ALBERT R. MANN 
 LIBRARY 
 
 New York State Colleges 
 
 OF 
 
 Agriculture and Home Economics 
 
 AT 
 
 Cornell University 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924001143340 
 
3. 
 
 THE 
 
 MEMEE'S EYEEY-DAY BOOK; 
 
 OE, 
 
 SKETCHES OF SOCIAL LIFE IN THE COUNTRY: 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 POPULAR ELEMENTS 
 
 OP 
 
 PRACTICAL AND THEORETICAL AGRICULTURE, 
 
 AND * 1^ 
 
 TWELVE HUNDRED LACONICS AND APOTHEGMS' EELATINO TO 
 ETHICS, RELIGION, AND GENERAL MTERATURE ; 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 FIVE HUNDRED RECEIPTS 
 
 ON 
 
 HYGEIAN, DOMESTIC, AND RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 " 'Would yon be strong 1 Go follow up the plough ; 
 "Would you be tboughtful "? Study fields and flowers ; 
 Would you be wise 1 Take on yourself a vow 
 To go to school in Nature's sunny bowers. 
 Fly from the cityj nothing there can ohann — 
 S^i^wisdom, strength, and virtue on a farm." 
 
 BY THE REV. JOHN I, BLAKE, D.D. 
 
 ACTHOE OF A FAMILY ENOTOLOP^DIA OF SENERAL LTTEEATDSB 
 AND A OENSBAL BIOGRAPHICAL DIOTIONAST. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY DERBY, MILLER AND COMPANT. ^^ 
 
 1851. 
 
S 
 
 521 
 2L3t 
 
 ■* 
 
 j^ro^-uj: i 
 
 Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
 
 JOHN L. BLAKE, D.D. 
 
 in the tjlerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
 for the District of Nctt Jersey. 
 
 J. jr. JONES, & CO , eTBREOTTPBE!^ B. O. JSNKIN3 PBlNTHa 
 
 183, William Street, N. T. 114 Naaaau St , N. Y. 
 
I can no where find so great sariafaction as in those useful pursuits. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following work has been prepared at intervals of lime 
 amid the supervision of a farm ; of moderate size, indeed, but 
 at first destitute of everything deserving the name of cuHure ; 
 literally, a waste, without buildings or fences. Possessing' some 
 natural capabilities for a desirable residence, his ^attention was 
 directed to it. Having had little or no practical "knowledge of 
 agriculture since he was a small boy, he had comparatively to 
 learn everything as he progressed. His habits and pursuits of 
 life had prepared him to look beyond the mere improvement of 
 his own premises ; to the subject of agriculture generally, and 
 especially to the social and intellectual interests of rural life. 
 Hence, he very soon abandoned the prosecution of some labors 
 on general literature that had been begun, in order that the 
 time appropriated to them might be directed to subjects sug- 
 gested by objects with which he had now become more imme- 
 diately surrounded. 
 
 Another work simply embracing the elements of agriculture 
 may not be needed. Works of that description are already 
 numerous ; and some of them from individuals far more compe- 
 tent than the author. We experience no want of good agri- 
 cultural books, but of a disposition in the agricultural commu- 
 nity to use them. There is an inexplicable prejudice against 
 book-farming, as it is called ; and, the presumption is, that 
 there is in our country not one farmer in ten, if there is one in 
 twenty, possessing a book of any sort on the subject. The 
 design of the author is to overcome this prejudice ; to induce 
 agricultuiTsts to avail themselves of the experience of others ; 
 
 Science must be combined with practice, to make a good farmer. 
 
Eesolve to edge in a little reading every day, if it is but a single sentence. 
 
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 IV PREFACE. 
 
 to study the best books on the subject ; to read the best peri- 
 odicals that relate to it, and to give their sons an education fit- 
 ting them for the occupation. The other portions of his work 
 are incidental to this. 
 
 For a long period it was found that Christian Missionaries 
 were unable to reach the heathen to whose country they were 
 sent, any more than agricultural books reach the class of per- 
 sons for whom they were designed, and who are most in need of 
 them. Hence, in sending out a colony of missionary laborers, 
 it has been found expedient that they should carry with them 
 a knowledge of the healing art, of surgery, of the mechanic 
 arts, and of agriculture. These were matters, in their applica- 
 tion, readily'understood and appreciated. By this means heathen 
 prejudices and superstitions were subdued or mitigated. An 
 intercourse between the parties was the natural result. The 
 latter ceased to be afraid of the former ; and the inference fol- 
 lowed, that if these strangers knew more than themselves about 
 medicine and the useful occupations of life, they might also be 
 in possession of a better religion. Thus by degrees tbey would 
 begin to listen to their teachings on the great subject for which 
 they had mainly been sent. This has been the best way to con- 
 vert the heathen. 
 
 The author availed himself of the policy described in the con- 
 struction of the present work. Instead of offering the rural 
 community a large volume, consisting of the didactics of agri- 
 culture, he is disposed to treat them with the titbits of domestic 
 economy, with bints on education, with prescriptions for health, 
 and especially with instructions for the better maintaining the 
 social relations of life. These are subjects which all more or 
 less understand ; in which all feel a deep interest ; on which 
 they are always prompt to receive instruction. With these 
 matters he has indeed mixed up fragments of scientific and 
 practical agriculture, designed to create a taste for the subject, 
 and to induce the reader to procure other works more elaborate 
 and complete upon it. If they can in this way have their pre- 
 judices against books of the class described removed, a new era 
 
 Sin is like a bee, with honey in its mouth, but a sting in its tail. 
 
and you will receive in due time the same in return. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 p. 
 
 i 
 
 .a 
 
 § 
 
 .2 
 
 
 will be formed in the history of our country. Then farmers 
 will no more think of living without these hatidmaids of profit- 
 able husbandry, than they would think of spading up their 
 ground, instead of procuring a plough for its culture. Hence, 
 the expectation is cherished, that wherever the present volume 
 finds friends, other works on agriculture will follow ; and, espe- 
 cially, that thousands in this way will be induced habitually to 
 read the periodical literature relating to it. 
 
 In calling the attention of persons to subjects with which they 
 are not familiar, particularly if those subjects have repulsive at- 
 tributes, there is danger of presenting too much in connection 
 with each ; that is, of giving too large doses. It is analogous 
 to furnishing unpleasant food or medicine in large quantities. A 
 little only at a time should be given till aversion to the subject 
 is overcome, and a relish for it is engendered. On this account 
 are read the hundreds of thousands of little tracts on religion, 
 where a large volume on a single religious topic would not be 
 opened. And it is believed, that if every State in the Union, 
 containing half a million of inhabitants, and in the same propor- 
 tion for more or less, would annually spend five thousand 
 dollars in publishing and distributing to every family prime 
 agricultui-al tracts, got up under a board of agriculture, the 
 increased products would pay the expense five times over. 
 
 The author has made no effort at originality in this work. 
 His ovpn thoughts are indeed in his own language ; but wherever 
 he found the thoughts of others well expressed, he copied them 
 as he found them, and usually without giving credit, preferring, 
 for convenience, to make a general acknowledgment. Besides, 
 in many instances, the style was so altered, where he borrowed 
 thoughts, it might be considered a greater injustice to ascribe 
 the whole to others than to give no credit at all. Frequently, 
 too, the same things are found in different works, and it was 
 more than he could do, if credit were given, to tell to whom it 
 was due. From the following he borrowed in this way all he 
 could: Encyclopedia Americana; Loundon; Thaer ; Johnson; 
 Featherstonhaugh ; Petzholdt; Low; Buel; Dana; Nichol- 
 
 The air is perfumed with the sweet breath of new-made hay. 
 _ 
 
a 
 ■a 
 
 and easy, where many persona can join together ; especially 
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 son; Buist; Fessenden; Cole; Skinner; Balfour; Gardner; 
 Allen; Tucker; De Bow; Davy; TuU ; Sprenghel ; Wilson; 
 New England Farmer ; Maine Farmer ; United States Farmer ; 
 Agriculturist ; Albany Cultivator ; Praiiie Farmer ; Ohio 
 Cultivator ; American Farmer ; Merchants' Magazine ; and from 
 more miscellaneous sources too numerous to be named even 
 in this summary process. 
 
 What is found on the social relations of rural life is exempt 
 from the admissions in the above paragraph. Here was a path 
 but little trodden. Here was a field rich in resources, but little 
 touched, and susceptible of yielding mental food beyond what 
 is now collected. Had its resources been duly estimated, the 
 labor bestowed upon it would have been more ample. The 
 prescribed limits of the work have been more than filled ; and 
 he hopes in a manner that will justify, in some other form, a 
 renewed eflfort farther to promote some of the most hallowed 
 interests of the country in which it is his proud destiny to live. 
 
 A bad workman is accustomed to quarrel with his tools. 
 
study, theo, to be cheerful and contented with thy lot ; . 
 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 -a 
 
 Or 
 
 DESIGN AND PLAN OF THE WORK. 
 
 Heaven speed the plough, ! Fair Nature's shuttle true ! 
 
 The farmer is lier weaver, and the field 
 Her web and woof! Long ages but renew 
 
 Proofs of her power, wliile rots the warrior's shield. 
 
 The title of tliis book is designed to denote its general, rather 
 than its specific character. An inference is not, therefore, to be 
 drawn from it, that directions are given for the labor of each 
 day in the year in chronological succession ; or that particular 
 portions of it are to be read in that order. This could not be 
 done. Rules must always be general. There may and should 
 be a formal scheme or programme of labor in the culture of a 
 farm. For this there may be prescribed rules, no matter how 
 comprehensive. Yet, the development of this programme and 
 the application of these rules, in certain respects, must be 
 adapted to varying circumstances. For instance, the well- 
 instructed farmer may calculate to accomplish some specified 
 object on a particular day, but that day may be stormy, so that 
 he must delay the labor till fair weather. He may be suddenly 
 affected with bodily indisposition. Hence, he must wait till the 
 return of good health. He may, too, calculate to accomplish a 
 succession of specified operations in a particular week ; but the 
 season may be a week earlier or a week later than anticipated, 
 so that he will find it expedient to vary the time for these 
 operations. Hence, the reader is to expect in this work such 
 an abstract of the pliilosophy of agriculture, analytically ar- 
 ranged, as will answer for the entire year, or for every day in 
 the year ; to be read, and studied, and applied, in accordance 
 with the varying circumstances which may be presented in suc- 
 cessive years. 
 
 Again, this work is not designed to give everything, or even 
 a moiety of the science applicable to agriculture, or of its prac- 
 tical details. This would require volumes in folio, instead of a 
 single one of humble dimensions. A complete system of agri- 
 cultural knowledge, got up in a style and form consonant to 
 
 If you would be happy when old, be temperate while young. 
 
honorable to work. Whea shall the glorious time dawn that intelligence 
 
 i 
 
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 Vm DESIGN AND PLAN OF THE WORK. 
 
 prevailing taste, would involve an expense inconvenient, it not 
 incompatible with the pecuniary means of the mass of agri- 
 culturists. Nor would they have suflScient leisure at their con- 
 trol to peruse and study it. And it would embrace an elabora- 
 tion of scientific technicality and of practical delineation, to 
 which their mental culture has not been adapted. The edu- 
 cation of farmers, generally, has been limited, and is conse- 
 quently defective ; only sufficient to meet the prominent exigen- 
 ces of persons in that sphere of society. Of course, voluminous 
 treatises on chemical, mechanical, and physiological agriculture, 
 filled with scientific terms and extended jjractical operations, 
 would not be suited to the taste and the apprehension of indi- 
 viduals who have received the elements only of a common edu- 
 cation. 
 
 Accordingly, this work is designed to embrace the popular 
 elements of agriculture generally, so condensed as to be within 
 the reach of persons possessing only limited pecuniary means ; 
 so perspicuous as to be understood and applied by individuals 
 of the most common education ; and, especially, so analyzed 
 and arranged, that an examination of its several parts may be 
 made in the short intervals of leisure under the control of every 
 farmer, without intrusion upon his hours appropriated to ordi- 
 nary manual labor. If he wish to find in an agricultural book 
 a few facts only, that may be contained in ten lines, how 
 repulsive it would be to him, if he had to read over a dozen 
 pages before he found what he wanted ! To wit : suppose he 
 were upon the point of planting his Indian corn, and wanted 
 instructions as to the best mode of preparing the seed — to pro- 
 duce speedy and vigorous germs, and to prevent the depreda- 
 tions of mischievous birds — how inconvenient, to say the least, 
 it would be to him, if he had to ransack a whole chapter on the 
 history and the constituent attributes of the article, before he 
 found what he then desired 1 Long chapters of science or litera- 
 ture in a book are like long roads without guide-boards or mile- 
 stones : they bewilder the eye ; they prevent quick and clear 
 perception ; and the sojourner in either is often perplexed in 
 ascertaining where he is. The author, therefore, in this work, 
 endeavors not only to divest its pages of whatever would be 
 avoided by the class of persons for whom it is especially de- 
 signed, but to place each article and each fact in a position to 
 catch a glance of the eye with the rapidity of thought, or the 
 motion of the printer's hand in setting type. And, instead of 
 encumbering the volume with matter to which, perhaps, nine- 
 tenths of these persons are indisposed, from habit or necessity, 
 he aims to collect a variety of facts, not ordinarily found in a 
 
 A good word for a. bad one is worth much, and costs little. 
 
it reaches beyond the grave. It liyes when their author is dead, 
 
 DESIGN AND PLAN OF THE WORK. IX 
 
 book on agriculture or domestic economy, and scattered, usually, 
 throughout whole volumes appropriated to that department of 
 literature. Thus a material reduction of expense is effected, in 
 addition to the convenience of having the whole in a single one 
 instead of a multiplication of volumes. 
 
 It is not presumed that everything in this volume will be 
 alike useful to each individual who may purchase it. That 
 would be an extravagant expectation. A single article or class 
 of articles may be found appropriate to the occupation of one 
 class of readers, while other portions of the work will be equally 
 appropriate and serviceable to those respectively making in- 
 quiries on other subjects. The following illustration is sug- 
 gested. Directions for the culture of strawberries might be of 
 no use to persons not engaged in it; or for the culture of bees 
 to those who do not keep them ; or for the making of cheese 
 to those who do not keep cows ; or for the reclaiming and fruc- 
 tifying waste lands to those who have none of the kind to be 
 cultivated. Each will be interested and benefited in finding 
 what relates to his own occupation or interests, while all will 
 have also a vast amount of facts,' and hints, and directions, bene- 
 ficial to the general interests of society. 
 
 No family should be without a book of the character of the 
 one here presented to the public. It would be most extra- 
 ordinary, if the cost of it were not saved many times over to 
 the possessor of it. Suppose the farmer should find in it a 
 description for making or preserving manures, more valuable 
 than his own previous knowledge ; suppose the gardener should 
 be led, by the use of it, to some new fertilizing agent — 'Or an 
 effectual antidote for bugs or insects, so destructive to vines 
 and fruits ; suppose the keeper of poultry should discover some 
 new hint for the better production of eggs and chicks ; suppose 
 the housewife should find a receipt for making bread, or cake, 
 or pudding, better than she had before made; or suppose the 
 groom should find directions for the better training of a horse, 
 or the preservation of the leather of the harness and carriage ; 
 how much would the community be benefited by such counsels ? 
 A hundred similar suppositions might be made in the various 
 departments of domestic and rural economy, and all tending to 
 the same result. What farmer has not spent weeks of labor, year 
 after year, without profit, because he did not know all the best 
 modes of applying it ? What fruit culturist does not annu- 
 ally fail of results, on the same account, more than equal to 
 the cost of a dozen copies of this book ? What housekeeper 
 does not now and then lose a piece of fresh meat, or a basket 
 of eggs, or a pot of butter ; or oblige her husband to eat a poor 
 
 The best snuff in the world is a. snuff of the morning air. 
 
to the fallow ground, the pruning-knife to the Tine, and the furnace 
 
 a 
 
 T3 
 
 § 
 
 DKSIGN A\D PLAN OF THE WORK. 
 
 dinner instead of a good one, against which she would be 
 guarded by the use of the Eeceipts with which she is here pre- 
 sented? 
 
 It is well known that many object to book-farming — book- 
 gardening — book-housekeeping— and book-stock-rearing. If 
 the objection were good, there should be no books in school ; 
 there should be no printed treatises on Navigation — or Me- 
 chanics — or Medicine — or Law. Then each youth would limit 
 his school attainments by the dimensions of his own peda- 
 gogue's pericranium ; each mariner would be able to consult 
 the stars only, and not Bowditch's Tables; the mechanic would 
 have no resource but his own brains ; the physician none but 
 his saddle-bags ; and the lawyer none but his empty green 
 satchel. Now, this is all nonsense ! What are books ? They 
 are, or they should be, the presentation, in a lucid form, of the 
 wisdom of experience — of practical men under different circum- 
 stances, For instance, law-books consist of abstract principles, 
 modified and explained in their application to the business of 
 society. Medical books give a detail of the most successful 
 modes of treating disease. And equally so are agricultural 
 books — they are the practical results of experiments in culti- 
 vating the ground, by the most intelligent and successful 
 farmers. So that, in reality, when an author gives a book like 
 the present to the public, the reader is expected to find — not 
 theories, simply — not vagaries of the imagination — not the 
 abstractions of metaphysicians — not the moonshine of love-sick 
 poets; but plain matters of fact — what one person has done, 
 and what another person has done ; — how one farmer makes 
 his cows yield milk and butter every year, equal to the sum 
 paid for them, in addition to the cost of their feed ; how another 
 causes his swine to earn their living in the production of ma- 
 nure ; how another converts worthless land into productive 
 soils ; how another gets a hundred bushels of corn and forty 
 bushels of wheat from the acre ; — and how another causes his 
 meadows to produce him an income equal to the interest of 
 five hundred dollars per acre. Or, if you please, how the gar- 
 dener or the horticulturist will support his family, and become 
 thrifty and independent, by the cultivation of land in extent 
 only sufficient to pasture one cow. Or, in fine, how the good 
 housewife, with small means, can enable her household to have 
 as good breakfasts, as good dinners, and as good suppers, as 
 can be had for two dollars per day at the best hotels. 
 
 No one can deny that one farmer will work hard, and be 
 miserably poor all his life. His hogs will be only half fed, and 
 never attain their proper dimensions. His cows will be poor, 
 
 The more business a man has to do, the more he can accomplish. 
 
living objects under liis care must render his labor the most sali-^factory. 
 
