MR SPOOPENDYKE AS AN AMATEUR AGRICULTURIST.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3625, 23 February 1883, Page 4

MR SPOOPENDYKE AS AN AMATEUR AGRICULTURIST.

"Tlii*, , ' s.'iid 31 r Spoopeiidyko, as he gazed around on his now acquisition of mx acres, "tliis, my dear, is what I have always wanted. "A fa mi and a former's life arc the highways to happiness, 'Mm Spoopendyke; don't you think so r " "It's perfeotly lovely," rejoined Sirs

Spoopendyke. '"' I was born on a farm, and I was always healthy, though I had to go a good way for water." "I'll fix that, my dear," returned Mr Spoopendyke; " I'll bring , in the water. Now, where are my Agricultural Reports r T must plant right' oil, if we're going to have any crops ; and when they're ripe we'll take 'em to the market." " Do the crops all get ripe at the same time r " asked Mrs Spoopendyke. " Of course they do," replied her husband "They're all planted at the same time, ain't they? You don't suppose they run races, do they ': You haven't got a notion that the first crop in wins to spot, have you ': Now we want to put in some cabbages, and the agricultural report says they niusn't be planted where turnips and radishes grew the year before. I wonder wh.it jrrew in that corner last year ? '' Why not put cabbages where turnips and radishes grew before?" asked Mrs Spoopendyke. '' Because it makes the cabbages taste of 'em," replied Mr Spoopendyke. "Well, then," said Mrs Spoopendyke, " we'll plant them when: watermelons grew, or asparagus. Would they taste of watermelons and asparagus if we did r " "Of fourse they would. And if we planted them where the hens had scratched they'd taste of poultry ; or if we planted them alongside of a finirch they wouldn't boil on Sunday. I'll put them in that corner over there, and we'll have raspberries in the other corner.'' "1 don't like raspberries," objected Mrs Spoopendyke. " I'd rather have hickory nuts. Can you plant hickory nuts where anything else has grown r " '"No," replied Mr Sponpcndyke, solemnly; "you can't. They wouldn't stay down, I tell you. We might have our meadow in that corner, and fill in between the meadow and the cabbages with—" "Hollyhocks!" interrupted Mrs Spoopendyke,'" and we can train them against the fence." "Who wants any dod-gasted hollyhocks .?" blurted Mr Spoopendyke. " May be you'd like to plant some old glass bottles, or put down some old rags and a bent wire, and raise spring bonnets ! I tell you we'll put onions in there, and then fill up that end of the farm." "Then you ought to have your pasture at this end," recommended Mrs Spoopendyke." ' ''No, I'm going to put my orchard here, and on that far side, between the orchard and the cabbages, I'll plant some—some —what can we put in there r " " I'd have a rose bush or " "Or—or what? May be you want to plant some back hair, and raise wigs? How'd you like to put an old barrel in there and raise washtubs ?' "I was thinking of a lake," mumbled Mrs Spoopendyke. '" A lake looks so pretty on a farm." " Of course it docs '." roared Mr Spoopendyke. "All you've got v to do is to plant a bucket of water, and watch it grow. Maybe yon're thinking of training a measly lake up 'against the fence ! Now, I'm going to put some buckwheat in there, and that makes cabbages, two acres ; buckwheat, half an acre: which just fills the farm comfortable." *• "Where are you frwinjj to have j-otur pasture?" asked' Mrs Spoopendyke. "Probably out doors, somewhere," responded her husband. "There's more i-oom out doors. Don't you know that crops don't grow in winter, and then that cow can have the whole farm for a pasture?" "That's so," said Mrs Spoopendyke: " I hadn't thought of that. Now we want some chickens. ,, "One chicken will bo enough, said Mr Spoopendyke ; " I'm not going to have a lot of measly hens scratching up my meadow, and oac will giro all the eggs we want. I'm going to lay my money out in forming implements, and not hens. You see we've got to have a- Bteavn reaper and mowing machine." "And a steam hoc." suggested Mrs Spoopeudyke ; "and we ought to have some "Yes. we must have geese. I'll look around for white ones. I don't like the • aav geese. Now, I see by the reports that a cow* ought to be dry at least six weeks before her time for calving. You be careful not to give that cow any water, you hear. Where can we put the pig:" "J don't know," replied Mrs Spoopendyke, biting her thumb. " Can't we put him in the orchard :" " Yes, and along in the spring we'll, find the orchard in him. That's an idea. One year fruit and the next year pig : turn and turn about." " But you can tie him up so he can t bit the trees'. You'll want to kill him in the spring anyhow. "That's so. We can (ie him in the orchard and keep the cow in the wood-died. That reminds me J must have a grindstone. What kind of tre*-s shall we put in the orchard:" '.: iv-" }i r.-v u -..■'- vu 11:;• :x.o\.'j -jLr.-C z," r■-■:~.'.\—zc- ; model farm. If T had yorir inteiiigenco >ma ii. yellow cover I'd hire out us an almanac : Don't you know that willows don't give fruit ? ' I'm going to put in some quince trees and olives". There you get your fruit and shade, together. Then, around in the corners of the fence I'll plant strawberry vines." 1 "That'll be nice," interrupted Mrs Spoopendyke. " And when we kill the pig, 1 I'll niiike'sonic little oil-skin bags to put the sausages in." ! "What bags:" demanded Mr Spoopendyke. " " Those oil -silk bags that always come around sausages." 1 " Oh, yes : "those. They'll do anytime. Say, I think I'll get some'sheep, and then, \ during the long winter evenings, we can shear them at our leisure. , ' \ "Won't they butt us ?" asked Mrs Spoopendvko. 1 " I'll get some quiet ones without horns," ; replied Mr Spoopendyke, "or some that have their horns all curled around so they can't stick in us." "I must find out how to make honey ,_ and the first thing we want is a wind-mill." "Then we'eau always tell which way the wind blows." exclaimed Mrs Spoopendyke. " Get one with a man holding a spy-glass to the eye. I saw—" "Who cares a dod-gasied cent what you ' saw?" raved Mr Spoopendyke. "Do you know what a windmill is: Think its got '. eyes all over it, like a nicasly old maid r Got a notion that a- windmill goes round with its skirts hoisted up. and a dod-gasted spy- ' s-luss under its firm r AYe.ll. it don't, 1 tell ye : and it don't go sky ting about aftenncn ' either? Its a mill, audit will pump water whenever you want it to. Understand what it is now?" " Certainly, dear," rejoined Mrs Spoopendyke : " but j thought you meant something to put on the chimney, when it don't draw. Now, where could we keep a windmill?" "Ghninitup behind the boiwe '." fhuudered Mr Spoopendyke. "It will have a collar on, and we can bring it in at nights, or have a kennel built for it. Got it now? Think you'd know a windmill, if I asked one home to dinner ?" "I know what it is now," whimpered Mrs Spoopendyke. " It.- a thing that turns around." "That's it," snorted Mr Spoopendyke. ; "It waltzes. You've struck the idea ; with what yon now know, and what you've got to find out. you only need a good breeze and 1 a light around the comer to be a whole flour-mill." " I suppose we'll plant some cauliflowers," said Mrs Spoopendyke. putting her thumb on the paragraph. "Either that or cabbage," returned her husband. "J dun't know whether we'll have cabbages enough," he continued. ; musingly. " You might have less buckwheat," suggested Mrs Spoopendyke. '' I should think, though, that two acres would bo enough for one hen, and if it isn't-you can buy a load now and then from the neighbors." ; " I'll think that over," replied Mr Spoopendyke. " Here's one thing that ] don't . understand. It says we should test a few seeds before planting, to make sure they will germinate, but it doesn't say how to doit.' - "Maybe it means to boil them," suggested Mrs Spoopeudyko, " or perhaps you—-" " Or perhaps you mean to i.-rack Ym with an a.xc. to sec if they're hard ! I s'pose you've got an idea you stick straws into'cm, iis you do in bread, to see if they're done ' Well, you don't, you put acid on "em. I'll get some acid and drop 'em in, and if it discolors them they're not good, and if it don't they're all right. I think maybe we ought to'havo some weevil for that pig." "I don't know where your going to plant it," said Mrs Spoopondykc, "unless it will i grow with buckwheat or onions. You can't

