As I look back to the beginning of my experiment, I see only one bit of good luck that attended it. Building material was cheap during the months in which I had to build so much. Nothing else specially favored me, while in one respect my experiment was poorly timed. The price of pork was unusually low. For three years, from 1896, the price of hogs never reached $5 per hundred pounds in our market,--a thing unprecedented for thirty years. I never sold below three and a half cents, but the showing would have been wonderfully bettered could I have added another cent or two per pound for all the pork I fattened. The average price for the past twenty-five years is well above five cents a pound for choice lots. Corn and all other foods were also cheap; but this made little difference with me, because I was not a seller of grain.

In 1896 I was, however, a buyer of both corn and oats. In September of that year corn sold on 'Change at 19-1/2 cents a bushel, and oats at 14-3/4. These prices were so much below the food value of these grains that I was tempted to buy. I sent a cash order to a commission house for five thousand bushels of each. I stored this grain in my granary, against the time of need, at a total expense of $1850,--21 cents a bushel for corn and 16 for oats. I had storage room and to spare, and I knew that I could get more than a third of a cent out of each pound of corn, and more than half a cent out of each pound of oats. I recalled the story of a man named Joseph who did some corn business in Egypt a good many years ago, much in this line, and who did well in the transaction. There was no dream of fat kine in my case; but I knew something of the values of grains, and it did not take a reader of riddles to show me that when I could buy cheaper than I could raise, it was a good time to purchase.

As I said once before, there have been no serious crop failures at Four Oaks,--indeed, we can show better than an average yield each year; but this extra corn in my cribs has given me confidence in following my plan of very liberal feeding. With this grain on hand I was able to cut twenty acres of oats in Nos. 10 and 11 for forage. This was done when the grain was in the milk, and I secured about sixty tons of excellent hay, much loved by horses. We got from No. 9 a little less than twelve tons of clover,--alfalfa furnished forty tons; and there was nearly twenty tons of old hay left over from that originally purchased. With all this forage, good of its kind, there was, however, no timothy or red top, which is by all odds the best hay for horses. I determined to remedy this lack before another year. As soon as the oats were off lots 10 and 11, they were ploughed and crossed with the disk harrow. From then until September 1, these fields were harrowed each week in half lap, so that by the time we were ready to seed them they were in excellent condition and free from weeds. About September 1 they were sown to timothy and red top, fifteen pounds each to the acre, top-dressed with five hundred pounds of fertilizer, harrowed once more, rolled, and left until spring, when another dose of fertilizer was used.

I wished to establish twenty acres of timothy and as much alfalfa, to furnish the hay supply for the farm. With one hundred tons of alfalfa and sixty of timothy, which I could reasonably expect, I could get on splendidly.

From the first I have practised feeding my hay crop for immediate returns. The land receives five hundred pounds of fertilizer per acre when it is sown, a like amount again in the spring, and, as soon as a crop is cut, three hundred pounds an acre more. This usually gives a second crop of timothy about September 1, if the season is at all favorable. The alfalfa is cut at least three times, and for each cutting it receives three hundred pounds of plant food per acre. In the course of a year I spend from $10 to $12 an acre for my gra.s.s land. In return I get from each acre of timothy, in two cuttings, about three and a half tons; worth, at an average selling price, $12 a ton. The alfalfa yields nearly five tons per acre, and has a feeding value of $10 a ton. I have sold timothy hay a few times, but I feel half ashamed to say so, for it is against my view of justice to the land. I find oat hay cheaper to raise than timothy, and, as it is quite as well liked by the horses, I have been tempted to turn a part of my timothy crop into money directly from the field.

CHAPTER XXIX

FROM CITY TO COUNTRY

In early July I went through my young orchard, which had been cut back so ruthlessly the previous autumn, and carefully planned a head for each tree. Quite a bunch of sprouts had started from near the top of each stub, and were growing luxuriantly. Out of each bunch I selected three or four to form the head; the rest were rubbed off or cut out with a sharp knife or pruning shears. It surprised me to see what a growth some of these sprouts had made; sixteen or eighteen inches was not uncommon.

Big roots and big bodies were pushing great quant.i.ties of sap toward the tops.