 DESIGN AND PLAN OF THE WORK. XI 
 
 and not yield half milk enough to pay oven for their scanty 
 feed. His garden will be ruined by his fowls, and overgrown 
 with weeds. His fences will be in ruins. All his crops will be 
 meagre, and not half equal in value to pay for the labor be- 
 stowed on them. In addition to all this, his family are poorly 
 clad — is without money, and in debt for whatever he purchases. 
 While another one, close by him, is prosperous in all he does. 
 His crops are good. His fences are in prime order. His gar- 
 den abounds with the best esculents for the table. His hogs 
 are fat. His cattle and horses are plump and sleek. His gran- 
 ary and larder give evidence of abundance. Besides, he is in 
 debt to no one beyond his ability to pay, and always has at 
 command cash for all needful purposes. Such exhibitions are 
 about us in every direction. Why is there such a diflference ? 
 Both of these persons had similar local and physical advantages. 
 Neither had obstacles beyond the other to overcome. Why, 
 then, in the process of a few years, have such diflferent results 
 been wrought out ? Evidently, because the latter understood 
 his business, and the former did not. No other reason can be 
 assigned. 
 
 The aim of the author is not to supersede the works already 
 before the public. Many of them are excellent. Where there 
 is one of them in use, he wishes there were a hundred. Nor 
 is it his design to compete with them in the extent of the in- 
 vestigations with which they are characterized. Some of them 
 are exclusively on the chemical nature of soils ; some on fertiliz- 
 ing agents ; and others on the physiology of vegetable nature. 
 These are all exceedingly necessary in advancing the ends for 
 which they are designed. As Text-Books in our Academies and 
 Colleges they are indispensable. To men of education generally, 
 likewise, they are of great importance. But to young persons — 
 or others — who have not had the intellectual culture previously 
 requisite, they are uninteresting and comparatively of little 
 value. Before one can read a book on History or Political 
 Economy, he must learn the names of the alphabet, and the 
 rules for their combination into words and sentences. Before 
 he can understand the canons of Rhetoric and Criticism, he 
 must learn the principles of Grammar. And before he can 
 fathom the higher regions of Mathematics, he must study com- 
 mon Arithmetic. So likewise it is in agricultural science. The 
 simple elements are first to be presented to the attention. When 
 these are understood, preparation has been made for higher 
 grades of improvement. It is the design of the author to fur- 
 nish this elementary instruction ; to remove popular prejudices 
 and errors prevailing on the subject ; and to place agriculture 
 
 Drinking water neither makes a man sick, nor in debt, nor his wife a widow. 
 
upon some particular employment; then persevere in it. 
 
 ■fe 
 
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 XU DESIGN AND PLAN OF THE WORK. 
 
 in the lofty position, anaong the various occupations of society, 
 it is designed to hold. The yeomanry of a country are its vital 
 energy — its meat — its drink — its raiment; and, by their intelli- 
 gence and consequent controlling power, should be its chief 
 glory. And the scientific farmer, too, may daily feel, that 
 through the laws of material nature, he is holding special coni- 
 munion with the Great Source of wisdom and goodness. It is 
 he that, in his ordinary avocations, investigates, analyzes, and 
 applies the mysterious laws which govern the world. In none 
 of his labors is there the least occasion for the legerdemain, the 
 quackery, or the knavery that so much, in other spheres of 
 action, enter into the business of life. 
 
 Another object of the author is, to combine with matter al- 
 ready alluded to, subjects usually treated of in separate volumes. 
 All of these need not here be enumerated. In the number and 
 among the more prominent, are Hints on the proper education 
 for persons in rural life ; a list of Books most suitable for the 
 little Family Library of every agriculturist ; the importance of 
 Newspapers and other periodicals for constant use ; the agri- 
 cultural influences that should be manifested in our general and 
 local governments ; and also various Tabular Corapends of per- 
 manent character. If these and other miscellaneous articles, to 
 be included in the volume, may be found elsewhere, they add 
 more value to the work than they do to its cost. Besides, in a 
 book, to be an Every-day Household Compend — a kind of 
 Vade-mecum for hours of leisure — all its contents in time will 
 become familiar as household words, and its teachings will be- 
 come so identified with all the mental associations of its mem- 
 bers, as to appear like intuitive knowledge, and, of course, to 
 have an every-day influence more ready and powerful than 
 arises from the exhibition of the same truths in any other form. 
 
 Nothing circulates so rapidly as a secret. 
 
into actioa It is calculation realized. It ia the doctrine of 
 
 •g, 
 I 
 
 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 
 
 Princes and lords may flourish or may fade^ 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
 But a bold yeomanry, their country's pride, 
 When once destroyed, can never be supplied. 
 
 It has been a popular error in our country, that the exercise 
 of talents is not necessary in the business of agriculture ; that a 
 person, naturally stupid, will make a decent farmer ; and that 
 education, in its common acceptation, is of no advantage to him; 
 and, perhaps, an injury. Acting on this ridiculous assumption, 
 how often has it happened, that if in a family one son was sup- 
 posed to have a little more intellect than the others, he alone 
 was favored with the advantages of education ; perhaps sent to 
 college ; then devoted to one of the learned professions, or to 
 merchandise ; while the others, without education essentially 
 superior to that of the cattle and horses, were kept at home to 
 till the ground. The consequence has been a natural one : the 
 business of agriculture has been degraded, and farmers have 
 been looked upon as a class inferior to those in other occupa- 
 tions. Society, in acting on such false premises, in the course of 
 time has converted mere fiction into a reality. For, if you treat 
 a class of persons as inferior to aU others, they soon feel and 
 act as if they were inferior — more and more so with the lapse 
 of time. By this process, the serfs of Russia have been re- 
 duced to their present degraded condition, scarcely indicating 
 that they belong to the same species of other men. And may 
 it not be supposed, that much of the inferiority of the African 
 race may be referred to a similar cause ? The cause is un- 
 doubtedly sufficient to produce such a result. 
 
 However, we deny altogether the truth of the assumption, 
 that the business of agriculture will ordinarily be followed ad- 
 vantageously by persons of no mental capacity. On the con- 
 trary, we affirm that the highest grade of talents will as much 
 lead to superior results as in other business and other occu- 
 pations. The ox, and the mule, and the horse, perform valu- 
 able service ; without them we should not be able to carry on 
 
 The miser starves himself that his heirs may feast. 
 
are,,sa3(Jest ; and when the soul 13 weary, and longs to pass away, 
 
 
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 14 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 
 
 the business of life ; especially on the farm. But, if they had 
 the reason of their owners, would they not labor much more 
 advantageously — without the cost and the delay of drivers? 
 So, likewise, with laboring men. If, for a long period, or 
 generation after generation, they are placed in positions to feel 
 as if they had not mental endowments above the brutes — to do 
 only what is prescribed for them — and they will become, as it 
 were, incapacitated for reflection and reason — will present a 
 spectacle of beings without soul — without mind — without am- 
 bition — and almost without self-respect. Even machinery, re- 
 maining a long season unemployed, df wood, becomes stiff and 
 unyielding, and, if metal, rusty and wholly unfit for use. Ani- 
 mal mechanism, likewise, in time, from perfect inactivity, will 
 lose much of its locomotive power. If the child were never 
 taught to walk, would it know how to use its feet and legs in 
 their appropriate functions? Surely not. Would the hands 
 and fingers ever present such wonderful exhibitions of skill in 
 embroidery, in painting, and in music, without previous instruc- 
 tion ? Surely not !' It is the same with the mind. It must 
 be exercised — it must be kept active — it must be taught how 
 to put forth its powers, or it will resemble the untaught, the 
 unused physical organs of man, and be even more inapt for its 
 legitimate offices than the rusty, and the stiff, and unyielding 
 machinery. 
 
 Persons in other occupations adopt a different process of 
 labor. The shoemaker, the blacksmith, the carpenter, the 
 wheelwright, the mason, and even the tailor, is ordinarily obliged 
 to serve an apprenticeship of years, before they are judged 
 capable of laboring in their respective trades. A man may be 
 a shrewd and even a profound merchant ; but who would trust 
 him, before he had been taught, to build a steam-engine ? A 
 man may be a first-rate physician or lawyer, but who would 
 think of going to him for the manufacture of a case of mathe- 
 mditical instruments ? Or who would think of going to the 
 shoemaker- for the repairing of his watch ; or to the tailor to get 
 his horse shod ? Yet while, by common consent — even, as it 
 were, by the instincts of society — an individual in other trades 
 is looked upon as a fool or a knave, if he advertise to do things 
 before he has learnt how to do them ; yet it is constructively 
 supposed that the merchant may leave his ledger ; the black- 
 smith his anvil and bellows ; the physician his nostrums ; the 
 sailor his quadrant and log-book ; and the tailor his press-board 
 and shears, and become a first-rate farmer, without instruction 
 and without books, in less time than is required to raise a pair 
 of whiskers. 
 
 Repentance without amendment is like pumping without stopping the leak. 
 
other day. We meekly replied, that we had nothing to o£fer but our 
 
 09 
 
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 d 
 bo 
 
 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 15 
 
 The whole of this popular prejudice, or popular error, or 
 ■whatever you please to call it, arises from a false estimate of 
 the very principles on which agriculture is based. If this earth 
 were a simple substance, not subject to chemical change ; if this 
 substance, under the influence of the atmosphere, the sun, and 
 the rain, when furnished with a particular seed, would produce 
 a particular vegetable in all its perfection, with the uniformity 
 and regularity of the formation of shot in the tower, from the 
 descent of melted lead ; or, if animals were the certain product, 
 in full and unvaried stature and perfection, of a single involun- 
 tary agent, those false assumptions might pass for realities ; and 
 first-rate farmers might spring up in profusion, and with the 
 rapidity of mushrooms in the nights of autumn. Instead of 
 this, the earth is a wide and deep laboratory of agents, com- 
 plex, and, to the unlearned, mysterious, which, by certain pro- 
 cesses of analysis and combination, under self-operating laws, 
 or the hand of well-taught man, will yield all the formations of 
 beauty and beneficence on which we gaze with wonder, and on 
 which it is ordained that we shall subsist. Why should it be 
 thought that it requires more talent and skill to convert iron ore, 
 one of these imbedded substances, into pure iron, then steel, and 
 then fine cutlery, than to convert others into wheat, or broccoli, 
 or rich fruit ? The untutored and unskilled Indian may, indeed, 
 by rubbing the former on a stone, produce a coarse cutting in- 
 strument ; but this bears about the same resemblance to well- 
 polished cutlery, that the agricultural products of the unskilled < ^ 
 operator bear to those products under the supervision of the 
 farmer who is skilled in Nature's mysteries. 
 
 It is by no means asserted that all agricultural knowledge 
 must be the result of manual labor. The professional man, the 
 mechanic, and the merchant, by reading and study, may under- 
 stand more of its principles than is acquired by the unlearned 
 and unthinking farmer in his lifetime. Ordinarily, principles 
 are learnt by reading and study, but, from the application, be- 
 come the reliable instruments used in all the departments of 
 labor. And it is no uncommon occurrence, that persons retir- 
 ing from other occupations, especially merchants and professional 
 gentlemen, and devoting themselves to agriculture, ultimately 
 become the very best farmers. Their past habits of life pre- 
 pare them for systematic and appropriate labor. They have 
 been accustomed to trace effects to causes and causes to effects ; 
 to investigate and comprehend the reason of whatever process 
 presents itself to their consideration. If any process fails to 
 yield the desired consummation, their business has been, in 
 subsequent efforts, to remedy the evil ; to vary the process so 
 
 B 
 ■a 
 
 to 
 
 a 
 
 He who knows himself best, esteems himself least. 
 
the wonted elasticity and strength. If you can live free from want, 
 
 bo 
 
 O 
 S 
 
 "C 
 
 ■&, 
 
 (0 
 
 ■a 
 
 16 
 
 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 
 
 as to meet every possible exigency in the case. A shrewd and 
 well-informed merchant is vigilant not to overstock the market, 
 ever turning his attention to articles of trade that will aflfbrd, 
 at least, a fair business profit. He trusts nothing unnecessarily 
 to blind chance ; to contingenees that are unnatural ; or to reck- 
 less impetuosity, which often guides the unthinking masses. 
 
 This mercantile discipline is the very thing wanted in agri- 
 culture, whesre everything should be done systematically, with 
 comprehensive regard to results ; to philosophical principles — 
 that is — the connection between cause and effect ; which guides 
 the skilful physician in administering medicine, or the chemist 
 in making complex and difficult experiments. Disastrous, 
 indeed, would it be to human life, if the physician were as ig- 
 norant or as heedless in his prescriptions for the maladies of 
 the human body as the farmer often is in applications to the 
 soil. And, let the merchant be as negligent, in reference to 
 financial results in his business, as the farmer often is to rational 
 and scientific calculations for good harvests, and seldom, indeed, 
 would he rise to affluence, or even obtain a competence. Hence, 
 if merchants generally, on relinquishing business — professional 
 men, from failing health or any other cause — and especially 
 politicians, who have completed their career in public life — 
 would uniformly devote themselves to rufal occupations, a green 
 and vigorous old age might be the reward to themselves, and 
 their wisely-directed labors in farming would be of immense 
 value to the great interests of the producing classes. Let this 
 be done, and the most prominent physical and mental attri- 
 butes of old age would not be seen ; the wane of human exist- 
 ence would frequently .exhibit the cheerful buoyancy of man- 
 hood in its prime ; and, what is equally desii'able, there would 
 be no waste portions of human life ; the whole of it, to its final 
 verge, as God ordained, would be crowned with deeds of useful 
 (Occupation, and with a full measure of social bliss ; and, hence, 
 at no period subsequent to childhood, would persons be debtors 
 to the world for a subsistence, but always casting upon her 
 bosom a full equivalent for everything drawn therefrom. 
 
 A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front 
 The veteran shows, and, gracing a gray beard 
 With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave 
 Sprightly, and old almost without decay. 
 
 In such a case, to whom would old age be burdensome, or an 
 uncomely excrescence on society ? To whom would it not be 
 honorable ? What, in dignity, could compare with it ? Who 
 would not strive to obtain it ? 
 
 He that believes his own relatives his beat friends is frequently mistaken. 
 
Do you doubt it ? For once, exert this influence ; give it wings, 
 
 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 17 
 
 
 As intimated, some persons have imagined, or affected to 
 imagine, tliat the agricultural profession is less honorable than 
 other pursuits of business. It is difficult to devise how such 
 an id«a should ever have been indulged ; by what process of 
 reasoning such a conclusion should ever have been reached ! 
 If individuals in it, by circumstances for which they were not 
 responsible, have been apparently degraded ; have been without 
 education and social accomplishments, surely there- is nothing 
 in the occupation itself to lead to degradation. Far from it. 
 This could be easily demonstrated. If a comparison were care- 
 fully instituted between' the husbandman and those of other 
 professions and occupations, it would bo found that important 
 advantages, on many accounts, are decidedly in favor of the 
 former. Let us glance at some of these advantages. 
 
 First. None can deny that the advantages for health are in- 
 calculably in favor of rural life. If this be not an honorable 
 incident to the husbandman, it is near akin to it ; a circumstance 
 that ever enters into our calculations in selecting an occupation. 
 Without health, of what value would be riches or honors, or 
 even life itself ? Then, let us look at boys, of corresponding 
 ages, from the city and the country. Are they both alike 
 flushed with health, and sound with the elements of powerful 
 maiihood ? No. The former are puny and pale, and without 
 muscular capacity, while the latter are large, and florid, and 
 athletic, almost like men. The former, too, are timid, while the 
 latter are venturesome, and even courageous. Look at men, 
 also, from the city and the country. Are they alike in stature, 
 in visual aspect, or in strength ? The very suggestion almost 
 leads to a smile. It is made simply to remove erroneous im- 
 pressions, and not in a tone of illiberality. This is the only ob- 
 ject. Still, it cannot be denied, that one is dyspeptic and 
 feeble, scarcely knowing what he can eat without injur}"-, while 
 the other has an appetite and digestive powers that enable him 
 to sustain nature from whatever food is placed before him, even 
 though coarse and unsavory. And, let there be occasions for 
 great physical exertion and exposure, as in conflagrations or 
 shipwrecks, or other unusual perils, which of the two will be 
 most efficient or the least injured from his efforts ? Let there 
 be opposing armies from the two classes, and, almost literally, 
 one would chase a thousand. 
 
 Again, let us look at women in the middle of life, from the 
 city and the country, and a similar variance will appear. At 
 this era of life in woman, health is the essential attribute to her. 
 Without it the purposes of her being are nearly lost, both to 
 herself and to the world. We will say nothing of muscular 
 
 . Tliose who go to law for damages are sure to get them. 
 
their motioa A guileful heart makes a guileful tongue and lips. It 
 
 18 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 
 
 ability for the ordinary labors appropriate to women ia the 
 domestic sphere. But look at them in another point of view. 
 The latter is surrounded by a healthy offspring, varying, ac- 
 cording to age and other circumstances, in number from the 
 twelfth to the forty-eighth part of a gross, while the other has, 
 perhaps, the fourth part as many, and they resembling so many 
 representations in wax, or plaster, or porcelain. Does this 
 prove nothing of the advantages for health in the country? 
 And, above all, look at girls, at an age to bud into womanhood, 
 from the city and the country. Let the picture be drawn from 
 real life ; or let each stand up before you. Of the former we 
 make no asseverations. But look at the latter ; see their elastic 
 steps— their bright eyes — their ruddy cheeks — and, especially, 
 their full feminine developments, which embody, according to 
 Edmund Burke, the most perfect principles of natural beauty. 
 Their hearty laugh denotes sound lungs. Their bewitching 
 smiles tell you that they are guileless, and at peace with the 
 world ; and they will exhibit no artificial coloring from rouge, or 
 breastworks of cotton, for they need not either. Nature, in 
 these respects, has completed her own work; has made them 
 as God intended they should be. 
 
 Second. Although individuals may be found in the city pos- 
 sessing more wealth than is possessed in the countrj', yel a 
 hundred thousand persons, being the entire population of a city, 
 do not possess, it is believed, the aggregate amount of property 
 possessed by the same number of persons in rural life. And, 
 if it were not so, the inhabitants of the latter are by far more 
 independent than those of the city. Farmers usually own what 
 they possess. This is not so in the city. And, if what we 
 usually term independence does not consist in owning what we 
 possess, and in eating, and drinking, and wearing, and enjoying 
 what we absolutely do own, it would be difficult to tell in what 
 it does consist. It is an undeniable fact, that in a vast majority 
 of cases in the city, even among those with all the externals of 
 abundance, persons do not absolutely own any material thing 
 wanted for personal comfort used by them. They may not, in- 
 deed, owe the butcher for the meat on their dinner-table ; the 
 grocer for their tea and coffee ; the tailor for the clothes they 
 wear ; or the mechanic for their furniture ; yet, may not the 
 money with which they paid for these things have been derived 
 from the banks to which they are indebted ? Nor does it es- 
 sentially alter the case, if it be said, that these persons severally 
 are less indebted to banks and individuals than other individuals 
 are indebted to them. This may, and often does, prove a de- 
 lusion. Suppose B owes A fifty thousand dollars ; that G owes 
 
 While the earth remaiijeth, seed-time and harvest shall not cease. 
 
wilJi politeaeSB in return ; and if you do But, you will still hav* 
 
 POPULAR ERRORS ABOUT AGRICULTURE. 19 
 
 
 B the same sum ; that D owes as much to C, and so on through 
 the alphabet ; and, finally, that the twenty-fourth on the docket 
 fails to the twenty-third man, where will the money be had to 
 pay these several liabilities ? Thus it will be seen that this en- 
 tire range of persons were neither living on their own means, nor 
 on each other, but on the means of some other parties, to be 
 made known in the day of trial. 
 