put it in with the cabbage, because the pig and the hen would fight." '' Do vouknow what weevil is.' demanded Mr Spoopendyke, glaring at his wife " Got a notion that'it's some kind of weed for the pi"- to smoke, haven't you ? Imagine it's a. gilt-edge note-paper with a monogram, for him to write on, don't yoxi ? Well, it isn't either one. nor it isn't a swallow-tnil coat nor a plug-hat for him to go to church in, neither! You don't plant weevil, Mrs Spoopendyke, 11113' more than you do soap, or clothes-pins, or stair-rods. You buy it in barrels, and I'll order some." " I think we ought to have some lace curtains for the front windows," suggested Mrs Spoopendyke, anxious to change the conversation. "Yes we want "a folding bedstead for the cow, and we've got to have anew arm chair for the pig, and I'm afraid these cabbages won't do well without a wet imrso r" squealed Mr Spoopendyke. " I suppose I've got to hire a man to see that the meadow don't go fishing on Sundays, and upset your religious notions. 0 ! you're a farmer's wife, you are! If I had time to write an index to you and get some dodgasted binder to fit you up with a flyleaf, you'd make a whole'agricultural report." And Mr Spoopendyke shot into the house and to bed, while his wife, having put all the oil lamps into buckets of water, so they couldn't explode during the night, fell asleep, dreaming that the cabbage patch had eloped with the onions, while the pig and the cow had died of weevil, and the windmill had abandoned agricultural purI suits and started oft , through Ohio.