Of course I bought farm machinery during this first season,--mower, reaper, corn reaper, shredder, and so on. In October I took account of expenditures for machinery, gra.s.s seed, and fertilizer, and found that I had invested $833. I had also, at an expense of $850, built a large shed or tool-house for farm implements. It is one of the rules at Four Oaks to grease and house all tools when not in actual use. I believe the observation of this rule has paid for the shed.

In October 1896 I had a good offer for my town house, and accepted it.

I had purchased the property eleven years before for $22,000, but, as it was in bad condition, I had at once spent $9000 on it and the stable. I sold it for $34,000, with the understanding that I could occupy it for the balance of the year if I wished.

After selling the house, I calculated the cost of the elementary necessities, food and shelter, which I had been willing to pay during many years of residence in the city. The record ran about like this:--

Interest at 5% on house valued at $34,000 $1700.00 Yearly taxes on same 340.00 Insurance 80.00 Fuel and light 250.00 Wages for one man and three women 1200.00 Street sprinkling, watchman, etc. 90.00 Food, including water, ice, etc. 1550.00 ________ Making a total of $5210.00

It cost me $100 a week to shelter and feed my family in the city. This, of course, took no account of personal expenses,--travel, sight-seeing, clothing, books, gifts, or the thousand and one things which enter more or less prominently into the everyday life of the family.

If the farm was to furnish food and shelter for us in the future, it would be no more than fair to credit it with some portion of this expenditure, which was to cease when we left the city home. What portion of it could be justly credited to the farm was to be decided by comparative comforts after a year of experience. I did not plan our exodus for the sake of economy, or because I found it necessary to retrench; our rate of living was no higher than we were willing and able to afford. Our object was to change occupation and mode of life without financial loss, and without moulting a single comfort. We wished to end our days close to the land, and we hoped to prove that this could be done with both grace and profit. I had no desire to lose touch with the city, and there was no necessity for doing so. Four Oaks is less than an hour from the heart of town. I could leave it, spend two or three hours in town, and be back in time for luncheon without special effort; and Polly would think nothing of a shopping trip and friends home with her to dinner. The people of Exeter were nearly all city people who were so fortunate as not to be slaves to long hours. They were rich by work or by inheritance, and they gracefully accepted the _otium c.u.m dignitate_ which this condition permitted. Social life was at its best in Exeter, and many of its people were old acquaintances of ours. A noted country club spread its broad acres within two miles of our door, and I had been favorably posted for membership. It did not look as though we should be thrust entirely upon our own resources in the country; but at the worst we had resources within our own walls and fences that would fend off all but the most violent attacks of ennui.

We were both keenly interested in the experiment. Nothing that happened on the farm went unchallenged. The milk product for the day was a thing of interest; the egg count could not go unnoted; a hatch of chickens must be seen before they left the incubator; a litter of new-born pigs must be admired; horses and cows were forever doing things which they should or should not do; men and maids had griefs and joys to share with mistress or Headman; flowers were blooming, trees were leafing, a robin had built in the black oak, a gopher was tunnelling the rose bed,--a thousand things, full of interest, were happening every day. As a place where things the most unexpected do happen, recommend me to a quiet farm.

But we were not to depend entirely upon outside things for diversion.

Books we had galore, and we both loved them. Many a charming evening have I spent, sometimes alone, more often with two or three congenial friends, listening to Polly's reading. This is one of her most delightful accomplishments. Her friends never tire of her voice, and her voice never tires of her friends. We all grow lazy when she is about; but there are worse things than indolence. No, we did not mean to drop out of anything worth while; but we were pretty well provisioned against a siege, if inclement weather or some other accident should lock us up at the farm.

To keep still better hold of the city, I suggested to Tom and Kate that they should keep open house for us, or any part of us, whenever we were inclined to take advantage of their hospitality. This would give us city refuge after late functions of all sorts. The plan has worked admirably.

I devote $1200 a year out of the $5200 of food-and-shelter money to the support of our city shelter at Kate's house, and the balance, $4000, is entered at the end of each year on the credit side of the farm ledger.