 If such persons fancy themselves independent, and can feel 
 any complacency and self-respect arising from real independ- 
 ence, they must use a diffei-ent kind of logic from that with 
 which we are acquainted. Now look at the independence of 
 the farmer. Tru«, he may work hard ; rise early and retire 
 late ; have brawny arms and a sunburnt face ; and may wear 
 clothes of a coarse texture; but, as the labor of the day is com- 
 pleted, he is literally at rest, and becomes refreshed by a night 
 of sound sleep — not interrupted by dreams of bankruptcy 
 among his debtors, or of solicitude for means to make his cash 
 balance good the following day. It is a wise providence that 
 the bread, and the meat, and the vegetables, of our own pro- 
 ducing, are peculiarly sweet. This is an inducement for cheer- 
 ful labor, as well as a rich reward for labor already performed. 
 And, while laboring, with what admiration does the husband- 
 man gaze upon his waving corn ; his bleating flocks ; his cluster- 
 ing trees ; his neat cottage ; and a thousand other things that 
 fill his soul with gratitude and praise ! That man may be the 
 envy of kings, with a landed tiile securer than the thrones on 
 which they sit. In the language of Shakspeare, he may truly 
 say, — " I am a true laborer. I earn that I eat, get that I wear, 
 owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad with every 
 man's good, and content with my own farm." Such a man's 
 food is wet with no tears, is cankered with no fraud, is stained 
 with no blood. And he may rationally add, I love the country 
 — the green, open country ; and would rather go forth, with 
 spade in hand, and "earn that I eat," than "chew the food of 
 idleness," or bask in the smiles of fashion. My theatre is the 
 country; my dome is the heavens; my curtain the dark blue 
 sky ; the sweet-scented honeysuckle and the green grass are the 
 carpet on which I tread. 
 
 With such varied associations, with such hallowed sympa- 
 thies, who would not live in the country ! The mariner may 
 tear himself from the endearments of his family, and encounter 
 the perils of the sea, for the sake of a livelihood ; but constantly 
 anticipates when he shall be relieved from such a dire necessity. 
 And, upon the same principle, the enterprising and the ambi- 
 tious may for a season dwell in the pent city ; but, if taste do 
 
 Tlie excesses of youth are drafts upon old age, payable with interest. 
 
reading. These endowments add brilliancy to youth and 
 
 20 FIRST LESSONS IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 not become vitiated, and the affections defiled, aspirations for a 
 return to the pure delights of rustic simplicity and beauty will 
 never cease to swell the bosom. 
 
 FIRST LESSONS IN AGEICULTURE. 
 
 Bead nature ; nature is a friend of truth ; 
 Nature is Christian, preaches to mankind, 
 And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 
 
 If a man apply to a tailor to make him a suit of clothes^ his 
 first care will be, to furnish the several materials needed in 
 their production. If he know the quality and quantity of these 
 materials, the business is quickly arranged ; but, if he does not 
 know, he makes tlie requisite inquiries, aware that, if one of the 
 articles is not provided, or that, if there is a deficiency in the 
 quantity of the others, his clothes cannot be completed. So, if 
 he is to construct a house, in the first instance he provides him- 
 self with a catalogue of the materials required in its construc- 
 tion. If he were not to furnish lime, the mason could not 
 make the bricks and the stones hold together. If he were not 
 to furnish nails, the carpenter would have the same trouble in 
 regard to the portion of it to be constructed of wood. Or, if 
 he were not to furnish glass, it is apparent he could have no 
 windows. This may appear simple, and almost childish. It is 
 indeed so. But let it be applied to one of the first processes 
 of agricultural life, and its pertinency will be evident. We will 
 suppose a case, to illustrate the subject. A merchant from the 
 city, wholly unacquainted with the chemical nature of soils and 
 vegetables, moves into the country and purchases a farm. His 
 first essay is to raise a thousand bushels of wheat, and five 
 thousand bushels of potatoes. He then ascertains that forty 
 acres of land will probably be required in the culture of each. 
 He accordingly measures off his land ; but, unfortunately, he 
 plants his potatoes upon the plat best suited to the growth of 
 wheat, and sows his wheat on that which would answer for 
 
 Prosperity is no just scale ; adversity is the only true balance to weigh friends. 
 
What delight is that mind able to receive and impart, which 
 
 FIRST LESSONS IN AGRICULTURE. 21 
 
 I* 
 
 a 
 < 
 
 his potatoes. The result to the scientific farmer would be most 
 obvious. Again, he makes another mistake. He is advised to 
 manure his lands. He promptly does so ; but he applies the 
 fertilizing agents designed for his wheat to the growth of his 
 potatoes ; and those adapted to their productfion are used oa 
 his wheat land. By this means, his first mistake is made ad- 
 ditionally ruinous to his expected profits. 
 
 In a subsequent chapter, it will be shown that vegetables re- 
 quire food as well as animals ; that without it, the former will 
 no more live and flourish than the latter. In the present place, 
 allusion is simply made to that fact. Now, further to illus- 
 trate the case of the novitiate in agriculture, another supposi- 
 tion is made. True, it is an improbable one; but it will serve 
 our purpose equally well. Upon a well-cultivated farm in one 
 of our fertile country districts, there suddenly locates himself a 
 rare genius of a gentleman, no matter whether from one of the 
 hitherto unknown islands of the Pacific, or direct from the 
 clouds. Our hero is wholly ignorant of animal physiology. 
 Our farm animals he had never seen. Yet he was enraptured, 
 with the horse, and bought one forthwith. With the rich flavor 
 of fresh butter he was delighted, and lost no time in providing 
 a stock of cows. And, although not particularly smitten with 
 the grunting brotherhood, yet, as they were seen about every 
 family establishment, he got up a full-stocked piggery. Like a 
 wise man, he made ample provision for their sustenance. For 
 his horse he purchased a chest of tea, a bag of coffee, and a 
 baiTel of whisky; and for his cows an abundance of salted 
 mackerel and smoked herring. Now all tliis would be no more 
 preposterous and ridiculous than to provide food for vegetables 
 which their natures do not require ; than to give potatoes the 
 particular elements of subsistence and growth indispensable in 
 the production of a good crop of wheat. A person can no 
 more obtain a good growth of this grain from soils destitute of 
 the vegetable constituents or food lequired in its formation, than 
 a woman can obtain good butter from churning a barrel of beer. 
 The same is true of the production of all vegetables. 
 
 There is a wonderful analogy between llie animal and the 
 vegetable world. This analogy is so conspicuously developed, 
 that the same general laws must prevail in both. Indeed, cer- 
 tain portions of tlie vegetable world are removed at so short a 
 distance from the lowest portions of the animal world, one 
 might almost presume that both are parts of the same system ; 
 the same, as asserted in the hypothesis, that the highest ^rade 
 in what is called the irrational animal creation approaches so 
 near to the lowest grade of the human species, they both must 
 
 Losing a cow for the sake of a cat: the Chinese interpretation of going to \a.w. 
 
a cloud here and there — a, bright sky — a storm to-day, 
 
 22 FIRST LESSONS IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 have been designed for a single chain— the numerous grada- 
 tions being links in this chain. No one can deny that much 
 might be said of the phiusibility of such a theory — a multitude 
 of facts might be reached, interesting to the speculative mind, 
 and puzzling, in the extreme, to those who adhere with tenacious 
 jealousy to the systems and dogmas embraced in childhood 
 and youth. Without entering into philosophical speculations 
 of this sort, it is sufficient for our present purpose to use well- 
 established facts in animal economy, to establish corresponding 
 ones in the vegetable world. The latter, to the unlearned, may 
 not be apparent ; but, to the man of science, they are as well 
 authenticated as the former. 
 
 The position has been assumed, that vegetables require food 
 as well as animals. But this is not all. We well know, that 
 the same kind of food is not suited to the constitution, and the 
 taste, and organs of all kinds of animals. By their distinctive 
 organs, one class is carnivorous and another granivorous. Those 
 of the ocean generally require different food from those on the 
 land, ^nd, among the latter, the instincts of hunger are nearly 
 innumerable. The noble horse and the enduring ox are disposed 
 to feed on the verdant grass. Grain and insects are particularly 
 suited to the tenants of the poultry-yard. The dog will con- 
 tentedly gnaw his bone for hours. The hog gloats on the ref- 
 use of his owner's table, while even carrion is adapted to the 
 appetite of the vulture. The food that some would devour 
 with instinctive rapacity, others would instinctively avoid as 
 they would poison. And that which wo«ld nourish one spe- 
 cies impoverishes another, even to death. The vegetable in- 
 stincts for food are alike various. Think you, that the dainty 
 celery would flourish in company with the moss, in the barren 
 regions of the poles ? or, that upon the farm, the several articles 
 of culture require precisely the same elements to produce a 
 luxurious growth ? True, certain elements may be needed by 
 all in common, only in different quantities ; while one will be 
 nourished mainly by one elementary principle, a second by a 
 different elementary principle, and so on through the whole 
 range of vegetable nature. 
 
 The philosophy of what is called a rotation of crops is based 
 on these characteristics of vegetable formations. Each crop, in 
 its turn, draws from the earth much of the elementary principle 
 required for its growth. A second succeeds, and, requiring a 
 different elementary principle, does the same. So do the third 
 and the fourth; each taking from the soil what is needed in its 
 own production. And hence, if Indian corn, for instance, were 
 planted year after year, till all the element essential in its forma- 
 
 Men oftep employ their first years so as to make their last miserable. 
 
man who commanJs the best respect — an oath never 
 
 FIRST LESSONS IN AGRICULTURE. 23 
 
 a 
 I 
 
 tion were exhausted, the farmer could no more obtain another 
 crop of it than the dairywoman could obtain butter from churn- 
 ing buttermilk. She might, indeed, mix more cream with her 
 buttermilk, and renew the process of churning with success ; 
 but, otherwise, she could not. The farmer, in like manner, if 
 determined on having still another crop of Indian corn, must 
 cast upon the soil manure, containing the exhausted element, to 
 supply the deficiency occasioned by previous crops. Then, he 
 may succeed ; but, if he neglect thus to replenish the soil, he 
 will not succeed. He may plough his land ; he may plant the 
 seed ; he may dig about it ; but, in the season of harvest, will 
 find himself disappointed of an adequate compensation for his 
 labor. 
 
 The subject may be further elucidated. The farmer takes a 
 sack of corn to the grist-mill, and the miller gives him in return 
 a sack filled with meal. Tiiis is a commonplace transaction. 
 It is done time after time, the year through. Whenever the 
 sack of corn is carried, a sack of meal may be brought back. 
 But, let him go without his sack of corn, and the miller would 
 promptly decline to deliver him the meal, saying, bring your 
 corn, and you ma,j expect meal in return, but, otherwise, you 
 cannot expect it. The farmer has no more right to expect good 
 crops of grain from his fields, without manuring them, than to 
 expect meal from the miller not furnished with the grain of 
 which it is to be made. Or, suppose the farmer take a sack of 
 oats to the grist-mill, and requests the miller to grind it into 
 corn-meal ; but the miller replies to him. This I cannot do ; I 
 cannot make corn-meal of oats ; if you desire the corn-meal, you 
 must bring me a sack of Indian corn. Nor is this any more 
 unreasonable in the farmer, than to expect a particular crop 
 from a particular lot of land — for instance, a crop of wheat, 
 when the land is only in a condition to produce potatoes, or 
 Indian corn, or buckwheat. 
 
 From these palpable cases, and others that might be given, 
 it is apparent that a farmer should be skilled in the nature of 
 soils, and the physiology of vegetation. He must know the 
 constituents of soils, and the constituents of difl'erent vegetable 
 substances. Or, he must pursue his agricultural labors as if he 
 knew them. It is not, indeed, essential that he learn them 
 from books. He may be ignorant of tlie scientific terms used 
 in their description. He may cultivate the earth as the parrot 
 talks or the mocking-bird sings, in simple imitation of others. 
 He may bountifully manure his land, because his father always 
 did it before him ; or because his neighbors do it. He may 
 make and preserve manures on the most approved principles. 
 
 Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures. 
 
receive a trifling injury, do not go about the streets proclaiming it, 
 
 24 FIRST LESSONS IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 in the way of imitating others, till the habit has become a kind 
 of instinct. And in the same manner he may pursue, in bis 
 process of farming, a rotation of crops, without the least con- 
 ception of the philosophy of it. This may answer a tolerable 
 purpose. It is far better than not to do it at all. Tiie house- 
 keeper may never have seen a book on chemistry ; she may not 
 imagine that she understands an atom of the science ; yet, she 
 duly proportions the materials for making bread — she mixes 
 them — she kneads the compound ; she allows a suitable period 
 for fermentation ; all being a chemical process ; and hen, prop- 
 erly regulating the temperature of her oven, produces a better 
 article than could be produced by the most learned college pro- 
 fessors. This is all well ; and it is hoped we shall not be obliged 
 to eat poor bread till our wives and daughters become able to 
 deliver a profound lecture on the science so well developed in 
 many of the operations of cookery ! And, if we were to have 
 no good crops fi'om our farms till all our farmere and laborers 
 become adepts in chemical agriculture, it is apprehended the 
 population of the world would ere long be reduced, by famine, 
 to a point that would prevent the sale of wild lands. 
 
 Nevertheless, the science is equally important, whether the 
 agriculturist adopts it understandingly, or only m the manner 
 suggested. It is most evident that such a process is a grovel- 
 ing and degraded one. He takes no more pleasure in it than 
 the parrot in uttering the words heard from those around her, 
 without knowing their signification ; or than the mocking-bird 
 feels in rehearsing the notes of other songsters, without feeling 
 the power of the melody ; or than the young linguist in repeat- 
 ing the words and sentences of an Unknown language. The ox 
 labors patiently ; but does he experience the pleasure in his toils 
 that he would if he understood that they were designed to pro- 
 duce future supplies of sustenance ? It cannot be presumed. 
 So the agriculturist, who understands the reasons for all the 
 operations necessary for successful results, feels a peculiar satis- 
 faction ; he sympathizes with the man of science ; holds commu- 
 nion with him in word and thought ; and, especially, he rises 
 by ecstatic impulses to fellowship with the Great Being who is 
 over us ; feeling a conscious dignity, felt by no one else, in being 
 able to comprehend a measure of the laws by which He governs 
 the world. 
 
 Our reraembering an injury often doea more hurt than receiving it. 
 
you could not review with a quiet conscience on your dying bed. 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 25 
 
 a, 
 
 OS 
 
 I 
 
 Ex 
 
 13 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 
 
 What great effects from little causes spring! 
 "What wealth does well-directed labor bring 1 
 
 Previous to going upon what might be viewed tlie main 
 portion of our work, I will introduce a chapter on education. 
 This may be judged an incident suitable for an appendix, rather 
 than a leading article for so prominent a place. But it should 
 be kept in mind that most farmers have families of children, 
 whose mental culture may properly take precedence over the 
 culture of the farm. It is not less important that a man pro- 
 vide intellectual food for his children, than that he provide 
 wholesome aliment for the nourishment and growth of their 
 bodies. There should be no delay in providing it ; and it should 
 also be of the best kind. If they have not a sufficient quantity 
 of food for animal sustenance, and of proper quality, they will 
 become stinted, and their physical powers will not be developed ; 
 the same as calves and young swine, in a manner, are never able 
 to recover from it, if not properly fed. If you desire that your 
 son become a man of good stature, healthy, athletic, and 
 powerful, nourish him prudently and freely with invigorating 
 food, give him habitual exercise, judiciously adapted to his in- 
 creasing strength ; let him gradually become exposed to the air, 
 the weather, and whatever surrounding influences attend the 
 labors of manhood. There may be instances where all this will 
 be insufficient ; where naturally feeble constitution, sickness, or 
 some unlooked-for opposing circumstances, will prevent the an- 
 ticipated result. These, however, are exceptions to a general 
 rule, and furnish no argument against the practice recom- 
 mended. 
 
 But, it is even more important that the parent, if he desire 
 his children to become distinguished in society for respectability 
 and usefulness — his sons capable of filling the high stations of 
 the republic, as magistrates, as legislators, as merchants, as pro- 
 fessional men — and his daughters to become the wives of such, 
 
 Prepare for sickness in health, and for old age in youth. 
 
valuable, which we give ourselves. It is this last which fixes 
 
 26 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 or, in all cases, as mothers, at the head of the household, capa- 
 ble of educating their own children, to exhibit the Characteristics 
 of an accomplished lady — as feasible and attractive on the farm 
 as in the city drawing-room ; — if the parent desire this, let him 
 give his children the proper intellectual food. On a farm there 
 is but little danger but what children will be amply provided 
 in regard to their phj'sical powers ; but, in regard to mental 
 culture, it is not so. In another chapter it has already teen 
 intimated, that among agriculturists the tendency is to neglect 
 education. This is one of the greatest errors, and in its conse- 
 quences the most ruinous, prevailing in our country. In our 
 country it is of the utmost importance that the agricultural 
 portion of the community be well educated. Here we have no 
 privileged orders ; no heieditary distinctions of rank. The ad- 
 ministration of our government is open to all. Its excellence 
 and its perpetuity will depend on the purity and the wisdom of 
 those y?ho are to control it. If, in coming time, the honest sons 
 of our honest yeomanry, with a sufficiency of natural and ac- 
 quired talents, are placed in our Halls of Legislation — in our 
 Cabinet Councils — and on our Benches of Justice — we need not 
 apprehend but what the glory of our republic, to generations 
 far in the future, will be the admiration of the civilized world. 
 We should have nothing to fear from such men ; they and their 
 families are identified with the great interests of the couijtry ; 
 they would consider it their duty to preserve and advance these 
 interests ; and they could have no motive or temptation to neo-- 
 lect them. But, when our yeomanry, our mechanics, and the 
 other producing classes of our country, are sufficiently wanting 
 in wisdom and patriotism to allow political paupers, dema- 
 gogues, and political gamblers, to occupy the administration of 
 our government for a protracted period of years, we shall be 
 compelled to inscribe upon the arch of our Political Temple, in 
 the sublime language of the prophet Daniel — Mene, Mene, Tekel, 
 Upharsin. 
 
