Read Ebook: Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature Science and Art fifth series no. 126 vol. III May 29 1886 by Various

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Harry was just on the point of dismounting and following the old negro's advice, with some remote idea of applying the whip immediately after to the back of his adviser, when a younger black man, stepping out hastily from behind a row of canes that had hitherto concealed him, took up the whip and handed it back to him with a respectful salutation. The old man looked on disdainfully while Harry took it; then, as the rider went on with a parting angry glance, he muttered sulkily: 'Who dat man dat you gib de whip to? An' what for you want to gib it him dere, Peter?'

The younger man answered apologetically: 'Dat Mr Noel, buckra from Englan'; him come to stop at Orange Grobe along ob de massa.'

'Buckra from Englan'!' Louis Delgado cried incredulously. 'Him doan't no buckra from Englan', I tellin' you, me brudder; him Trinidad brown man as sure as de gospel. You doan't see him is brown man, Peter, de minnit you look at him?'

Peter shook his head and grinned solemnly. 'No, Mistah Delgado, him doan't no brown man,' he answered, laughing. 'Him is dark for true, but still him real buckra. Him stoppin' up at house along ob de massa!'

Delgado turned to his work once more, doggedly. 'If him buckra, an' if him stoppin' up wit dem Dupuy,' he said half aloud, but so that the wondering Peter could easily overhear it, 'when de great an' terrible day come, he will be cut off wit all de household. An' de day doan't gwine to be delayed long now, neider.' A mumbled Arabic sentence, which Peter of course could not understand, gave point and terror to this last prediction. Peter turned away, thinking to himself that Louis Delgado was a terrible obeah man and sorcerer for certain, and that whoever crossed his path, had better think twice before he offended so powerful an antagonist.

Meanwhile, Harry Noel was still riding on to Orange Grove. As he reached the garden gate, Tom Dupuy met him, out for a walk in the cool of the evening with big Slot, his great Cuban bloodhound. As Harry drew near, Slot burst away suddenly with a leap from his master, and before Harry could foresee what was going to happen, the huge brute had sprung up at him fiercely, and was attacking him with his mighty teeth and paws, as though about to drag him from his seat forcibly with his slobbering canines. Harry hit out at the beast a vicious blow from the butt-end of his riding-whip, and at the same moment Tom Dupuy, sauntering up somewhat more lazily than politeness or even common humanity perhaps demanded, caught the dog steadily by the neck and held him back by main force, still struggling vehemently and pulling at the collar. His great slobbering jaws opened hungrily towards the angry Englishman, and his eyes gleamed with the fierce light of a starving carnivore in sight and smell of his natural prey.

'Precious vicious dog you keep, Mr Dupuy,' Harry exclaimed, not over good-humouredly, for the brute had made its teeth meet through the flap of his coat lappets: 'you oughtn't to let him go at large, I fancy.'

Tom Dupuy stooped and patted his huge favourite lovingly on the head with very little hypocritical show of penitence or apology. 'He don't often go off this way,' he answered coolly. 'He's a Cuban bloodhound, Slot is; pure-blooded--the same kind we used to train in the good old days to hunt up the runaway niggers; and they often go at a black man or a brown man--that's what they're meant for. The moment they smell African blood, they're after it, like a greyhound after a hare, as quick as lightning. But I never knew Slot before go for a white man! It's very singular--ex-cessively singular. I never before knew him go for a real white man.'

'If he was my dog,' Harry Noel answered, walking his pony up to the door with a sharp lookout on the ugly mouth of the straining and quivering bloodhound, 'he'd never have the chance again, I can tell you, to go for another. The brute's most dangerous--a most bloodthirsty creature. And indeed, I'm not sentimental myself on the matter of niggers; but I don't know that in a country where there are so many niggers knocking about casually everywhere, any man has got a right to keep a dog that darts straight at them as a greyhound darts at a hare, according to your own confession. It doesn't seem to me exactly right or proper somehow.'

Tom Dupuy glanced carelessly at the struggling brute and answered with a coarse laugh: 'I see, Mr Noel, you've been taking counsel already with your friend Hawthorn. Well, well, in my opinion, I expect there's just about a pair of you!'

TOBACCO CULTIVATION.