Nor do I think this in any way unjust. We do not expect to get things for nothing, and we do not wish to. If the things we pay for now are as valuable as those we paid for six or eight years ago, we ought not to find fault with an equal price. I have repeatedly polled the family on this question, and we all agree that we have lost nothing by the change, and that we have gained a great deal in several ways. Our friends are of like opinion; and I am therefore justified in crediting Four Oaks with a considerable sum for food and shelter. We have bettered our condition without foregoing anything, and without increasing our expenses. That is enough.

CHAPTER x.x.x

AUTUMN RECKONING

We harvested the crops in the autumn of 1896, and were thankful for the bountiful yield. Nearly sixteen hundred bushels of oats and twenty-seven hundred bushels of corn made a proud showing in the granary, when added to its previous stock. The corn fodder, shredded by our own men and machine, made the great forage barn look like an overflowing cornucopia, and the only extra expense attending the harvest was $31 paid for threshing the oats.

Three important items of food are consumed on the farm that have to be purchased each year, and as there is not much fluctuation in the price paid, we may as well settle the per capita rate for the milch cows and hogs for once and all. At each year's end we can then easily find the cash outlay for the herds by multiplying the number of stock by the cost of keeping one.

My Holstein cows consume a trifle less than three tons of grain each per year,--about fifteen pounds a day. Taking the ration for four cows as a matter of convenience, we have: corn and cob meal, three tons, and oatmeal, three tons, both kinds raised and ground on the farm, and not charged in this account; wheat bran, three tons at $18, $54; gluten meal, two tons at $24, $48; oil meal, one ton, $26; total cash outlay for four cows, $128, or $32 per head. This estimate is, however, about $2 too liberal. We will, hereafter, charge each milch cow $30, and will also charge each hog fattened on the place $1 for shorts and middlings consumed. This is not exact, but it is near enough, and it greatly simplifies accounts.

As I kept twenty-six cows ten months, and ten more for an average of four and a half months, the feeding for 1896 would be equivalent to one year for thirty cows, or $900. To this add $120 for swine food and $25 for grits and oyster sh.e.l.ls for the chickens, and we have $1045 paid for food for stock. Shoeing the horses for the year and repairs to machinery cost $157. The purchased food for eight employees for twelve months and for two additional ones for eight months, amounted to $734. The wage account, including $50 extra to Thompson, was $2358.

A second hen-house, a duplicate of the first, was built before October.

It was intended that each house should accommodate four hundred laying hens. We have now on the place five of these houses; but only two of them, besides the incubator and the brooder-house, were built in 1896.

As offset to the heavy expenditure of this year, I had not much to show.

Seven hundred c.o.c.kerels were sold in November for $342. In October the pullets began laying in desultory fashion, and by November they had settled down to business; and that quarter they gave me 703 dozen eggs to sell. As these eggs were marketed within twenty-four hours, and under a guarantee, I had no difficulty in getting thirty cents a dozen, net.

November eggs brought $211, and the December out-put, $252. I sold 600 bushels of potatoes for $150, and the apples from 150 of the old trees (which, by the way, were greatly improved this year) brought $450 on the trees.

The cows did well. In the thirty-three weeks from May 12 to December 31, I sold a little more than 6600 pounds of b.u.t.ter, which netted me $2127.

We had 122 young hogs to sell in December. They had been crowded as fast as possible to make good weight, and they went to market at an average of 290 pounds a head. The price was low, but I got the top of the market,--$3.55 a hundred, which amounted to $1170 after paying charges.

I had reserved twenty-five of the most likely young sows to stay on the farm, and had transferred eight to the village butcher, who was to return them in the shape of two barrels of salt pork, thirty-two smoked hams and shoulders, and a lot of bacon.

The old sows farrowed again in September and early October, and we went into the winter with 162 young pigs. I get these details out of the way now in order to turn to the family and the social side of life at Four Oaks.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE CHILDREN