 This is no wild rever'y of the imagination; it is no hicrh- 
 wrought dream of the hypochondriac. Who are now the tiiily 
 good and great men, as politicians, of our country ? Who were 
 they in the generation gone by ? Who, in our conflicts for in- 
 dependence, and national honor, and national rights, have 
 caused their names to be written on the scroll of fame ? Mostly 
 the sons of working-men. So it must be hereafter. Hitherto 
 moreover, these persons, generally without the advantages of 
 early education, by the force of native talents, and the propi- 
 tious influences of concurring circumstances, reached their hitrh 
 destination. They had not the powerful obstacles to be e'n- ■ 
 
 Only good and wise men can be friends ; others are but companions. 
 
the cheek of sorrow, tlun to have possessed the weaUh of John 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 27 
 
 u 
 a. 
 
 (=1 
 
 countered, hereafter to be in the way of similar men. Political 
 speculators are of more recent date in our country. Then they 
 were few in number, and timid in their movements. Political 
 licentiousness had not then become a tree so large, with roots 
 so d«ep and firm, as to withstand human power to cast it down ; 
 and with spreading branches so wide as to shelter and protect 
 thousands of unprincipled traitors to national integrity. Hence, 
 hereafter, there must be far more attention paid to education — 
 to the diffusion of useful knowledge, especially among the yeo- 
 manry — to enable good men the better to expose tlie sophisms 
 and the heresies of political knavery ; or we shall be surprised, 
 on awaking from a bewildering revery, to find some cunning 
 Delilah has removed our hoary locks, and made us as powerless 
 as was the ancient giant. 
 
 We have our Law Schools, our Medical Schools, and our Di- 
 vinity Schools ; but where are our Agricultural Schools ? Per- 
 haps, in the whole country, we have half a dozen schools, par- 
 ticularly adapted to the circumstances and the interests of the 
 yeomanry. Is it not a most inexplicable fact, that notwith- 
 standing about two-thirds of all the Common Schools of the 
 country are supported by farmers, and are for the education of 
 the children of farmers, there is scarcely an atom of the instruc- 
 tion given in them having reference to the duties, or the inter- 
 ests, or the conventional usages of agricultural society ? At- 
 tend one of their annual or quarterly exhibitions, and you would 
 not suspect, from the examinations or the rehearsals, that these 
 children knew that they are the sons and daughters of farmers ; 
 that all their interests and all their anticipations are blended 
 with the simplicity — the picturesque scenery — unpolished re- 
 aUties of rural life. Save the elements of education, which are 
 and should be common to all classes, they are no more instruct- 
 ed in the arts and mysteries of their own particular sphere of 
 life than though they were the children of Red Men in our 
 western wilderness. If the fact were not incontrovertible, it 
 would be incredible. All this is fundamentally wrong ; and it 
 is the consequence of a want of interest on the subject. It is 
 not known that more than one Agricultural School-book has 
 ever been published in this country ; and that, although pos- 
 sessing great merit, was never much used, such was the pubUc 
 apathy on the subject. 
 
 Again, it is known that in the State of New York large ap- 
 propriations of money have been made for establishing in every 
 niche and corner District School Libraries. The act was a noble 
 instance of wisdom and liberality. Such a territory deserves the 
 name of Empire State. With such liberal provision for increas- 
 
 Ooe good head is better than a great many hands. 
 
and a cabbage so natural that lie was obliged to 
 
 28 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 
 
 ing the ditFusion of useful knowledge, her farmers and her me- 
 chanics may become as much distinguished as her merchants — 
 models to the yeomanry and the citizens of the whole country. 
 The number of these libraries is far greater than any on« would 
 imagine not familiar with the topography and statistics of the 
 State. And the number of volumes in them all is surpassing 
 calculation, the libraries varying generally from two to four 
 hundred each ; mating, it may be, at the present time, five 
 millions of volumes. Yet, strange to tell, how few of them are 
 particularly suited to the interests of an agricultural community ! 
 True, there are no certain data at command to settle the ques- 
 tion ; but from a tolerable knowledge of American bibliography, 
 and witli the names of those gotup by the principal publishing 
 houses that furnished these libraries, it is believed there is not 
 one volume in fifty belonging to them particularly adapted to 
 the use of farmers. You may probably find in them twenty 
 volumes of Scott's Novels, Cooper's Novels, Marryatt's, and 
 even Bulwer's Novels, the Mysteries of Paris, and the like stufi^, 
 where you can find a single volume of the class most needed. 
 This is more absurd than to fill up a library for the especial use 
 of Medical students with such books as Tillotson's Sermons, 
 Gill's Commentary on the Bible, Mather's Magnalia, Neal's His- 
 tory of the Puritans, Hopkins's System of Divinity, Salem 
 Witchcraft, and the Memoirs of Jemima Wilkinson. 
 
 On no account should the attention to elementary education 
 in our country schools be diminished. Let all the members of 
 the household be not only correct, but elegant readers; and 
 reading, in the long evenings of winter, becomes a pleasure. 
 If, for a succession of years, they be habitijally employed in this 
 delightful exercise, a fund of knowledge in history, in bioo-ra- 
 phy, and in general literature, will be acquired of unspeakable 
 value. Correct spelling, too, should nev;er be disregarded or 
 neglected — it is one of the very decencies of elementary educa- 
 tion ; and in time may be effected by reading. So will the 
 correct use of language or practical grammar. All, too, should 
 be familiar with the philosophy of figures, or common Arith- 
 metic ; farmers and mechanics, as well as merchants. But this 
 is quickly accomplished. With a very little instruction at 
 school, boys on a farm will perfect themselves in it, by countincr 
 
 the cows, the poultry, and the hills and rows of corn with the 
 
 inductions that will necessarily follow, called inductive arithme- 
 tiQ. Then theie is Geography and the elements of Astronomy, 
 that should make a part of common school education. With 
 the former, at the present day, every boy and giil in the coun- 
 try should' be well acquainted. If ignorant of its principal 
 
 Pride' increaseth our enemies, but putteth our friends to flight. 
 
BO the attacks of envy, notwithstanding their number, ought not to 
 
 ■§ 
 
 ■I" 
 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 29 
 
 features, they will appear ridiculous. Yet an intimate knowl- 
 edge of it is acquired in a short time, from the assistance de- 
 rived from the superior maps and treatises now in use. 
 
 All the above branches, with good teachers, in country towns 
 where there is opportunity for attending school from three to 
 six months annually, may be acquired by the time children are 
 ten years old ; leaving eight or ten years more to be occupied 
 mainly in acquiring some of the general higlTer branches of ed- 
 ucation, and the branches particularly appropriate to particular 
 occupations. If all this period in school, with the long winter 
 evenings, and the other leisure to be gleaned up in rural life, 
 be devoted to useful studies, our farmers will not only become 
 thoroughly versed in the mysteries of agriculture, but would be 
 able to converse advantageously with men of science and liter- 
 ature ; to discuss questions in philosophy and metaphysics ; and 
 to engage in all the details of legislation in the councils of the 
 nation. They will become the leading men of the country ; 
 men of sound judgment ; men prone to habits of rigiid investi- 
 gation, ; and, what is of far more importance, not abstractionists, 
 but thorough, persevering, practical men. 
 
 In the succeeding departments of agricultural education I 
 would have Book-keeping by Single Entry at least, needed by 
 every farmer in keeping his common accounts — a labor, by the 
 bye, which may be done properly by his wife and daughters ; 
 Chemistry, so far, certainly, as its principles are involved in cul- 
 tivating his lands ; Geology, likewise, to the same extent ; and 
 then Natural Philosophy, so far as it can be made a source of 
 amusement, or be rendered subservient to agricultural opera- 
 tions. Mechanical Philosophy, in sundry labors on a farm, is of 
 great use. Yet all this only cai-ries the farmer to the threshold 
 of the great Store-house of Knowledge adapted to his inter- 
 ests and his daily necessities. Where is horticulture, with all 
 its enchantment of flowers and fruit ? Children be taucht to 
 learn the names of the stars and their constellations, and remain 
 ignorant of the organs in that countless multitude of blooming 
 nature, from which they inhale the most fragrant odors, and on 
 which the eye revels in ecstactic admiration ! Be taught to 
 learn the magnitudes and the motions of those far-distant orbs, 
 and still remain ignorant of the distinctive attributes of the 
 different kinds of fruit with which their tables are loaded, and 
 from which, if properly regarded, may become to the farmer a 
 source of important revenue ! 
 
 Yet even more important to the farmer do I esteem animal 
 physiology. To me it appears absurd that children should be 
 taught to remember the names of the different capes and bays, 
 
 Never marry without love, nor love without reason. 
 
himself; lie maintained, therefore, a friendship that not only 
 
 30 THE EDUCATION OP FARMERS. 
 
 and the different peaks of mountains, in the most distant parts 
 of the globe, and still remain ignorant of the names of the sev- 
 eral bones in their own bodies ; of the organs through which 
 the blood so wonderfully pursues its rapid movement ; and, in- 
 deed, of the several functions incident to animal life and mo- 
 tion ! What is there in the wide universe so marvelous as the 
 formation of the human structure ? What knowledge to us so 
 important as this wonderful machine — to comprehend its com- 
 plicated action, so that, if one of its nicely-constructed wheels 
 is marred and moved from its proper place, we may apply all 
 suitable aid to restore it ? In addition to the use of appropri- 
 ate compends on the subject, let the town physician deliver a 
 lecture or two every year in each one of our District school- 
 houses, for the benefit of parents and j children ; and who can 
 estimate the advantage of the practice ? It would do more 
 good than a cart-load of medicine dealt out where it is not 
 needed, as it often happens. And to the agriculturist the 
 anatomy and physiology of farm animals is, as it were, of greater 
 importance. Without a knowledge of the particular points in these 
 animals, well understood by the Stock amateur, we cannot duly 
 estimate their value, one would think, indispensable in the rais- 
 ing or purchasing of them. Without a knowledge of their physio- 
 logical habits, we cannot, most surely, be enabled in the best 
 manner to promote their health and their growth. And with- 
 out a knowledge of their anatomical organization, we cannot 
 duly provide for them if lame or sick. 
 
 There should be, therefore, at least in every town, a cabinet of 
 farm animal skeletons ; and, as often as once a year, there should 
 be lectures on them. These lectures should be delivered by one 
 or more of the District school masters, who should be chosen 
 partly in reference to their competency for that service ; unless 
 some farmer, or the son of a farmer, in the town were able aad 
 disposed to do it. But, at all events, every boy in these schools 
 of a competent age should be instructed in the science. On 
 sundry kindred subjects, lectures in a similar way should be 
 maintained : on geology, on agricultural chemistry, on budding 
 and grafting fruit-trees, on compost manures, and, indeed, on an 
 almost innumerable number of subjects. In that case, our 
 country District schoolmasters would be men of character and 
 sufficiency of learning ; they would have in society a reputable 
 position ; and the schools themselves would be the fountains 
 from which would annually go forth young men of talent and 
 genius to enrich the producing capital of the country. 
 
 Is it said that teachers then would be required of a higher 
 grade of competency to instruct than those now employed ? 
 
 More credit can be thrown down in a moment, than can be built up in an age. 
 
dispatch af a strong one. A weak man in office, like a squirrel in a 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 31 
 
 .3 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 Tliat is the very point at which we aim. Only employ such 
 teachers throughout the country, and the elevation of farmers 
 will he speedily efl'ected ; not simply in competency for their 
 own appropriate sphere of labor, but as men of distinguished 
 intelligence in political economy, in politics, and in whatever 
 else is connected with the fundamental interests of society. It 
 may be said, too, that such teachers would cost more than the 
 people can afford to pay. That is all flummery. Is it not 
 cheaper to pay thirty dollars for a cow that will give fifteen 
 quarts of milk a day, than to give twenty dollars for one that 
 will yield only ten quarts a day ? If one schoolmaster will 
 enable children to learn as much by the time they are fourteen 
 years of age, as another will teach them by the time they are 
 eighteen, is not the former one cheapest, if ten dollars more is 
 paid for him than is paid for the latter ? The question is too 
 plain to require an answer. Let these views on common school 
 education be carried into practjpe, and the agricultural commu- 
 nity will readily appreciate the results. As much as their edu- 
 cation has heretofore been neglected, and as much as they have, 
 of course, been depressed below their proper level, there is no 
 deficiency ih them to comprehend any subject whatever, when 
 properly placed before them. 
 
 The author will here make reference to an incident in the 
 history of his own hfe. Such allusions are not usually in good 
 taste ; but the one referred to is so well fitted to corroborate 
 the correctness of those views, he is unwilling to permit the 
 occasion to pass unimproved. It may be still known to a por- 
 tion of the community, as readily as such things are ordinarily 
 forgotten, that in the early part of his life, he paid not a little 
 attention to education and school literature. He was in advance 
 of the age. Then scarcely an American school-book had been 
 published. Several of the prevailing features of the school- 
 books now in use originated with himself, although he is con- 
 strained to admit, that in the same sphere of labor others have 
 arisen, and so far outstripped him, that in his advanced age he 
 is as much behind the times as he was then in advance of them. 
 With this preliminary he will state his incident. 
 
 When a sophomore in college, forty years since, he was applied 
 to, by a third party, to teach a district school in a distant sec- 
 tion of the country during his winter vacation, a thing then 
 very common with collegiate students. The terms were under- 
 stood to be twenty dollars a month and beard. The scene of 
 his labors was to be in a locality of wealthy, plain, illiterate, 
 but common-sense farmers. On his arrival they were all stran- 
 gers to him ; and they, on the other hand, plentiful, like mos- 
 
 Men may blush to hear what they were not ashamed to act. 
 
censoriousiiess in the world than tliere now is. Our Master could love 
 
 32 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 
 
 quitoes, as the Blakes are in the countiy, had never before 
 beard his name, having expected one of his classmates, who was 
 prevented by sickness from fulfilling his engagement. It took 
 them not a little time to become familiar with his cognomen, 
 consisting, as it did, of five letters only, combined in a monosyl- 
 lable. Different ones would pronounce it over and over, so as 
 to be sure to get it correct, that they might' not insult the 
 schoolmaster by addressing him with a misnomer. Fortunately, 
 on another tack, he was less repulsive. Although a student of 
 college, in manners and dress he retained muclj of the freshness 
 of the hard hills of his native granite state. This was Common 
 ground, on which his patrons could meet him in full fellowship. 
 Never will he forget the gushing sympathies, from old and 
 young, male and female, like a mantle, soon spread over him. 
 Never, never, will he forget the kindness he here experienced. 
 Plain in manners and in dress — illiterate, too, as these people 
 were, not a few of them had soijls big as the souls of prin- 
 ces. 
 
 Yet, with all this fair opening tp him, a mistake of sad and 
 deep interest had been made. Instead of allowing twenty dol- 
 lars a month and board, this sum was what had always been 
 paid, including board. Here was a dilemma of no ordinary 
 difficulty from which to be extricated. What was he to do ! 
 Sixty dollars he needed on his return to the university to pay 
 his college bills. This sum he expected to receive from his 
 three months' labor. The season was too far advanced to seek 
 similar occupation elsewhere. It was the lesser evil to go to work 
 where he was, and carry back with him to his classic halls only 
 half of the expected amount of money. He knew the Presi- 
 dent was a sensible and kind-hearted man, having, by his own 
 exertions, raised himself from the condition of a poor boy to 
 the honorable station he then held ; and would of course make 
 favo^ahle allowance to a pupil, perplexed as the writer was. 
 Therefore, he resolved to go to work forthwith in his school 
 with all diligence and fidelity. This he did with as much ear- 
 nestness and untiring perseverance as though he were to have 
 received one hundred dollars a month. He took his oldest 
 scholars to his own I'oom evenings, where he lectured them and 
 drilled them till they thought of nothing else but the business of 
 the school ; the spirit spread to all' the classes ; but one im- 
 pulse animated the whole of this juvenile mass of mind. Their 
 improvement, to their parents, soon became a matter of admira- 
 tion and conversation. The report, as news usually spreads in 
 a country town, spread like prairie-fire before the wind. Chil- 
 dren from other school districts crowded in ; the committees 
 
 Many come to bring their clothes to church rather than themselves. 
 
the depravity of the human heart, must be themselves depraved ; but 
 
 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 33 
 
 of other districts came to witness their progress ; and before 
 the three short months were gone, the master was thought to 
 be a prodigy 1 
 
 Now, good reader, for the moral. These plain farmers 
 resolved to do well by the master. From private sources they 
 raised the money, and permitted him to return with his sixty 
 dollars in his pocket ; and also engaged him at twenty-five dol- 
 lars, per month, and board, for the subsequent winter. And 
 afterward, when broken down in health, and expecting an 
 early grave, some of these generous-minded-' souls furnished 
 him with a good horse, saddle, bridle, and portmanteau, with 
 which he spent a season in traveling ; and was thus enabled 
 to regain his health, and again to pursue his own studies. So 
 it wouM- be, generally, in our country schools, if the teachers 
 would induce the children to learn as they might learn, and as 
 they ought to learn — to learn inj^ree or four years, what usually 
 occupies them ten or twelve years — and then not well learned — 
 the parents would understand the difference, and would govern 
 themselves accordingly ; they would understand the difference 
 as well as they would the difference between two laborers on 
 a farm, one accomplishing double the work of the other. 
 
 And it is designed to make the above little incident the basis 
 of a little moral instruction to the young reader. In school, 
 generally, the inculcation of good moral principle is as neces- 
 sary as instruction in the arts and sciences. Without moral 
 principle and moral courage, the genius and the learning of Sir 
 Isaac Newton and of Benjamin Franklin will -never raise an 
 individual to the height of real greatness. And to boys, and 
 young men especially, I would say, on the farm, in the work- 
 shop, and in the counting-room, be faithful to your employers- 
 work as well for them as you would for yourselves ; not less 
 assiduous, not less persevering, if laboring for small wages, than" 
 though you were assured of the highest compensation. This 
 has been the maxim of the author through life. This should 
 be the maxira of every young man especially ; for it will-, in 
 the end, alvpays secure employment for him ; and, what is infi- 
 nitely better, the confidence and the friendship of all who 
 know him. And if a young laboring man of decent appear- 
 ance and manners has become wearied and almost discouraged 
 in unsuccessfully seeking employment, let him present liimself 
 before some respectable farmer^ offering to work for nothing 
 rather than not be occupied at all^et liim apply himself as 
 above suggested, and he will, assuredly, in a short period, ac- 
 quire in the neighborhood a reputation worth more than regu- 
 lar wages, and which ever afterward will secure him a desirable 
 
 g 
 
 t 
 
 Doe often repents of saying too much, but seldom of saying too little. 
 
is in nothing more apparent than in those moral phenomena 
 
 
 f 
 
 i. 
 