The question of the cultivation of tobacco has recently been brought within the range of practical agriculture. In both Houses of Parliament the government has announced that permission will be given to grow this plant, and cure it in proper manner, as experiments, in various parts of the country, and more especially in Ireland. The Council of the Royal Agricultural Society of England, with His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales in the chair, determined to help the government in the matter, provided the government gave a grant towards the experiments. The subject thus becomes one of special moment. It is very doubtful, however, whether any experiments that can be made will give us much more information than we at present have regarding this crop. That it can be grown in this country is certain. To take up the first seed catalogue that comes to our hand--that of Messrs Carter & Co.--we find that for a long series of years past, the seed of no fewer than seven varieties of Nicotiana is announced as for sale. The plants are grown in many gardens, and the leaves are dried and used as fumigants against insects. In fact, so simple is the growth of the plant, that the only directions given are to 'Sow on heat, and transplant to good, rich, loamy soil, or sow out of doors in May.' That the plant can be grown is certain; but if grown on an agricultural scale, it will have to bear with the usual effects of climate, injurious insects, and the thousand-and-one ills which plant-life is heir to. That is, so far as the plant is concerned. The great difficulty in every country will begin with the curing, and is the cause of the tobacco crop being gradually given up.

So far as Europe is concerned, there has been a great decrease in tobacco cultivation during recent years. In the Netherlands, the acreage is at present something like half what it was ten or twelve years ago. In Belgium, the decrease in area has been considerable, but not to so great an extent. In Austro-Hungary the acreage under tobacco was in 1884 less by 8768 acres than two years previously. In Germany, the area of the crop fell from 1881 to 1883 by over 12,000 acres. Italy, with its magnificent climate, grows only 8202 acres; while in France, where the government purchase the crop, only 32,800 acres were grown last year. It is to America, however, that we must turn for our best information as to the growth of tobacco. In the last four census years, this crop was grown to the following extent: 1850, crop of 199,752,655 pounds; 1860, crop of 434,209,461 pounds; 1870, 262,735,341 pounds; and 1880, crop of 472,661,117 pounds, grown on 638,841 acres. Here we find that although there was a great decrease in the growth of this crop after the war, it gradually picked up again, and the crop is now as large as ever. In 1883, 451,545,641 pounds were grown on an area of 638,739 acres. Its total value was ?8,091,072.

The method of cultivation adopted in the United States cannot fail to be of use to the English or Irish grower. In the first place, a word should be said upon the position of tobacco in crop rotations. Travellers in South America have often noticed the desolate appearance of some portions of the country. This is due to the exhaustion of the soil by continuous tobacco-growing. A very large proportion of what was known as tobacco land has thus been reduced to a condition of poverty, and has been left to itself, and is covered with weeds. A good authority declares that this fault can be easily remedied, and that by growing tobacco as a rotation crop. After two crops of tobacco have been taken from the land, and after this a crop of corn, and then a crop of clover or vetches, after the latter have been cut or fed off, the land may be again prepared for another crop of tobacco. A word may be said here also on manures. In the best tobacco plantations, two hundred pounds of nitrate of soda and two hundred and fifty pounds of superphosphate per acre are used--the former bringing up a heavier crop, and the latter improving its quality. Besides these, large applications of farmyard manure are made. Taking Wisconsin as the State more particularly to be treated of, we find that the seed-beds are burned lightly, and a liberal allowance of manure worked in, to the depth of six inches, with a hoe or spade. This work of preparation begins in July, when the manure is applied. The bed is reworked in August, and again in September, for the purpose of keeping down any weeds or grass that may spring up; and finally, in November, it is hoed and raked and prepared to receive the seed, which is either sown in the Fall or early in the succeeding spring. When sown in the Fall, the seed is not previously sprouted. After sowing, the bed is compacted by rolling, tramping, or clapping with a board. The plants are carefully nursed by liquid manuring and by weeding. The young plants are generally large enough for transplanting by the 1st of June.

The land for the main crop--that is, into which the plants are transplanted from the seed-bed--is ploughed in the Fall after the crop of the previous year, and twice in the spring--in May, and just before the 1st of June. Coarse and rough manures are applied with the autumn ploughing, and finer well-rotted sorts in May. After the last ploughing, the land is thoroughly pulverised by harrows or drags, and marked off for the plant. The varieties of tobacco grown are either the seed-leaf or the Spanish. If the former, the plants are placed two and a half feet by three feet apart; but if the latter, three feet by a foot and a half. Thus, if the seed-leaf variety, some five thousand five hundred plants are used to the acre; and if the Spanish, nine thousand six hundred. As soon as the soil is in proper condition to work after the plants have been set out, a cultivator with five teeth is run between the rows, and this is kept up once or twice a week, until the field has been gone over five or six times. The crop is hoed twice--once after the cultivator has been run through the first time. Very little earth is put round the plant, level cultivation being preferred. In some portions of the district, a horse-hoe is used in cultivating the crop; this implement, from its peculiar construction, enables the operator to go very near each plant and stir every portion of the soil. In very small patches, the cultivation is done entirely with the hoe, which is kept up every week until the plants are so large that they cannot be worked without breaking the leaves.

