher class of arti
zans are becoming more sober, and
that the apprehensions for drunk
enness are becoming more and more
confined to the lowest grades of the
community. Legislation has done
something for the cause of temper
ance in the past, and may do some
thing more in the future; but we
rely rather upon the moral and so
cial agencies which we have indi
cated than upon any legislative en
actments which the wisest Parlia
ments could devise. — Report of Com
mittee in House of Lords, in Ed in -
burgh Review.
—,
—The moderate weather of the pa*t week
prevailed throughout the entire country.
S, A. CUNNINGHAM.
DESTRUCTION OF THE TAY BRIDGE
Rev. J. H. Wilson in Cumberland Presbyte
rian.
We write to-day under the shadow
of a great calamity. The centre
part of the far-famed railway bridge
across the Tay was blown away on
Sabbath night, carrying with it a
train of passengers, and burying
them all in the quicksand of the
river. About a hundred are believed
to be drowned. The railway used
to continue the traffic from the
South to the North by an inland
route, but a few years ago construct
ed an iron bridge so as to get
anew line by the east coast which
was jagged by two estuaries called
Friths, or indentations, by which
the sea from the German ocean met
two rivers; over the confluence of
one of which the Tay bridge was
constructed, tko Forth bridge fur
ther south, and nearer to the city of
Edinburgh being in progress. The
bridge over the Tay was two miles
long, and built in the conter on cas
sons or rollad cylinders filled
with concrete, and resting on sure
foundations laid on piles. To meet
the requirements of vessels going
from the entrance of the river in
land, the bridge had to be kept
one hundred and thirty feet above
high water mark. There were
eighty-five spans, of varying width,
the narrowest being on the two
wings, and the widest in the center,
where the lattice work had to be
placed above the level of the rails.
There were thirteen girders each of
two hundred and forty-five feet
span, and thus there was a much
larger surface exposed to any storm
here than at either side. It was at
this point where the bridge gave
way. The platform, which carries
the single line of rails, is only fif
teen feet wide. The bridge does not
forma straight line; towards the
north end it curves eastward to
Dundee. The whole structure had
a remarkably light and graceful ap
pearance. It was so long, so lofty,
and yet so narrow, that whon seen
from the heights above Newport it
looked like a mere cable swung
from shore to shore ; and seeing a
train puffing along it for the first
time excited, we are told, the same
kind of nervousness as must have
been felt by those who watched
Blondin crossing the Niagara. The
ill-fated train had left Edinburgh
for Dundee in the evening; and
when it entered on the bridge, such
was the strength of the gale which
had come on suddenly, that it could
only proceed at the rate of three
miles an hour. An eye witness
says, “ The train was duly signalled
at 7:14 from the south side as hav
ing entered on the bridge for Dun
dee, and was seen to go slowly along
until it suddenly disappeared in a
flash of fire ; but such was the noise
of the hurricane and the raging of
the sea, that no crash was heard on
either side of the river.” The train
consisted of four third-class, one
second and one first-class carriages,
a break van, and an engine, and the
passengers were nearly all of the
working classes who had been visit
ing their friends in the Christmas
week. The wonder is, tuat so many
as seventy-five had been booked,
besides children and season ticket
holders on a Sunday, for Sunday
traveling is not usual in Scotland.
Six Bible Names.
Say these names over a good
many times until you can remember
them, and the order in which they
are given: Adam, Enoch, Abraham,
Solomon, Christ, John. Repeat them
again, and then learn the following
bit of Bible chronology :
1. From the time Adam was cre
ated until the time Enoch was trans
lated was a thousand years.
2. From the time Enoch was
translated until the time Abraham
was born was a thousand years.
3. From the time Abraham was
born until the time Solomon dedi
cated the temple was a thousand
years.
4. From the time Solomon dedi
cated the temple until the time
Christ was born was a thousand
years.
5. From the time Christ was born
until the time John died was r hun
dred years.
This is the Bible history of forty
one hundred years divided.
yr And “ all over Europe the fever for em
igration to America ia at a boiling heat.” j