 34 THE EDUCATION OF FARMERS. 
 
 station. With such moral principles I would have the sons of 
 farmers educated. 
 
 It is not easy to enumerate all the branches of learning ap- 
 propriate to the wants and the circumstances of a farmer. Ge- 
 ometry, in addition to the branches named, will certainly be of 
 use to him; he cannot measure his own lands without it. 
 Nearly all farming implements involve in their construction the 
 principles of mechanical philosophy. Is it asked how geology 
 can be used by the farmer ? The answer is simple. Tlie first 
 object of this science is to furnish him with a knowledge of the 
 component parts of this earth, and of course of the nature of 
 soils. A volume of facts could be given to show this ; but a 
 single one is sufficient. In New Jersey there are tracts of land 
 now worth from fifty to a hundred dollars an acre, which a few 
 years ago were not worth fencing. The application of marl 
 has effected the change. Witfeout that knowledge the land 
 would have continued as worthless as at first. And cannot en- 
 tomology, or a knowledge of irisects, be applied to farming? 
 In the year 1837, a single species of insect, the wheat fly, cost 
 the State of Pennsylvania several millions of dollars. The 
 canker-worm, the grasshopper, the cut-worm, the rose-bug, 
 and numerous other insects, -frequently present themselves, 
 though small, yet powerful enemies to the farmer, who, of 
 course, has occasion to understand their weakness, while he has 
 such fatal proofs of their power. 
 
 Sanda form the mountain, moments make the year. 
 
•errore on tire safe ade, Tims, r.-e seldom regret having been 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 'Tis education forma the youthful mind ; 
 Just as the t'^ig is beat, the tree's incUned, 
 
 It is by no means proposed to establish colleges ifor th« ag- 
 ricultural community distinct from those now in existence. 
 Most of these now belong to. it, inasmuch as they were institu- 
 ted by it. No statistics are at hand to determine what portion 
 of the graduates has been from this part of our population. It 
 is believed, nevertheless, that it is very large ; perhaps three- 
 fourths or seven«eighths. If so, the instruction given in them 
 should be substatltially ada{)ted to the wants of rural life. And 
 it is believed, that not only a very large portion of college stu- 
 dents are from the country, but that, on the completion of 
 their education, they settle in the country. The fact seems so 
 evident, it is unnecessary to spend time in proving it. How 
 small is the number of educated clergymen and lawyers in the 
 cities of New England to that in the country ! A moment's 
 reflectioh 'will enable any one to fonm some tolerably correct 
 idea on the subject. 
 
 The inquiry, therefore, is an appropriate -one, amd of the first 
 importance. Do our Atoerican colleges, established and mainly 
 supported by our yeomanry, contain that system of education 
 required by their sons ? To a certain extent, they doubtless 
 do. The elements of science are the same in ail the occupa- 
 tions of life. These elements embrace the great principles of 
 nature, and are the foundation of all knowledge — to the faimer, 
 to the professional man, and to the mechanic. There cannot, 
 therefore, be one system of the elements of science for one class, 
 and another system for another class. In the higher depart- 
 ments of science there may and should be special adaptations 
 of it to -qualify different individuals for the various wants of 
 society. It is not needful that the education of farmers should 
 embrace the higher branches of mechanical philosophy, of phi- 
 lology, of mathematics, or of metaphysics. Nor that the edu- 
 cation -of the clerical profession should embrace the intricacies 
 of the healing art ; or that the education of the legal or the 
 
 The greatest blessing is a pleasant friend. 
 
fish, may be made to deposit this matter in the form of drops or 
 
 •a 
 
 s. 
 
 p4 
 
 36 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 medical profession should embrace the subtleties or the illimita- 
 ble labyrinths in philology. Or that the education of the mer- 
 chant should embrace the peculiar adaptations of science to 
 departments of knowledge needful to either of the above classes 
 of persons. Much the same is true in reference to different 
 branches of literature. Our law schools, with competent pro- 
 fessors at the head of them, are necessary to prepare young 
 men for the bar, and especially for the bench. Our medical 
 schools, with their learned professors, are alike needful, to pre- 
 pare students for the profession of surgery and its kindred labors, 
 in the art of preserving health and life. Our theological insti- 
 tutions have their appropriate programme of study, to prepare 
 the members of them to wield with eloquence and power the 
 didactics of the pulpit. The merchant also should have a 
 course of mental discipline equally distinctive and extensive, 
 especially in history and political economy, to qualify him for 
 the diversified ramifications of trade. And, though last in order, 
 not least in importance, there should be departments in our col- 
 leges to impart the adaptations of science to agriculture. In 
 these departments geology and chemistry will display their 
 untold mysteries. To make them complete, there should be in 
 each a model farm, so that theory and practice may go to- 
 gether ; the latter making the former well understood, and not 
 forgotten. 
 
 With such an organization in our colleges, the sons of farmers 
 might repair thither without danger of being spoiled for the 
 honorable and useful occupations of their fathers. And, with- 
 out returning with a feeling of contempt for the practice of ag- 
 riculture, they would bring with them a description of learnmg 
 that would be useful and well understood in their paternal man- 
 sions. Here their fathers and their uneducated brothers — here 
 their mothers also, and their sisters, would become listeners to 
 their evening lectures ; would imbibe from these familiar domes- 
 tic elucidations a knowledge of those secrets in agricultural and 
 domestic eeonomy of which they had seen many demonstrations 
 without comprehending the legitimate source. Hence, every 
 farmer's house to which belonged one who had been favored 
 with collegiate education, would become one of the most inter- 
 esting schools ; would be to the great, interests of agriculture 
 what every Christian family is, with its fireside altar and high- 
 priest, to the great interests of religion ; the polemics and prac- 
 tice of each being made impressive and effective, from being 
 made familiar by an every-day presentation of them to the 
 mind. 
 
 Nor would this be a termination of the delightful reflection 
 
 Idleness is the parent of future remorse. 
 
over a new leaf, and live as they ought. The members of such 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 37 
 
 I 
 
 .0 
 
 s 
 
 of light received at the alma mater. No, this is a species of 
 light not to be confined within walls of brick and stone or en- 
 closures of wood ; there are no elements of the cloister apper- 
 taining to it ; expansion and diffuseness are its very essence ; its 
 rays, as free as the rays of the material sun, are cast in rich 
 and varied profusion upon the face of the earth ; causing vege- 
 table life and beauty to spring up all around us like the dense 
 exhalations of a summer morning. Our young family lecturer 
 ceases not his efforts with the evening discourse or the' break- 
 fast-table colloquy, without illustrative experiments. In the 
 morning he equips himself with appropriate habiliments for 
 manual labor, of which he had not become ashamed. Other- 
 wise, even more than ever, he considers it an honor and a pleas- 
 ure to be a co-worker with nature ; using his own hands irt 
 those processes by which infinite wisdom gives perfection and 
 sustenance to animal an4 vegetable life. Thus he exhibits to 
 his associates in daily toil what he saw and what he did 
 on the model farm of college ; making an impression as dis- 
 tinct and complete as the daguerreotype, which tells with un- 
 bribed accuracy the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
 the truth. 
 
 Let there be such an agricultural department in each of our 
 colleges, and it will no longer be a proverb that college spoils 
 the sons of farmers, unless it be for the learned professions, in 
 which comparatively but few recruits are required. With such 
 a mental regime for our yeomanry, we shall no longer be dis- 
 gusted with a long period of indecision in our sons, with their 
 bachelor diplomas spread before them, marveling what profes- 
 sion and occupation they shall adopt, yielding them the means 
 for a subsistence suited to their dignity ; and, at last, nine- 
 tenths of them probably failing in this, become literary paupers 
 for life, alike disgracing themselves and their families. Whereas, 
 under the culture we prescribe and recommend, they would be- 
 come a blessing to their families and to society, and at last would 
 acquire an honorable position not reached by one in a thousand 
 in the learned professions. 
 
 On the plan we propose a farmer's son is sent to college, 
 ordinarily, in a measure to become a teacher to the members of 
 his own family, and to be its representative in society. Hence, 
 what would be expended for his education is not a tax on the 
 family for his individual benefit, but a kind of family , invest- 
 ment, by which the whole, in its collective capacity, is to be 
 improved and enriched ; which also is the fact to each one indi- 
 vidually. Nor are the advantages of his education confined to 
 his own family ; they extend more or less to "the neighborhood. 
 
 Few men are aware of the importance of rigid economy. 
 
and health. The mosey in a few years thus expended by such 
 
 38 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 i w 
 
 a 
 
 ■3 
 
 and even to the . town in wliioh he resides. The light of the 
 sun might as -well be shut by high fences and walls to a par- 
 ticular farm, as the light of science. In both cases it is diffused 
 freely within given spheres. Its reflections go from one to 
 another, and from object to object, till all become cheered by 
 its genial irradiations, and there springs up a vast panorama of 
 living splendor. Our social habits, moreover, are favorable to 
 the most enlarged results. The example of one individual be- 
 comes a type of. action to a whole mass of mind and physical 
 power. Does the agriculturist stand with folded arms, de- 
 murely gazing upon his own lands, sterile as if smitten by the 
 everlasting anathema of the Almighty, when those of his neigh- 
 bor adjoining) by a cheap process of culture and manuring, have 
 been made fruitfi^l like a garden ? Does he cast a glance of 
 proud complacence on his own farm animals, meagre like shad- 
 ows, when those of his neighbor are plump and sleek ; made 
 so, sinlply by better supervision ? No. He will blush with 
 shame. He will resolve to be wiser. What one does, a whole 
 community, under favorable auspices, will do. In this way an 
 entire community may be regenerated and made bright with 
 deeds of beneficence and glory ; or, on the other hand, may be 
 degenerated, as often seen, and made a moral and physical 
 waste-place. 
 
 It would be difficult to over-estimate the importance of a 
 healthful example in the various details of agriculture any more 
 than in morals and religion. It is an engine of power, moving 
 forward with increasing velocity, till resistance becomes una- 
 vailing. And were I to resolve to revolutionize the world in 
 some one of its great features, I would exhibit an individual of 
 commanding influence, in bold relief on a broad picture, and others 
 in situations to receive, severally, impressions from him in every 
 possible aspect. These impressions I would again and again 
 have imparted and transmitted from one to another ; from mass 
 to mass, till the whole were made identical in all the attributes 
 for which he is signalized. Thus, while the mere declaimer in 
 axioms and syllogisms^ — in dogmas and theories, is raising his 
 ramparts and his engines for defence and for assault, I would, 
 taking advantage of the sympathetic impulses of our nature, 
 carry conquest and victory with irresistible sway ; and, while 
 he would be establishing allegiance by statutes and mapacles, I 
 would, as before, establish it by a spontaneous and universal 
 gush of kind affection and perpetual fealty. 
 
 But a model farm, of the character named in connection with 
 each of our country colleges, would be advantageous, not sim- 
 ply to boys and young men educated in particular reference to 
 
 He who, denies his sins, does not atone for them. 
 
may have vanished from the scene, the charm of woman's 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 39 
 
 practical agriculture. It would be useful to others also ; to 
 those designed for the learned professions, and even to such as 
 are not designed for any regular occupation in the way of labor. 
 What an influence it would have upon their general health ! 
 Let those engaged in collegiate study, especially prior to the 
 full development of their physical energies, spend a few hours 
 daily in manual labor suited to their years and their strength, 
 and the effect on their health will be incalculably great. Were 
 this done through the whole period of elementary education, we 
 should not have so many dyspeptics among the educated classes 
 as we now have ; so many would not have all their worldly 
 hopes blasted by pulmonary compliiints ; and we should not be 
 compelled in sadness and sorrow to see so many eminent scholars, 
 with genius to reach the highest grades of fame, going down 
 to an early grave ! 
 
 With proper physical education, to be h^d on a farm school 
 thus connected with college ; and then, thus connected with the 
 professional school — or, in the absence of this, something else 
 as a substitute for systematic bodily exercise^ — scholastic life 
 might be blessed, even to old age, with vigor and all the elastic 
 attributes of youth. Especially as a taste for rural occupation 
 and enjoyment, thus formed and rendered a kind of instinct or 
 second nature, would lead ever afterward to a due measure of 
 active labor for the preservation, in its full integrity, of the mus- 
 cular system. Nor should it be foigotten that this physical 
 exercise, this invigorating of the animal system, conduces equally 
 to the strength and the development of the intellectual man. 
 If the feeble mind does not invariably inhabit the feeble body, 
 it frequently does; and it is not unphilosophical to conclude 
 that feebleness in the latter indisposes, at least, to great strength 
 in the former. Or, if the elements of mental power actually 
 exist in a frail physical structure, they exist, like latent heat, un- 
 discovered till the application of external agents makes it man- 
 ifest. There is no want of facts to render certain thjs hypothe- 
 sis. They exist all around us. Society is full of them. 
 
 The suggestions here made would be found, on experiment, 
 to be no worthless theories. The best interests of society would 
 result from thena. Indeed, society would then present some 
 prominent characteristics, now discoverable only as exceptions 
 to its general contour. What a desideratum would it be, to 
 behold a generation of scholastic and professional gentlemen 
 enjoying, during the course of natural life, and presentmg to the 
 world all the internal and external rich attributes of hale man- 
 hood ! Now, too many of these classes of our brethren, m 
 appearance, carry about with them the pale visages and the 
 
 Of no day can the retrospect cause pain to ^ good man. 
 
and richly, too, dark days of weary conflict and toil, and long 
 
 •a 
 
 40 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 feeble footsteps of that curse entailed on the hunian species in 
 paradise ; not, Indeed, literally death in the day of first trans- 
 gression; but, from til at day a gradual wasting of aninaal 
 strength, till nature becomes unable to sustain itself. This, on 
 some accounts, is less desirable than death itself. When this 
 takes place during the full possession of mental vigor, the soul 
 seems clad in all its glory, to wing its flight to another and a 
 better world. 
 
 There is another point of view in which the importance of a 
 farm school, connected with a college, becomes apparent. It is 
 still to be kept in mind, that the appropriate instruction for 
 practical agriculture is to be a part of the regular course of 
 collegiate study. This and the farm should go together ; 
 either alone will be deficient in meeting the wants of young 
 men. The primary, ostensible object of a college is to pre- 
 pare men for the learned professions. Formerly, in our coun- 
 try, nothing else was thought of in relation to it. Since the 
 benefits of education are more widely diffused in society, it is 
 found necessary to adapt the instruction of colleges to other 
 objects, or else to estabhsh separate schools for them ; to wit, 
 Norman schools, so denominated, and agricultural schools. To 
 our appTehension it is far preferable to have such establishments 
 and all kindred ones connected with our colleges, and made dis- 
 tinct departments of them, with distinctive professorships. Let 
 there be a professor whose special duty it shall be to give 
 instructions in relation to agriculture ; and one, if needful, with 
 his appropriate cognomen, to perform the ofiices of the Norman 
 school-teacher. So, if the circumstances of our country require 
 the highest grade of instruction in other departments of knowl- 
 edge^ — ^for instance, civil engineering — let there be a special 
 professor in every college for it. 
 
 If such organizations in our colleges be made, they will 
 become universities furnishing all the higher grades of mental 
 culture demanded by the age in which we live ; and, the affec- 
 tions of the people and the pecuniary resources of the whole 
 country, so far as needed, will there become concentrated and 
 combined, producing an elevated standard of intellectual endow- 
 ment not otherwise attained. It is not possible in separate 
 establishments to effect that elevation of purpose which is here 
 attainable. The amount of funds required in separate establish- 
 ments is much greater than is requisite for the accomplishment 
 of the same end in one large institution. With large means, in 
 education as well as in business, large achievements are within 
 our reach. With small means the results will be proportionably 
 small. Besides, where a very large number of young men are 
 
 I 
 
 g 
 
 A 
 
 M 
 
 tr 
 
 13 
 
 
 Imitate the dove in innocence; and the serpent in wisdom. 
 
whether in the prolonged somicj of its ripple-sor the stern music of its 
 
 S 
 3 
 
 3 
 CD 
 
 .a 
 
 til 
 
 o 
 1 
 
 ja 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 41 
 
 brought in contact with each other, youthful impulses are more 
 readily made operative than where only a few act in this way 
 on each other. There is likewise a respectability, a nationality, 
 and consequently a wide-spread controlling influence in one case, 
 not to be expected in the other. 
 
 As already intimated, a knowledge of agriculture, as it may 
 be thus acquired, in connection with other collegiate studies, 
 will be found in our professional men of immense value to the 
 community. There is scarcely a county town in New England 
 or the Middle States but what has within its limits more than 
 one professional gentleman who has been graduated at college ; 
 ordinarily from four to six ; and, it is believed, making an aver- 
 age of four to each town. These are clergymen, lawyers, and 
 physicians. Suppose, as it often happens, that these gentlemen 
 siiould uniformly spend their leisure in making agricultural im- 
 provements, and thereby stimulating their fellow-citizens to do 
 the same. What a change thereby, in a few years, would be 
 wrought ! A new aspect would be given wherever this was 
 done. Waste lands would be converted into fertile fields. 
 Small crops would be succeeded by large ones. Good, sub- 
 stantial fences would take the place of those which had for 
 years existed in ruins. Tidy and well-painted houses would 
 everywhere greet the eye, instead of those which had previously 
 exhibited a spectacle of neglect and decay. The farm animals 
 would all participate in this marvelous change ; and, instead of 
 an appearance of poverty, there would be the most gratifying 
 evidence of plenty, of comfort, and of thrift. 
 
 If the clergyman, in making his pastoral visitations, were to 
 avail himself of the opportunity to introduce casual suggestions 
 to his parishioners on all matters connected with this subject ; 
 to point out defects in their habits of husbandry ; to specify 
 particulars in which they would find great advantage from 
 change, his presence would be doubly acceptable : he would 
 promote their temporal as well as spiritual interests ; and, in 
 many instances, it might be ascertained that his counsels in 
 relation to the former had yielded to them a pecuniary advan- 
 tage equal, and more than equal, to the sum they annually con- 
 tributed to his support. Indeed, it is confidently believed that 
 every clergymatt in a country town, in the way named, and 
 without the least interference with his appropriate labors, might 
 benefit the farmers of his flock, in the aggregate, more than his 
 entire salary ; that they would be enriched, though never attend- 
 ing his ministration, to an amount beyond their quota of minis- 
 terial tax or contribution, by his residence among them. It is 
 well known that some clergymen have done far more than this ; 
 
 It were no virtue to hear calamities, if we did not feel them. 
 
and deSp bed ! What spoils from all climates, -what works of art from 
 
 43 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 tliat their influence has been felt beyond the limits of a parish 
 or a town, and even throughout whole counties.. 
 