The next operations are termed 'topping' and 'suckering.' In about forty-eight or fifty days after the plants are set, if the crop has been well cultivated and the weather seasonable, the flower-buds make their appearance, and are pinched out, leaving from fourteen to sixteen leaves on each plant. None of the bottom leaves are taken off, but all are left to mature, or dry up, serving as a protection against the dirt. Fields, however, are often seen in full blossom before the tobacco is topped, and this results in great damage to the crop. Tobacco is suckered twice--once in about a week after it is topped, and again just before it is cut, which is generally about two weeks after topping. 'Suckering' consists in the removal of young suckers, which at this time make their appearance in large numbers. As has been noted, tobacco is generally ready for harvesting in two weeks after being topped; but there is considerable variation in the time on various soils. On warm sandy loams, the plant will be as ripe in twelve days as it will be on heavy clayey soils in eighteen days. This is one of the reasons why sandy loams are preferred.

Harvesting commences early in August, and continues without intermission into September. The time preferred for cutting is from two o'clock in the afternoon until nearly sundown, because at that time tobacco is less liable to be blistered by the heat of the sun. The instrument used for cutting is a hatchet, the plants being cut off nearly on a level with the ground, and laid back on the rows to 'wilt.' After wilting, they are speared on laths. Of the large seed-leaf variety, only about six plants are put on a lath, but of the smaller Spanish variety, ten are not considered too many. After being speared on the laths, the latter are carefully put on a long wagon-frame, made for the purpose, and carried to the sheds, where they are arranged on the tier poles or racks, from six to ten inches apart, according to the size of the plant, but never so close as to permit them to touch each other. It requires six weeks to cure the Spanish variety perfectly, and two months to cure the seed-leaf. If the weather is dry, after the crop is out, the doors are kept closed during the day and opened at night; but extreme care must be taken not to cure too rapidly. In muggy, sultry weather, as much air as possible should be given, thorough ventilation being indispensable, to prevent 'pole-sweat.' Continuous damp weather and continuous dry weather are both to be feared. It is believed by many good growers that white veins are the result of a drought after the tobacco has been harvested, and it is said that no crop cured when there is plenty of rain is ever affected with them. Inferences of this kind, however, are too often drawn without considering a sufficient number of cases to warrant the enunciation of a general law. This is the view put forth by Mr Killebrew, in an able paper on Tobacco-culture written for the American government. He, however, further points out that it is a well-established truth, deduced from the universal experience of the cultivation of seed-leaf tobacco in every State, that a crop cannot be cured without the alternations of moist and dry atmospheres.

A few words may be said on the curing of tobacco generally. Three systems are adopted in the United States. It may be air-dried; dried by open-fire heat from charcoal or wood fires in the barn; or by flues which convey heat from ovens and heaters built outside the barn. The last method is said to be the best, as a better control can be had over the temperature. No regular rule can be given, as the heat must be regulated according to circumstances, and must change with the weather. The main thing is to dry the tobacco gradually to secure a good colour, and to prevent mould. When the tobacco is dry, it must be kept so by gentle fires in wet or damp weather, and it is not touched for the purpose of 'bulking' until it has become soft and pliable. Artificial sweating is believed by some to be accompanied with less risk than sweating by the natural process; and second stories of warehouses are sometimes prepared as sweating chambers by being closely ceiled or plastered. These are heated by furnaces, and the temperature maintained at from one hundred and ten to one hundred and forty degrees.

After curing, the tobacco is prepared for market. This consists of stripping the leaves from the stalks, tying them up in large bundles, and afterwards sorting them. After being sorted in 'grades,' these are tied up in 'hands' of from eighteen to twenty leaves, securely wrapped with a leaf at the butt-end, and 'bulked' in piles, with the heads out and the tails overlapping in the centre of the bulk. Here it remains until the 'fatty stems' are thoroughly cured, when it is sold to the dealers. These latter pack it in barrels and sweat the leaves still further; but into this subject we need not go, as it can have but little interest to the farmer who intends growing tobacco in this country.