The house did not progress as fast as Nelson had promised, and it was likely to be well toward Christmas before we could occupy it. As the days shortened, Polly and I found them crowded with interests. Life at Four Oaks was to mean such a radical change that we could not help speculating about its influence upon us and upon the children. Would it be satisfactory to us and to them? Or should we find after a year or two of experiment that we had been mistaken in believing that we could live happier lives in the country than in town? A year and a half of outdoor life and freedom from professional responsibilities had wrought a great change in me. I could now eat and sleep like a hired man, and it seemed preposterous to claim that I was going to the country for my health. My medical adviser, however, insisted that I had not gotten far enough away from the cause of my breakdown, and that it would be unwise for me to take up work again for at least another year. In my own mind there was a fixed opinion that I should never take it up again. I loved it dearly; but I had given long, hard service to it, and felt that I had earned the right to freedom from its exacting demands. I have never lost interest in this, the n.o.blest of professions, but I had done my share, and was now willing to watch the work of others. In my mind there was no doubt about the desirability of the change. I have always loved the thought of country life, and now that my thoughts were taking material shape, I was keen to push on. Polly looked toward the untrammelled life we hoped to lead with as great pleasure as I.

But how about the children? Would it appeal to them with the same force as to us? The children have thus far been kept in the background. I wanted to start my factory farm and to get through with most of its dull details before introducing them to the reader, lest I should be diverted from the business to the domestic, or social, proposition.

The farm is laid by for the winter, and most of the details needed for a just comprehension of our experiment have been given. From this time on we will deal chiefly with results. We will watch the out-put from the factory, and commend or find fault as the case may deserve.

The social side of life is quite as important as the commercial, for though we gain money, if we lose happiness, what profit have we? Let us study the children to see what chances for happiness and good fellowship lie in them.

Kate is our first-born. She is a bright, beautiful woman of five-and-twenty, who has had a husband these six years, one daughter for four years, and, wonderful to relate, another daughter for two years.

She is quick and practical, with strong opinions of her own, prompt with advice and just as prompt with aid; a woman with a temper, but a friend to tie to in time of stress. She has the education of a good school, and what is infinitely better, the cultivation of an observing mind. She is quick with tongue and pen, but her quickness is so tempered by unquestioned friendliness that it fastens people to her as with a cord.

She overflows with interests of every description, but she is never too busy to listen sympathetically to a child or a friend. She is the practical member of the family, and we rarely do much out of the ordinary without first talking it over with Kate.

Tom Hamilton, her husband, is a young man who is getting on in the world. He is clever in his profession, and sure to succeed beyond the success of most men. He is quiet in manner, but he seems to have a way of managing his quick, handsome wife, which is something of a surprise to me, and to her also, I fancy. They are congenial and happy, and their children are beings to adore. Tom and Kate are to live in town. They are too young for the joys of country life, and must needs drag on as they are, loved and admired by a host of friends. They can, and will, however, spend much time at Four Oaks; and I need not say they approved our plans.

Jack is our second. He was a junior at Yale, and I am shy of saying much about him lest I be accused of partiality. Enough to say that he is tall, blond, handsome, and that he has gentle, winning ways that draw the love of men and women. He is a dreamer of dreams, but he has a st.u.r.dy drop of Puritan blood in his veins that makes him strong in conviction and brave in action. Jack has never caused me an hour of anxiety, and I was ever proud to see him in any company.

Concerning Jane, I must be pardoned in advance for a father's favoritism. She is my youngest, and to me she seems all that a father could wish. Of fair height and well moulded, her physique is perfect.

Good health and a happy life had set the stamp of superb womanhood upon her eighteen years. Any effort to describe her would be vain and unsatisfactory. Suffice it to say that she is a pure blonde, with eyes, hair, and skin just to my liking. She is quiet and shy in manner, deliberate in speech, sensitive beyond measure, wise in intuitive judgment, clever in history and literature, but always a little in doubt as to the result of putting seven and eight together, and not unreasonably dominated by the rules of orthography. She is fond of outdoor life, in love with horses and dogs, and withal very much of a home girl. Every one makes much of Jane, and she is not spoiled, but rather improved by it. She was in her second year at Farmington, and, like all Farmington students, she cared more for girls than for boys.

These were the children whom I was to transport from the city, where they were born, to the quiet life at Four Oaks. After carefully taking their measures, I felt little hesitation about making the change. They, of course, had known of the plan, and had often been to the farm; but they were still to find out what it really meant to live there. A saddle horse and dogs galore would square me with Jane, beyond question; but what about Jack? Time must decide that. His plan of life was not yet formed, and we could afford to wait. We did not have much time in which to weigh these matters, for the Christmas holidays were near, and the youngsters would soon be home. We planned to be settled in the new house when they arrived.