 The physician, in making-' his circuit among his patients, 
 aight do as much good in this way as the clergyman ; and, 
 even move, for he is continually upon some itinerancy, giving 
 him the very best opportunities to make observation, and to 
 administer counsel. And, if the lawyer of the town has not 
 enough of leisure from his profession to devote an equal amount 
 of time to the agricultural interests of his clients and neighbors, 
 they are in a condition to require moral as well as agricultural 
 improvement. This, however, lies not within our present limits. 
 The subject of present remark is the feasibility existing in most 
 country locations, for the minister, the doctor, and the lawyer, 
 to be of service to the agricultural interests of that community, 
 beyond the entire sum they draw from it ; so that their own 
 professional services become in reality a perfect gratuity to it. 
 The subject is certainly worthy of consideration ; and especially 
 when viewed in connection with a department in each one of 
 our colleges for the promotion of agricultural knowledge. 
 
 Does the reader ask, What can be done ? The answer is a 
 simple one. Let the subject be impressed upon the attention 
 of state legislators. Let public grants of money be made to 
 endow colleges with funds for carrying out this theory. Let 
 the minds of professional gentlemen in the country especially be 
 directed to it ; and &bove all, let gentlemen of wealth, charita- 
 bly disposed to advance these interests, give it their countenance 
 and pecuniary aid. It is by such combined influences and such 
 well-directed efforts that all great enterprises are matured and 
 carried to their legitimate consummation. 
 
 Tliere are other considerations on the subject which should 
 be presented. If thei-e were in each of our colleges an agri- 
 cultural department, with its professor and model farm, on 
 which the students generally might labor without interference 
 with their classical studies — say two hours each day — they 
 would not only become scientific and practical farmers, at the 
 same time of obtaining a classical education, but the profits of 
 this labor would pay no trivial portion of the expenses of their 
 education. Some, destitute of otlier pecuniary means, might 
 contrive entirely to support' themselves when thus at college. 
 Thus a way would be opened for thousands of young men, now 
 unable to obtain a classical education without embarrassrnent to 
 their fathers, or involving themselves in a debt that would hang 
 upon them for years, like an incubus, possibly paralyzing all 
 their best energies. Such young men, in connection with keep- 
 ing district schools during their winter vacations, might deliver 
 
 Intentions, as well as actions, must be good to be acceptable. 
 
■which sliall have repose till the resurrection morning. But who shall 
 
 I 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 43 
 
 lectures on agriculture, doubling the amount of tlieir remunera- 
 tion, in addition to the public good to be derived. Let there 
 be, for instance, in connection with the ten thousand district 
 schools in the State of New York, ten thousand different courses 
 of agricultural lectures annually, and who can tell the benefits 
 that will result from it ! Let the same be done throughout the 
 country, and in a few years its agricultural features will be 
 essentially changed. New impulses will be given to our yeo- 
 manry in every niche and corner of the republic. Increased 
 profits will everywhere be realized. And an elevation will be 
 imparted to moral character hitlierto unknown. 
 
 Let it be generally known that our young men may thus 
 labor and support themselves when at college^ and thousands 
 will avail themselves of this facility who would otherwise grow 
 up in comparative ignorance. This would also render labor 
 more reputable. Instead of being ashamed of it, they would 
 exhibit their seared hands and enlarged muscles, as evidence of 
 their own efficiency of character; deriving from it an independ- 
 ence and self-respect never experienced when relying on their 
 parents or charitable associations for maintenance. Does not 
 the statesman and the scholar in the wane of life look back on 
 such a prehminary course to eminence with peculiar pleasure ? 
 Is it not proclaimed, as it were, on the house-top, as a circum- 
 stance demanding universal respect and homage? Besides, young 
 men thus supporting themselves, would obtain an education far 
 better than if supported without any agency of their own. It is a 
 fact at vaiiance with experience and philosophy, that persons ordi- 
 narily of any age do not profit as much from what comes to them 
 spontaneously and gratuitously as from that which is purchased 
 by their own toils. If young men labor with their own hands to 
 pay teachers for instruction, be assured they will lose no oppor- 
 tunity to profit from that instruction. No time will be wasted 
 in drowsy indolence. Every hour will be appropriately conse- 
 crated to study. Not even will minutes be squandered as of no 
 value. The dawn of each morning and the midnight will 
 jointly testify to their vigilant assiduity. Each day will add 
 to their stock of knowledge; and each year will advance them 
 to higher grades of mental vigor, and to higher positions in pub- 
 lic renown. 
 
 Not a few merchants desire to make farmers of a portion 
 of their sons. As the mercantile community becomes more 
 crowded ; as the profits of trade become less certain and more 
 diminished ; and, as more attention is given to agriculture, 
 the number of such cases will be increased. Where there has 
 been a single son of a merchant, in years past, removed from 
 
 If every one had his own ends, all would come to a bad end. 
 
life of a criDiinal fur ten long years. May it bring him to deep 
 
 
 44 COLLEGES FOR THE SOISS OF FARMERS. 
 
 the counting-room to the plough, the time is in prospect when 
 there will be a score of them. To meet such contingences, how 
 immensely important would it be that such organizations exist 
 in our colleges, where these young men might become farmers 
 in knowledge while pursuing a course of classical culture ! And 
 all, if on leaving college they become disinclined for other occu- 
 pations, might advantageously devote themselves to rural avo- 
 cations. Moreover, how convenient for merchants themselves, 
 having been unfortunate in business, or from other causes, 
 retiring to the country ; also, for professional men, on account 
 of bad health, or otherwise inclined to do the same, to be able 
 to fall back for aid on an agricultural education, received in 
 early life ! Indeed, it would be a wise policy if every merchant 
 and every professional gentleman were to have had, in connec- 
 tion with early education, a knowledge of some mechanical 
 trade or of agriculture, on which there might be dependence in 
 a period of necessity. 
 
 It has been assumed that the higher branches of agricultural 
 education should be given at our colleges rather than at a school 
 especially instituted for that department of knowledge only. It 
 is more economical, as already suggested. And there are other 
 reasons for it : the same that might be assigned for educating 
 those of other occupations and professions at a general institu- 
 tion of learning rather than at distinctive schools, each giving 
 instruction particularly adapted for a single profession and 
 nothing else. In the latter case it must be apparent that those 
 enlarged views would not be acquired that are attainable in the 
 former. If those designed for the Christian ministry were to 
 pass all the different stages of their mental training by them- 
 selves, it is evident that their general apprehensions would be 
 very limited ; shut out, as it were, from the world, they would 
 be ignorant of human nature ; of the combined mass of elements 
 constituting the various organizations of human life and human 
 society. How little could they know of anything save what 
 pertained immediately to their own vocation! And even here 
 how little would they be likely to adapt themselves to the men- 
 tal habitudes originating with those trained under other influ- 
 ences, and in reference to other spheres of action ! They would 
 acquire something like caste, which would be a conventional 
 barrier against that universality of fellowship and sympathy 
 which is the charm of society in its most improved condition. 
 Where this fellowship and sympathy exist, all of the various 
 professions and occupations cherish each other like brethren of 
 the same household ; each viewing itself, not as possessed of 
 any superiority or pre-eminence, but as a co-ordinate portion of 
 
 Idleness is the refuge of weak minds, and the holyday of fools. 
 
qualified for the arduous office of a ciitic. Materials for a good 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 45 
 
 I- 
 
 ^ 
 ■o 
 
 the whole mass, acting in a distinct sphere for the general good. 
 What is true, in this respect, with the education of candidates 
 for the Christian ministry, is in a measure true of those being 
 educated for the other learned professions, or for the several 
 avocations of manual labor and trade ; and not less with those 
 of the rural community than others. 
 
 At the present era of human society there is happily rising 
 into prominent and vigorous action the fraternal bond which 
 encircles the human family as one kindred ; the lowest duly 
 recognized by the highest ; the most illiterate by tlie most 
 learned ; those in the most menial stations, as having joint fel- 
 lowship with persons of the highest conventional rank. Our 
 political institutions favor this enlarged estimate of the relations 
 of human life. Here, we have no hereditary pre-eminerjces. 
 All are born with the same social rights ; rich and poor on one 
 broad level ; citizens of the same republic ; our only distinctions 
 being those of personal superiority, sustained by virtue and 
 intellect. Our systems of common education are based on 
 this hypothesis, and so should be our highest schools. In 
 no case should they favor caste, to the weakening the great- 
 est catholicity of feeling among all the members of our social 
 compact. 
 
 Learning and useful education are by no means identical. 
 Tliey may exist together, or seemingly be without much affinity 
 or resemblarice. When separate, one may resemble the other 
 about as much as the crude mineral lying in its native mass 
 resembles the beautiful implements made from it, so beneficial 
 in artistic labor. The greatest human learning may be wrap- 
 ped up in enclosures impervious to, and having no affinity with 
 surrounding elements. The sun might as readily warm into 
 life and beauty the whole range of vegetable nature, when 
 shrouded with the mantle of night, as learning, in such enclo- 
 sures, be useful to the world. Human learning, to be useful, 
 must be in transparent vessels; all its tints as manifest as the 
 beautiful colors of the rainbow, obscured by no intervening 
 vapors. And even here it must be so analj'zed and arranged 
 as to occasion no confused images on the eye of the beholder; 
 all its angles and shades must be adjusted to the peculiar apti- 
 tudes, originating in the various grades of mental culture, to 
 which different individuals have been subjected. When learn- 
 ing is thus embodied and presented to the mind, it becomes 
 useful education ; and in its costume beautiful as well as use- 
 ful. If there is an object on earth more lovely and more con- 
 trolling than all others, it is science without ostentation ; meek, 
 like the well-trained child ; roseate like the blushes of a young 
 
 He that s\¥ell3 in prosperity will be sure to shrink in adversity. 
 
But the Grecians and Romans are as much changed as their governments. 
 
 46 
 
 COLLEGES FOR THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 maiden ; and, imparting its energies, like the great source of all 
 wisdom and goodness, to every object within the sphere of its 
 life-giring contact ! 
 
 As now organized, there is apparently no general sympathy 
 in rural life for our colleges. The more enlightened may ven- 
 erate them as adding to our national character ; and hence, be 
 willing to draw from the public treasury for their support. In- 
 dependent of this, not -one in a hundred feels any particular 
 interest in them. But let them become the nurseries for train- 
 ing our sons for the labors of the field, and for the increase of 
 our agricultural wealth, and we shall feel completely identified 
 with them. We shall cherish them as we would our most val- 
 uable possessions. We shall contribute to them with full con- 
 fidence of being reimbursed in an increased amount. We shall 
 mark their pi-ogress from year to year, as we do the growth of 
 our most esteemed objects ; and their commencement days will 
 be annually hailed with joy, as the birth-seasons of our educa- 
 ted sons and literary almoners. 
 
 He who says what he likes, must hear what he does not like. 
 
 

 or nearness prevents vision, too great prolixity or brevity weakens 
 
 
 .2 
 
 RURAL FELICITY. 
 
 g 
 
 e 
 
 i 
 
 '1 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
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 HAPPY he ! happiest of mortal men 1 
 
 B 
 
 s 
 
 Who, far remov'd from slavery as from pride. 
 
 § 
 
 a 
 
 Fears no man's power, nor cringing waits to catch 
 
 cr 
 
 1 
 
 The gracious nothing of a great man's nod ; 
 
 
 Where the lac'd beggar bustles for a bribe, 
 
 ■S 
 
 The purchase of his honor ; where deceit. 
 
 i 
 
 2 
 
 And fraud, and circumvention, drest in smiles, 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 
 Hold shameful commerce ; and, beneath the mask 
 
 'S. 
 
 Of friendship and sincerity, betray. 
 
 ■i 
 
 1 
 
 Him, nor the stately mansion's gilded pride, 
 
 o 
 
 Rich with whate'er the imitative arts. 
 
 
 -S 
 
 Painting or sculpture, yield to Charm the eye ; 
 
 f 
 
 P 
 
 Nor 'shining heaps of massy plate enwrougJit 
 
 B 
 
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 With curious, costly workmanship, allure. 
 
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 1 
 
 Tempted nor with the pride nor pomp of power. 
 
 "S 
 
 Nor pageants of ambition, nor the mines 
 
 § 
 
 s 
 
 Of grasping avarice, nor the poisoned sweets 
 
 o 
 
 .a 
 
 Of pampered luxury, he plants his foot 
 
 a. 
 
 i 
 
 With firmness on his old paternal fields, 
 
 
 •1 
 a 
 
 . And stands unshaken. 
 
 There sweet jjrospects rise 
 
 E3 
 
 1 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 Of meadows smiling m their fiowery pride. 
 
 
 H 
 
 Green hills and dales, and cottages embowered, 
 
 
 
 The scenes of innocence, and calm delight. 
 
 ^ 
 
 45 
 
 Where the wild melody of warbling birds. 
 
 
 gj 
 
 And cool refreshing groves, and murm'ring springs, 
 
 "w 
 
 Invite to sacred thought, and lift the mind 
 
 P 
 
 
 From low pursuits, to meditate on God. 
 
 3 
 
 is 
 
 Turn, then, at length, turn, ye sons of wealth. 
 
 
 '§- 
 
 And ye who seek through life's bewildering maze 
 
 
 cs 
 
 To tread the path of happiness, turn ! 
 
 
 
 And trace her footsteps in the rural walk ; 
 
 <s 
 
 In those faif scenes of wonder and delight, 
 
 3 
 
 CD 
 
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 Where, to the human eye. Omnipotence 
 
 tr 
 
 1 
 
 Unfolds the map of nature, and displays 
 The matchless beauty of created things. 
 
 i. 
 
 
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 Turn to the arts, the useful, pleasing arts 
 
 <-* 
 CD 
 
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 Of cultivation ; and those fields improve 
 Your erring fathers have too long despised ; 
 
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 CQ 
 
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 s 
 
 Turn to that science, which in ancient tim6s 
 
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 Tlie inind of sages and of kings employed, 
 
 t 
 
 
 Solicitous to learn the ways of God, 
 
 P^ 
 
 
 And read his works in AGKicnLTuaE's school. 
 
 
 He who spends all he gets, is on the high road to beggary. 
 
their children. In nine cases out of ten — perhaps in ninety-nine 
 
 •a 
 
 I 
 
 
 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. g- 
 
 Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
 Of Paradise, that has suryived the fall I 
 Though few now taste thee unimpaired and pure. 
 Or, tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm, 
 Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets 
 Unmixed with drops of bitter, which neglect 
 Of temper sheds into the crystal cup; 
 Thou art the nurse of virtue ; in thine arms 
 She smiles, appearing as in truth she is. 
 Heaven-bom, and destined to the skies again. 
 
 The habitation of a bachelor farmer would ordinarily be a 
 dreary place, and the current of his life would flow with the 
 monotony of a prairie river. At the close of day he returns 
 from his toils, weary and alnfost exhausted, but no one meets 
 him with the smiles and the caresses of friendship and of love. 
 He sits down to his repast without a playful word to beguile 
 him, of sunburnt reminiscences, and the labors under which he 
 has been oppressed. He eats till appetite is satisfied, and then 
 drawing back from the table, throws himself upon the sofa, or 
 it may be upon the hard floor, feeling as if he were the last on 
 earth of Adam's race. Or, if it were autumn, is there aught 
 about him to make his evening fires cheerful ? Does any female 
 voice or female step hush the gnawing of the timid mouse or 
 the notes of the unwearied cricket ? Save the one and the other, 
 no sound is heard but that of the tell-tale clock, at last remind- 
 ing him that the hour for repose has arrived. Without consult- 
 ation with any one, he submits to the summons, sullenly indeed, 
 as the culprit yields his neck to the halter. All about him is 
 quiet; but the darkness of midnight to him is no more dark and 
 gloomy than the reveries of his own imagination. The stars 
 alone look down upon him and watch his slumbers ; and from 
 these slumbers there is naught to arouse him but the eaily 
 crowing of the barn-yard fowl. To the bewitching prattle of 
 children, at daybreak, he is a stranger; and there is at his side 
 no countenance, redolent with health and youthful freshness, to 
 reflect upon the surrounding walls the first gleamings of moi-n- 
 
 
 Captious people create trouble for themselves by troubling olhers. 
 
 -J 
 
of quietness, assurance, and peace. Within the family 
 
 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. ,49 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 t 
 I- 
 
 .a 
 
 ing light. As to him are the evening and the morning, so is the 
 full day. Thus he lives day aftef day and year after year, with 
 no one to rejoice in his prosperity or repine in his adversity ; or 
 even to catch with tender emotion the impulses of a soul, find- 
 ing, in its own sad experience, the assurance it is not good for 
 a man to be alone ! 
 
 All this is so generally understood, and so well guarded 
 against, that an agricultural Ccelebs is about as rare as a her- 
 mit — or a son of Israel in precincts subject to the severest legal 
 penalties. Even before he purchases his ploughs, his wagons, 
 and his harrows, he is wont to go in search of one to become to 
 him a help-meet for life. Now this is a matter so important, I 
 cannot refrain from offering some suggestions on the subject. 
 True, it is repulsive. I 'have an instinctive aversion to giving 
 advice where there is a probability it will not be heed«d. And 
 it is scarcely to be expected that young persons especially, 
 whether male or female, will follow any one's advice relating to 
 matrimony. They will scarcely stop to consult their own good 
 common sense ; submitting to the blind impulses of the moment 
 to rule them in directing the passion of love. A farmer, in pur- 
 chasing a span of horses, a yoke of oxen, a stock of cows, would 
 critically examine all their distinctive attributes ; it may be, pass- 
 ing from town to town, that a good selection may be made. Yet, 
 does he not sometimes, in selecting a wife, exercise even less 
 caution and less wisdom than in the above matter, where only a 
 few hundreds of dollars are at issue ? It is an undeniable fact, 
 that such is the apparent unfitness for each other, in persons 
 frequently brought together, it requires no small share of meta- 
 physics, or even of faith, to believe that matches are made in 
 Jheaven, Nevertheless, with all these repulsive attendants, I still 
 purpose to give the young farmer some counsel on the matter of 
 matrimony. 
 
 In the choice of a wife, endeavor to fix your attention on an 
 individual of comely personal appearance. There is no inten- 
 tion of representing this as the ipost important qualification, from 
 placing it first in the list. It is placed first, because it is readily 
 disposed of, and is frequently what first makes an • impression 
 on the mind of the adventurer. I do not mean one who is gen- 
 erally called a decided beauty — that would be an extreme op- 
 posite to the one against which the reader is cautioned. If she 
 is really very beautiful, or thinks herself so, she will probably 
 be vain, neglect the improvement of her mind, and be more fond 
 of fantastic ornament than she is of the comely order of her 
 household establishment. On the other hand, if she is ex- 
 tremely ugly in her physical proportions ; has deformed limbs. 
 