So far as the cost of growing tobacco is concerned, a large and successful grower in Pennsylvania, some two years ago, published the following statement of cost and returns from a field of nine and a half acres: 215 3/4 days' labour of men from preparing the seed-bed up to the hanging in the barn, ?43; team-work, 38 1/2 days, with feed for 42 1/2 days, ?30; curing, stripping, and marketing, ?15: total, ?88. The net receipts were ?174; thus showing a profit of ?86. This was in a fairly good year.

These few notes show us that tobacco is a crop requiring a great expenditure of labour and care, and that even in America the profits of thirty pounds per acre, about which we have heard so much, are not always realised. The probabilities, however, are so much against our getting really fine qualities of tobacco, that it is doubtful if the necessary capital will be put into the business.

'WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS.'

I write these pages as a warning. I don't suppose any one will profit by it. From the time of Cassandra downwards, nobody has ever paid attention to warnings. But that is not my affair.

So far as my observation went, my analyst's private study had hitherto been confined to a short pipe and the last number of some penny dreadful; but I did not think it wise to check his new-born ardour; I contented myself by observing that I only hoped he would 'stick to it.'

I looked down the tube, but couldn't see anything at all, and made a remark to that effect.

I tried again, and saw a sort of network of red fibre.

I owned the soft impeachment.

'That's the maxillary gland of a rat.'

'Dear me!' I said.

'Yes. Isn't it lovely? Here's another.--Now, just look at that.' 'You don't know what that is?'

'Give it up,' I said.

'That's a section of the epidermis of the great toe.'

'Great toe!' I exclaimed in disgust. 'What on earth have analysts got to do with great toes?'

'Oh, nothing particular,' he said airily. 'But we like to have as much variety as possible. I should like to have a section of everything, if I could get it.--Here's another pretty slide; that is the section of a diseased potato; and this one is a bit of a frog's leg.'

'Very instructive, I daresay,' I remarked; 'but I hope you haven't made me spend twenty pounds merely to improve your acquaintance with frogs' legs and diseased potatoes. Mr Scrutin surely doesn't analyse such things as these?'

'A pleasant lookout,' I replied, 'if half-a-dozen of the commonest articles of food are habitually adulterated.'

'Rank poisons! That's manslaughter!'

And it did. From that day forth I have never enjoyed a meal, and I never expect to do so again. I have always been particular to deal at respectable establishments, and to pay a fair price, in the hope of insuring a good article. I have, or had, a very tolerable appetite, and till that dreadful microscope came into the house, I used to get a good deal of enjoyment out of life. But now all is changed. My analyst began by undermining my faith in our baker. Now, if there was one of our tradesmen in whom, more than another, I had confidence, it was the baker, who supplied what seemed to me a good, solid, satisfying article, with no nonsense about it. But one day, shortly after the conversation I have recorded, my analyst remarked at breakfast-time: 'We had a turn at bread yesterday at the laboratory--examined five samples; and found three of 'em adulterated. And do you know'--holding up a piece of our own bread and smelling it critically--'I rather fancy this of ours is rather dicky.'

'Nonsense!' I cried. 'It's very good bread--capital bread!'

'Take it, by all means. But if you find anything wrong about that bread, I'll eat my hat!'

'Better not make rash promises. I'll take a good big sample, and you shall have my report on it to-night.'

On his return home in the evening, he began: 'I've been having a go-in at your bread. It's not pure, of course; but there isn't very much the matter with it. There's a little potato, and a little rice, and a little alum; and with those additions, it takes up a good deal more water than it ought, so you don't get your proper weight.'

And with that the matter dropped, so far as the bread was concerned; but my confidence was rudely shaken.

'It's a rascally shame,' I said. 'If one can't put faith in the milk-jug, it's a bad lookout for the Blue Ribbon gentlemen. However, let us hope that the tea and coffee are all right.'

'If that's the case, no more ground coffee for me. We'll grind our own, and then we are sure to be safe.'

'You mustn't make too cocksure of that. Some years ago, an ingenious firm took out a patent for a machine to mould chicory into the shape of coffee-berries. Smart chaps those! And of course they can put anything they like into the chicory before they work it up.'

'That's pleasant, certainly. Then how is one to secure pure coffee?'

'You can't secure it, except by sending a sample to us, or some other shop of the same sort, to have it analysed; and if it's wrong, prosecute your grocer for adulteration. After doing that a few times, he might find it didn't pay, and give it up.'

'And how much would that cost?'

'Analysis of a sample of coffee, one guinea; analysis of butter, five guineas; analysis of milk, one guinea; analysis of tea, one guinea. Those are the regular charges for private analyses.'

'Rather expensive, it seems.--And how much would it cost to prosecute?'

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