 Comply with no vicious desire, however secret its performance. 
 
of nnkindness ; a delicate flower, ■which indifference will chill, and 
 
 50. THE WIVES OF FARMERS. 
 
 .9 
 
 round shoulders, a large and ill-favored mouth, and a generally- 
 repulsive countenance, so as to excite unpleasant sensations in a 
 stranger, the probability is you will be ashamed of her as she 
 grows old. We are constituted with inherent principles of 
 taste — that is, an aptitude to gaze with pleasure on a beautiful 
 object, and with pain on the exhibition of deformity iind ugli- 
 ness. If we disregard these principles, we do violence to our 
 nature. And there is no reason in the world yfhy a farmer 
 should not have a handsome wife as well as other men. I do 
 not mean one whose sexual developments are pressed out of 
 their natural position ; whose complexion is as colorless as a 
 winding-sheet ; and whose fingers are as fleshless as the claws 
 of a bird : this I do not call beauty ; but one w)jo has bright 
 eyes, regular features, well-formed limbs, and whose general 
 appearance denotes her familiarity with the influences of rural 
 nature and the duties of domestic hfe. This is the most genu- 
 ine beauty in woman, having an impressive moral suasion about 
 it, to which artificial beauty is a stranger. 
 
 The mind, however, is far more important than mere person- 
 al appearance. On no account marry a person without good 
 natural talents and education. If you marry a simpleton, do 
 not be surprised if your children are weak-minded. It may 
 not always be so, but oidinarily the intellect of the offspring 
 is indehbly impressed with the mother's own mental vigor or 
 weakness. This is a settled principle of physiological science, 
 and it might be corroborated by illustrations without number. 
 Reference might be made to a long catalogue of divines and 
 statesmen, who assure us that to their mothers .they are in- 
 debted for those attributes of character which gave them prom- 
 inence in the world. The idea that in rural life education in a 
 woman is unimportant, is a vile and ruinous heresy. It is of 
 more importance in the wife than in the husband. If the 
 mother have a good education, the children will be more in- 
 debted to her than to the schoolmaster for useful learning. 
 They are with her, and under her perpetually impressive influ- 
 ence, from the first lispings of infanc}', and at all hours of the 
 day, and all days of the week. Whoever imagines that the 
 letters of the alphabet make the first lesson of education — that 
 the spelling-book and the arithmetic, or the geography, contain 
 the most important elements of useful knowledge, is an ignorant 
 dunce. The glance of the mother's expressive and piercing 
 eye, and the solemn nod of the father's head, may be among 
 the best moral lectures upon the young mind. The names and 
 the uses of the difi'erent articles of household furniture ; the 
 mother's every-day exegesis of the common articles of food and 
 
 Consult not with a fool, for he ean neither give nor keep counael. 
 
as if her cheek were Jai J on muie ; her kijiB, lier Ty^rm 
 
 
 THE WJVES OF FARMERS. 61 
 
 dress — ^from whence they come, and how they are prepared, is 
 a far better preparation of her offspring for subsequent mental 
 culture than is found in the primary school. On this aftcount, it 
 has been found by the most observing teachers, that the chil- 
 dren of well-educated mothers, at any given age, are far ad- 
 vanced beyond those whose mothers are illiterate and ignorant. 
 In selecting a wife, the young farmer is cautioned, on no 
 account, to be inattentive to her disposition. If she is patient, 
 and humble, and mild, and forbeaiing, her example will cast on 
 all ai-ound the most fragrant odor. There will be no discord, 
 no strife, to mar the beauty of the family fireside, or to quench 
 the rising incense on the family altar. ' If the benign rays of 
 prosperity only fall on the combined interests of 'tfaose compos- 
 ing her little empire, she exhibits no unseemly exultation ; no 
 pride, no disgusting dogmatism. Kindness and affability are 
 the banners floating in bewitching beauty over the heads of all 
 who approach her. Or if, in the mutations of worldly bliss, 
 adversity is permitted to send over her dwelling the cold winds 
 of poverty, still, there is no murmuring, no repining, no discon- 
 tent. Under the influence of her resignation, even her husband 
 is almost led to feel that no loss has been experienced — espe- 
 cially of the requisites for real happiness. Or if crosses and 
 perplexities, and the poisoned errois of envy, are thrown in her 
 path, she still continues the same patient and submissive crea- 
 ture ; rendering, in return, no angry or sarcastic retorts, no 
 overwhelming rejoinders. With such a presiding spirit over 
 the destinies of a household, how can its members fail' to emu- 
 late her example ! But if you unfortunately become allied to 
 a woman of pride, of self-conceit, of violent impetuosity, of 
 ungoverned passion, you must expect a life of bitterness, and 
 unavailing regret, and mortification, A passionate and quarrel- 
 some wife is sure to destroy the peace and quiet of her husband ; 
 to ruin the dispositions of her own children ; to scatter the ele- 
 ments of confusion and disorder throughout the entire house- 
 hold ; and, not unfrequently, to diffuse the scandal, if not the 
 influence, of her example to those beyond the precincts of her 
 own polluted sanctuary. 
 
 In another respect it may be wise to exercise a degree of cau- 
 tion when selecting a wife. It is truly a hard fate for a woman 
 of intrinsic merit to be neglected on account of relatives less 
 worthy than herself. If, however, a man and the whole of liis 
 own family are to be brought in contact with pernicious influ- 
 ences, whether tending to extravagance and wastefulness in the 
 use of property ; heretical and false notions in politics, religion, 
 or domestic economy ; disreputable associations, when children 
 
 By entertaining good thoughts, you will keep bad ones out. 
 
Her commands are caresses, her menaces are tears. 
 
 -a 
 
 62 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. 
 
 and young persons are to be the sufferers ; and, above all, if 
 the end is to be vice and immorality, on no condition can a pru- 
 dent and wise man consent to such an alliance. Near akin to 
 this, caution is to be exercised in another matter. The happi- 
 ness and good order of a family depend materially on its unity 
 of sentiment and action. If there be discord, the family loses, 
 in proportion to the extent of the want of unity, its endearing 
 and hallowed associations and attractions. A man is, by the 
 civil law and the institution of Christianity, the head of the 
 family, with a corresponding prerogative in all its ramifications. 
 As a matter of course, the wife is to co-operate with him 'in the 
 development and application of this prerogative ; and, in no 
 exigency, unless there exist on his part an undoubted want of 
 capacity, can she attempt with pi-opriety an opposing authority 
 and influence. If she does, the most ruinous consequences are 
 to be anticipated, so far as the beauty and loveliness of family 
 order is depending. Ordinarily, a woman may be expected to 
 have good sense enough, and to be sufficiently apprised of those 
 well-authenticated maxims, to prevent apprehensions of such 
 outbreaks of disorder. Nevertheless, if the wife have brought 
 with her a brace of venerable maiden sisters, or an impertinent 
 and self-conceited mother, or an antiquated grandmother — or if 
 she is even situated so near them as to fall under their mis- 
 chievous influence, woe be to the husband and all that belongs 
 to him ! Therefore, in making a matrimonial alliance, such 
 hazards should not be permitted to have existence. 
 
 The ordinarily appropriate duties of women are so well 
 understood — they are so liable to modification under varying 
 circumstances, that it is exceedingly difficult to devise rules for 
 them that will be of any material use. In rural life, the course 
 of domestic arrangements is more uniform than in the other states 
 of society. Here it is especially the duty, and should be the 
 unceasing pleasure of the wife to alleviate the fatigues and the 
 burden of her husband as much as possible, especially when 
 engrossed with the more onerous labors of the year. In cer- 
 tain seasons, these labors are apparently sufficient to paralyze 
 the energies, both social and physical, of any common man. 
 And, if there is any class of men that requires regularly good 
 living — victuals palatable, nourishing, and well cooked — it is 
 farmers. They need it, and they deserve it ; and, if the woman 
 to whom the responsibility of this preparation belongs, for any 
 trivial cause, is negligent, she does not deserve the station she 
 holds. The details and the specifications are here too numer- 
 ous, and individually too trifling to be enumerated or commented 
 upon ; but, as a whole, they are paramount in importance to 
 
 & 
 
 Be cautious of believing ill, but more cautious of reporting it. 
 
ehildren obedience, humility, cleanliness, and propriety of 
 
 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. 53 
 
 tffl 
 
 a 
 
 3 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 most other departments of good household order, and in no 
 small degree are fundamental to its happy and prosperous con- 
 dition. 
 
 Nor is it of less importance that proper attention be paid 
 to the personal comeliness of her husband and children. 
 If their clothes are dirty or ragged, the presumption is, that 
 she is ignorant of her own responsibilities ; or, what is worse, 
 has not sufficient regard to the respectable appearance of the 
 family. Since the woman is essentially relieved from habitual 
 exposure to the weather, and the labore and hazards requiring 
 the greatest degree of physical strength, it is certainly the least 
 that can be expected that she omit no opportunity for the exhi- 
 bition of watchful assiduity in meeting those claims upon her, 
 involving toils less onerous and more befitting her sex, and the 
 usages of well-regulated society. Next to this, if she have 
 children, no opportunity should be lost in improving their minds. 
 Whenever there is a moment which can be used for a little exe- 
 gesis relating to common things and common-occurring events, it 
 should be promptly improved. Minutes, in the aggregate, 
 equal to hours daily, may thus be turned to the best account ; 
 especially at the table for meals, and in the evenings, which, in the 
 period of a dozen or twenty years, will be worth to them double 
 of all the education obtained at school. 
 
 While the time and the energies of the farmer's wife are thus 
 needed, and are thus valuable in those more appropriate duties, 
 she ought not, ordinarily, to expend either on labor better per- 
 formed by men, or those in a subordinate station. If needful, 
 she can exercise a supervision over the dairy and its incidental 
 agencies, the poultry-house, and piggery ; saving, with utmost 
 vigilance, whatever may be of use for food in those apartments, 
 that can be gleaned from the waste of the kitchen ; but every 
 decent and wise man will consider her time worth more in the 
 house than out of it, in the performance of her own duties, than 
 in services properly belonging to others. The active labors in 
 and about tiie cow-house, and the enclosures of the swine, do 
 not belong to her ; and the man who is willing to see her do 
 them, cannot duly estimate her proper position, or the value of 
 her services in the sphere named. 
 
 Public opinion, or perhaps, more properly, public usage, has 
 much changed in regard to the occupation of women. We 
 need not go far back to see the most elevated classes usefully 
 engaged in labors now deemed incompatible with the position 
 of ladies. How recently were even princes disposed to make 
 companions of the distaff and the loom ! Who, then, imagined 
 it beneath their dignity to manufacture with their own hands 
 
 Begin nothing until you have considered bow it is to be finished. 
 
was tlien four yeara old. " Madam," was the reply, " you 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 54 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. 
 
 the articles of apparel worn by tliemselves or the members of 
 their own households ? And even in the times of our imme- 
 diate ancestors — within half a century — it was esteemed as 
 much a matter of propriety and decent reputation for women 
 to be occupied in useful labor, as for men. If it were at band, 
 I would insert a few paragraphs, giving account of the usages 
 appertaining to these matters in the time of Queen Elizabeth ; 
 but in the want of them, this chapter will be closed by a few 
 didactics from the counsels of a pious mother to her royal son 
 in ancient times — possibly some of them may have been seen 
 by a portion of my readers — if so, I shall be pardoned for the 
 insertion of them, as they may be interesting and instructive to 
 others who may not have seen them. 
 
 Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far above 
 rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so 
 that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good, 
 and not evil, all the days of her life. She seeketh wool, and 
 flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the 
 merchants' ships ; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth 
 also while it is dark, and giveth meat to her household, and a 
 portion to her maidens. She considereth a field and buyeth it ; 
 with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She gird- 
 eth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms. She 
 perceiveth that her merchandise is good ; her candle goeth not 
 out by night. She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her 
 hands hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the 
 poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She is 
 not afraid of the snow for her household ; for all her household 
 are clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself coverings of 
 tapestry ; he* clothing is silk and purple. Her husband is 
 known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the 
 land. She maketh fine linen and selleth it ; and delivereth gir- 
 dles unto the merchant. Strength and honor are her clothing ; 
 and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth 
 with wisdom ; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She 
 looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the 
 bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed ; 
 her husband, also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have 
 done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. Favor is deceit- 
 ful, and beauty is vain ; but the woman that feareth the Lord, 
 she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands ; and 
 let her own works praise her in the gates. 
 
 The language here used is indeed quaint ; but it is in no way 
 unintelligible. It pictures the character of a good wife with 
 impressive perspicuity. In some of its features, it is rather 
 
 fie slo* in choosing a friend, but slower in changing him. 
 
 S 
 
 a' 
 
and thrift. Hake them colisidei; every vice as shameful and 
 
 THE WIVES OF FARMERS. 65 
 
 I 
 
 .9 
 B 
 
 i 
 ■3 
 
 O 
 ■♦* 
 
 S 
 2 
 
 adapted to those primitive times thaa to the present day. 
 There is, nevertheless, a general tone in it that is capable of im- 
 parting the most useful lessons to women in this age, and in the 
 most elevated stations of life. It teaches us that they have ap- 
 propriate duties to perform as well as men ; that even in the 
 mansions of the rich, and the courts of princes, there is no ex- 
 emption from these duties ; that these useful labors are not 
 incompatible with high rank, or with due regard to the refine- 
 ments and elegances of fashionable society. Happy, indeed, 
 would it be for the present generation, if the rational didactics 
 in domestic economy, prevalent in ancient periods, were now 
 made a part of female education in every fanaily ; in the houses 
 of the rich as well as of the poor ; in the drawing-rooms of 
 merchants, as well as in the farm-house of the country. This 
 would be a guaranty for a more general tlirift and prosperity 
 than is now visible ; and would be a barrier against those sud- 
 den avalanches of bankruptcy that carry away in promiscuous 
 ruia many of the fairest portions of visible wealth. 
 
 A Boul she sliottld have for great actions fit ; 
 Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit : 
 Courage to look bold danger in the face ; 
 No fear, but to be proud, or base : 
 Quick to advise, by an emergence prest. 
 To give good counsel, or to take the best. 
 Her conduct regular, her mirth refined ; 
 Civil to strangers, to her neighbors kind ; 
 Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride ; 
 In all the methods of deceit untry'd: 
 So faithful to her friend, and good to all, 
 No censure might upon her actions falL 
 
 By reading we etirich the ftiind, by conversation -we pnliah it. 
 
presence as he does in our absence ; and few friendships would 
 
 I 
 
 bo 
 bo 
 .9 
 
 o 
 
 T 
 
 g 
 
 p. 
 <a 
 
 .a 
 <s 
 
 w 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FAKMEES. 
 
 Ask the^jpain 
 Who journeys homeward from a summer-day's 
 Long labor, why, forgetful of his toils 
 And due repose, he loiters to behold 
 The sunshine gleaming, as through amber clouds. 
 O'er all the western sky ? Full well, I ween, 
 His rude expression and untutored airs, 
 Beyond the power of language, will unfold 
 The form of beauty smiling in his heart 
 
 MoHB than half — probably more than two-thirds of our whole 
 population — some say seven-eighths — and of course of our male 
 youth, are attached to agrieulture. Numerically, they are pro- 
 portionahly of more importanee than those attached to all other 
 interests in the country. Their physical power, it is well known, 
 and is admitted on all hands, bears a greater ratio than their 
 numerical force. And, if they have not received their due 
 share of mental culture, and are, in too many cases, like the 
 unpolished marble or diamond, they have an innate mental en- 
 ergy, which, on being properly developed, will give them a 
 preponderance in this respect, equal to that in the other two. 
 I am justified, therefore, in devoting one chapter, at least, of 
 this volume to the special benefit of the sons of farmers. 
 
 It has been intimated in a previous chapter that the agricul^ 
 tural community has generally felt a species of personal degrada- 
 tion. Probably this feeling has been more prevalent and deep 
 with the sons of farmers — boys and young men, than -with 
 others. They have obtained some imperfect conceptions of the 
 value of wealth ; of the supposed exemption from labor in the 
 pursuits of literature ; and of the special advantages arisino' 
 from the mercantile profession. Hence, they naturally and im- 
 pulsively feel desirous of some course of life where the road is 
 less rugged, and where the rewards of labor are more consonant 
 with their feelings than in tilling the ground. With the wonted 
 ardor of youth they picture to themselves scenes of perpetually 
 verdant pleasure in the possession of great riches — of literary 
 
 Passion is a fever that leaves us weaker than it finds ua. 
 
utterly insufEoient are all the riches of the world without her 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 57 
 
 ^ 
 
 to 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 .a 
 
 "a 
 s 
 
 fame — of release from toil and anxiety-^and, above all, in the 
 homage supposed to be paid to all in the elevated stations of 
 society. This is all natural, but it is, after all, rather a delusion 
 than a reality. All these scenes are presented to their young 
 and ardent imaginations through glasses of the highest magni- 
 fying power, Their ecstatic visions have been solely engrossed 
 with the bright, and not at all with the dark spots in the pic- 
 ture. They simply glanced at the gilded trappings of wealth, 
 without stopping to consider the multitudes constantly sinking 
 in the agonies of despair, before half reaching the object of their 
 aspirations. They simply heard the shouts and the huzzas float- 
 ing over their heads, to the conquerors of fleets and armies, 
 without inquiring how many thousands and tens of thousands 
 perished in the conflicts, their names now forgotten, and as lit- 
 tle regarded as the dust under our feet. 
 
 Now, my young friends, when brooding with seeming dis- 
 content over the monotonous destinies of rural life, and aspiring 
 after something more stirring — more dazzling — more satisfying, 
 let me entreat you to look upon the hitherto neglected portions 
 of the picture you have drawn. Among the aspirants for politi- 
 cal elevation, only a few reach the summit which they desired ; 
 and, when reached, it was so encumbered with the jealousy and 
 the envy of disappointed rivals, it was barely worth having, and 
 certainly not worth the cost paid for it. Among the votaries 
 of literary distinction, only a few become known, and are recog- 
 nized in the republic of letters ; and of these, not one, perhaps, 
 in a thousand will be remembered by posterity. And also, 
 among the adventurers for fortune, where one obtains a perma- 
 nent competency, a hundred, it has been calculated, sink in 
 poverty ; it may be with broken spirits and ruined in health ; 
 and, it may be asserted with confidence, not one in ten thousand 
 becomes really rich. Besides, a literary life is by no means a 
 life of indolence — there is in it an increasing application to 
 study — a wasting of spirit and physical energy far greater than 
 in the labor on a farm ; and, in the search after wealth, there 
 is usually an anxiety, and care, and vexation, and disappoint- 
 ment, far more incompatible with real happiness than the 
 fatigues and privations incident to agriculture. 
 
 The scenes, ordinarily impressed on the imaginations of ardent 
 youth, will be found much like the bubbles that float so grace- 
 fully in the atmosphere, reflecting with prismatic accuracy the 
 sun's rays, but buist and vanish the moment they are touched. 
 There is certainly no intention of making you disgusted with the 
 world ; but to caution you against its false appearances. Look 
 at the world as it is ; examine it in its true aspect ; imagine not 
 
 Modesty ia not only an ornament, but a guard to virtue. 
 
the urethra, even Rome would hare trembled before him ; but when 
 
 58 ADVICE TO THE SONS OP FARMERS. 
 
 that to be gold which is merely gilded brass ; imagine not that 
 to be rest and dignified leisure, when corroding care and solici- 
 tude, like a canker, are eating up the soul ; nor imagine that a 
 bed of roses is spread within reach for your repose, when a few 
 hours of experience would tell you that it consisted of thorns. 
 
 It is not denied but what there are situations in society more 
 desirable than that of a day-laborer on a farm. But, it is af- 
 firmed, that the difference between them is by no means as great 
 as generally supposed. And, then, the chances for obtaining 
 them are so small, the experiment to be made is not unlike that 
 of obtaining a fortune in a lottery ; casting in our money, 
 though there be ten thousand blanks to one prize. Walter 
 Scott, in writing to a son, says, " I cannot too much impress 
 upon your mind that labor is the condition which God has im- 
 posed on us in every station of life. There is nothing worth 
 having th^t can be had without it, from the bread which the 
 peasant wins with the sweat of his brow, to the sports by which 
 the rich man gets rid of his ennui. The only difference betwixt 
 them is, that the poor man labors to get his dinner — the rich 
 man to get an appetite for his." As for knowledge, it can no 
 more be planted in the human mind without labor, than the 
 field of wheat can be produced without the previous use of the 
 plough. There is this diflFerence, that chance or circumstances 
 may so cause it, that another shall reap what the farmer sows ! 
 but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, 
 of the fruits of his own studies ; and the liberal and extended 
 acquisitions of knowledge which he makeS) are all for his 
 own use. 
 
 The presumption, indeed, is, that not a few of the sons of 
 farmers will occupy stations in other departments of enterprise 
 and labor. It is well known, that in no inconsiderable degi'ee 
 they are now filled with thetn. The physical energy, and the 
 nd less latent intellect, produced under rural influences, enable 
 their possessors advantageously to compete with persons with 
 mental culture, in all the great enterprises of the ago. For it 
 must be apparent to everybody that in what are considered the 
 higher grades of social life, there is frequently, and indeed 
 usually, a tendency to inactivity, to effeminacy, and even !o inef- 
 ficiency, which will ordinarily prevent the sons from becoming 
 equal to their fathers. Hence, when the fathers die, whether 
 in the high places of the church, or legislative halls — in the 
 marts of exchange, or the courts of law — most of the vacancies 
 will be filled only by persons possessing the energy and the in- 
 domitable perseverance engendered by the influences of agricul- 
 tural life. But while some of your number will be called 
 
 Mend your manners, and that will mend your fortune. 
 
color and flavor of rum and otlier liqnors ; it also restores 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 59 
 
 away from the scenes of your cliiWliood — from the houses and 
 farms of your fathers — it may be one from the granite hills of 
 New Hampshire — one from the verdant elevations of Vermont 
 one from the wheat-fields of the Empire State — one from the 
 iron caverns of Jersey — and another from the rich intervales of 
 old Berkshire, so renowned for men of genius — the most of you 
 will remain to perpetuate, where you were born, your ances- 
 tral names. Your lot, in my judgment, is the more enviable 4 
 and by your own efforts it may be made equally reputable, and 
 surely not less useful. 
 
 It is in your power to exert on the community an influence 
 that will materially change the great features of society in the 
 American Union. Educate yourselves thoroughly in the mys- 
 teries of agriculture, and then, incidentally, as you have leisure 
 and opportunity, in the various departments of learning. The 
 first will enable you to make the cultivation of the ground far 
 more productive than it has hitherto been ; and consequently, 
 in the estimation of the woild, far more honorable. Let there 
 be among the sons of farmers, in cultivating the land, the same 
 enlightened enterprise and perseverance that is necessary to 
 raise one to eminence in the learned professions — or to wealth 
 in merchandise — or to distinction in literature ; and incredible 
 would be the change. Rough places would be made smooth. 
 Barren ones would become fertile. The wilderness would be- 
 come fruitful. And, in anticipation of prophetic times, the 
 desert will rejoice and blossom as the rose. The profits, more- 
 over, of agriculture, would be so increased, that there would 
 be, throughout the country, an appearance of thrift and inde- 
 pendence. There would be no prostrate fences, no weeds and 
 thistles by the roadside ; no shattered barns and outhouses ; 
 no broken ploughs, and wagons, and harrows, and sleds, to attract 
 the notice of passing strangers ; and, in fine, no want of paint, 
 or court-yard fences, or whole glass about the family mansion. 
 
 Most young men, living on a farm, if they would be as fru- 
 gal of their time, as students must be, and mechanics usually 
 are, till eleven or twelve o'clock at night with their books, and 
 the latter at their trades, would, by the middle of life, acquire as 
 good an education as can be obtained at college. Not, indeed, the 
 same in kind, but for the business relations of life better in qual- 
 ity. Not, indeed, unless they choose it, Latin, and Greek, and 
 Hebrew ; but the sciences and arts having relation to agriculr 
 tare. The best kind of political economy, also— as much better 
 than the crudities of theoretic and scheming politicians, falsely 
 called political economy, as the navigation acquired in carry- 
 ing a ship across the ocean is superior to the lessons taken on 
 
 Moderate your ajjpetite, So that with little yon may be feontent. 
 
heavier than distilled water. Its ductility is such, that sixteen 
 
 60 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 shore. To this would be add«<l, as a matter of course, a fa- 
 miliar acquaintance with general and particular history. Here 
 would be seen, on theone hand, the progress of the useful arts, the 
 irradiations of science, and the developments of national wealth 
 and prosperity ; and, on the other hand, the intrigues and the cor- 
 ruption of unprincipled rulers, and the misery entailed on the peo- 
 ple by their profligacy. To a knowledge of history would succeed 
 the knowledge of biography, to the reading of which no one of the 
 least good taste and mental culture should be disinclined. This 
 would be, to young men, like a mirror, reflecting the virtue 
 and the vice — the patriotism and the knavery — the social love- 
 liness and the social profligacy of all past times. This would be 
 to them better than all the schoolmasters of Christendom. 
 
 This kind of education is within the reach of most young 
 men having as much leisure as farmers have in certain seasons 
 of the year. Twenty common-sized pages may be read in an 
 hour ; and not less than twenty volumes may thus be read 
 every year. At this rate, quite a library would be used up in 
 fifteen or twenty years. As lyceums and other public libra- 
 ries are so plenty, this kind of education would cost but little. 
 The hours devoted to it are what would be of no use for any- 
 thing else. Moreover, this kind of employment will keep young 
 men out of the way of loafing and unhealthy associates. In 
 the winter season, especially, unless habitually occupied in some 
 such way, almost of a certainlj' your minds will become inac- 
 tive as are your hands — will lose their aptitude for thought 
 and study ; and, it may be, that in the want of good occupa- 
 tion, you will be enticed to a demoralizing one ; the same as the 
 ground, if not cultivated and made to produce the fruits needed 
 for animal sustenance, will be overgrown with weeds. The 
 mind is as easily made active and vigorous, leading its possessor 
 to honor and competence, if not in all cases to afRnence, as 
 the earth is made verdant and productive ; but if not properly 
 attended to — if not properly nurtured, it will become a fount- 
 ain of evil, leading its possessor to poverty and ruin. 
 
 The course here recommended to young men in rural life, 
 will assuredly, too, give them a social position, equal to that 
 given by other occupations. And having such a position, such 
 is the numerical strength of agriculturists, from your numbers 
 will be selected a majority of our legislators. This would lead 
 to a political millennium ; to a reahzation of all the Utopian 
 dreams of happiness under new organizations of the social com- 
 pact. Such rulers, not wanting office for themselves, nor its 
 emoluments for their friends, would administer the government 
 for the benefit of the people. Depending on the income of 
 
 Hean fortunes atad proud spirits are like fuel and fire. 
 
dance or scarcity of the former metal. In the English coinage, the 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 61 
 
 5 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 1 
 
 t- 
 
 
 their farms for the support of their families, they -vrould con- 
 sider their time worth more than the salary paid them. The 
 great curses to the people, under our government, proceed 
 from the putting men into office who know not how to procure 
 so good a living elsewhere ; thus being induced to sacrifice the 
 welfare of the country to their own individual interests ; seeking 
 to perpetuate themselves in power, when they ought to be su- 
 perseded by others. 
 
 If improvements are to be made in agriculture, they must 
 generally be made by yourselves. Your fathers began their 
 labors before science was so generally consulted on the subject. 
 They naturally adopted the processes used by their fathers, 
 who, from the newness of the country, had little or no Occasion 
 to use manures. It is well known that new lands are ordinarily 
 so rich, that they will produce abundantly without the aid of 
 additional fertilizing agents. Thus they were cultivated, but, 
 year after year, becoming more and more exhausted of their 
 native energies, till the crops became correspondingly deficient. 
 The result was so gradual, that it excited no inquiry ; and it 
 was not, perhaps, thought possible to apply an adequate rem- 
 edy. In some instances the lands were entirely abandoned, and 
 others, either new, or less worn, were cultivated in their stead. 
 In- other instances, the owners still clung to them, becoming 
 miserably poor, and without energy to remove. In the course 
 of time, science, like a messenger from heaven, sent forth her 
 counsels. The habits of the greater part of farmers were too 
 much confirmed, and their minds were too little prepared for 
 these illuminations, to admit of their adopting experiments, 
 which the others were induced to try. The consequence is, 
 that a very large portion of your fathers will never be inclined 
 to hazard their labor and their money in experiments unknown 
 to the usages of a past generation. Hence, as remarked, if the 
 counsels of science are to be applied generally on worn-out lands, 
 to the refertilizing of them, it must be done by yourselves. 
 They may permit you to do, especially in a limited way, what 
 they would not do themselves. And when they become incon- 
 trovertible, you will doubtless be permitted to make an entire 
 change. 
 
 It is a point of wisdom, that persons possessing scanty means 
 only, either adopt experiments that have been proved by others, 
 to the making of them on their own account ; or, if not favored 
 by the example of those around, more wealthy or more ven- 
 turesome than themselves, to make them on a limited scale 
 only. The adaptation to agriculture, of new processes, takes 
 much time as well as money, and if found, in the end, not to 
 
 No one pretends to hate an injnry more than he who oifers it. 
 
of the violent power of the sunbeamB, collected in the focus of a 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 p. 
 
 a 
 
 meet expectation, the moral influence is unfavorable. Preju- 
 dices will be likely to arise against all attempts for improve- 
 ment. The labor of reforming is retarded, so that virhat might 
 have been anticipated in the present generation, must be defer- 
 red to the next. Habitual reading, too, and study, are not to 
 be expected in those who have spent half of life strangers to 
 the advantages of education. To them, science is like a con- 
 cealed treasure. To them, literature presents no more charms 
 than do the colors of the rainbow to the man born blind. 
 
 It is sometimes an occasion of mortification that young men, 
 in the country, do not appear in those costly garments more 
 common in other vocations of society. This is wholly unneces- 
 sary and unwise. If persons have no claims to consideration 
 but fine and expensive apparel, tlieir reputation is of but small 
 value. A tailor will furnish a fool or a knave with this exte- 
 rior — with this description of character, for much less than one 
 hundred dollars ; but the wearer of it will be no more entitled 
 ■to respectful notice with sensible people than he was before. 
 Character is a more expensive article ; it is not purchased with 
 money ; it cannot be put on and cast off witli the facility of 
 changing a suit of clothes ; it is the produce of years on the 
 part of him that possesses it ; based on moral and intellectual 
 endowments ; within the reach of all classes of men of suffi- 
 cient merit, but beyond the reach of the indolent, the worth- 
 less and the vile, notwithstanding adventitious and external ap- 
 pearances. The lowest menial in the marts of trade may have 
 more Valuable character than his principal ; the plainest farmer 
 or mechanic may possess more claims for a sincere respect with 
 good men, than the strutting, unprincipled demagogue, that is 
 at the summit of political ascendency ; and, even the hired day- 
 laborer on a farm, by honesty, fidelity, sobriety, and intelli- 
 gence, may reach enduring fame, that will never belong to the 
 indolent and licentious heirs of wealth. 
 
 In the article of clothing, there is much room for the exer- 
 cise of expediency. It is expedient that laboring persons, 
 especially, do not apply themselves to their regular vocation in 
 the apparel appropriated to holydays and appearance at church. 
 They could not afford to do it. A good suit of fine clothes 
 would be ruined in a very few days subjected to the action of 
 coarse manual labor. On this principle, the master mariner has 
 one suit of clothes to be worn on ship-board, and another when 
 on land. But the farmer is as much respected when seen about 
 his work in coarse attire, as he is at church, in a suit of fine 
 broadcloth. So is the master mariner as readily obefyed, and 
 as much honored at sea dressed in duck trowsers and tarpaulin. 
 
 Never do that by force which may be done by fair means. 
 
ever ttio-wn, belongiDg to the King of Portugal, weighs 1680 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 63 
 
 PQ 
 
 O 
 
 as when on shore with a fine beaver and satin vest. A person 
 never need feel degraded by his personal appearance, provided 
 it is suited to the labor in which he is engaged. On the other 
 handy if he were to labor in clothes too expensive for the ex- 
 posure, it would indicate a recklessness prejudicial to his good 
 sense, and would authorize a presumption that he has a foolish 
 pride that will always keep him poor. 
 
 Young men on a farm sometimes apparently feel mortified, 
 frorn a consciousness of awkward manners. It is true, that 
 ease and polish of manners are ordinarily acquired by familiar 
 and frequent intercourse in good society, not always feasible 
 when engaged in rural occupations. There is, nevertheless, no 
 excuse for clownish manners in the country. If there is good 
 sense, there will be a modest and unobtrusive demeanor, rather 
 to be commended than discouraged. This is wholly unlike 
 coarseness and vulgarity. The latter is probably more common 
 in the city than in the country. It is the result of corrupt 
 moral associations and contact with society in its most degraded 
 condition. Under such circumstances, all the fountains of the 
 heart become poisoned ; their exhalations defile every object in 
 proximity with them; the very atmospliere in which they float 
 becomes contaminated. But, with these persons, there is no 
 difference of manners; no- shrinking from pubKo observation; 
 far from it ; the very opposites to this trait of character ai-e 
 everywhere manifest in such a concourse. There we are dis- 
 gusted with deformed features — the relics of filthy disease; 
 tiiere we are saluted with the discordant tones of loud laugh- 
 ter ; of the brawling of licentious revelry, and of the impreca- 
 tions of profanity. All such things are an offence in the coun- 
 try or the city ; but in the latter they are mostly found. Low 
 life in the country has not the hardened impudence to make 
 such displays of itself. 
 
 So far as there is any foundation for an undiie reserve or 
 awkwardness of manners in the country, it is the result of a 
 want of proper education. And, if young men in the country 
 do not attend school as much time as those do in the city, they 
 attend enough, in connection with what they may learn by 
 reading and study at home, to be exempt from all accusations of 
 icrnorance. Awkwardness, proceeding from voluntary or inex- 
 cusable ignorance, may indeed be a sufficient cause for morti- 
 fied feeling. If young persons in the city or the country, 
 through indolence, deficiency of taste, or a disregard for the 
 opinions of othei's, remain thus ignorant, there is no excuse for 
 them. They may justly be ashamed of themselves. Their 
 friends may be ashamed of them. But, where there is becom- 
 
 Oprnlon 13 the great pillar that upholds the commonwealth. 
 
ranean agitations, muddy boiling of warm spriDgs, drying up of 
 
 iS 
 
 N 
 
 •a 
 
 V 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 & 
 
 64 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 
 
 ing intelligence, where opportunities for mental improvement 
 have not been neglected, there will rarely be found a degree of 
 awkwardness to awaken any unpleasant feelings. Indeed, if a 
 small measure of it does appear, it will rather excite sympathy 
 than animadversion. Let, then, young men in the country have 
 their minds duly stored with knowledge ; let them acquire such 
 a free use of their native language as to be able to communi- 
 cate to others what they know when there is occasion for it ; 
 and they will be freely excused for any lack of flippancy of 
 speech or gesticulation of manner which may be witnessed in 
 persons habituated to other social influences, though, in reality, 
 possessing less common sense than is possessed by themselves. 
 
 The difference of manners in the country and city, among 
 classes of equal intelligence and position, is the result of social 
 and physical influences easily understood by all who have wit- 
 nessed them. One of each locality is best adapted to its own 
 sphere. In the city, perceptions in regard to business, and 
 everything else, are habitually quick, almost like intuition. 
 There is no leisure for long essays of studied thought or 
 speech. The occasion for each would be passed before a stud- 
 ied process could be consummated. It would be similar to the 
 discharge of a musket after game, which had already escaped 
 beyond the reach of its shot. Motion is no less rapid than 
 thought or speech. Persons may as well not speak or act at 
 all, as to do it after the exigency demanding it has passed. 
 Hence, the rapidity with which everything is done in the city. 
 The habit extends to social life as well as to business. Were it 
 otherwise, the labor of each day would always be left unfinished. 
 Much is to be done even to procure the means for a living, and 
 it must be done when the demand for it is presented, or it will 
 never be done. 
 
 In the country, there is rarely any occasion for this precipi- 
 tation. Here, the processes of thought, and speech, and labor 
 are made with studied deliberation. If an hour is not long 
 enough to complete it, take two hours. If the day is not suf- 
 ficiently long, take two days. Agricultural labor is too arduous 
 to admit of haste. If it were to receive the accelerated action 
 bestowed on city labor, the physical powers would not be equal 
 to the task. The animal system would be worn down and pros- 
 trated before the day is ended. Neither man nor beast would 
 be suflttcient for it. Let machinery be driven with all the ve- 
 locity practicable, and the whole mass would fall into ruin. 
 Let a wheel of a thousand feet in diameter revolve a hundred 
 times in a minute, and what force could bind its parts togeth- 
 er ? Its centrifugal tendency would be irresistible. Hence, in 
 
 Of all enemies of idleness, want is the most formidable. 
 
with its secrets, the more do we acknowledge the wisdom of the 
 
 ADVICE TO THE SONS OF FARMERS. 65 
 
 
 machinery, there must be balance-wheels to retard and regulate 
 motion. Not unlike to this, is the necessity for guarding against 
 ruinous results in the exertion of animal power ; if it be applied 
 where conflicting agencies are beyond its capacity of endurance, 
 its action must be retarded till its proper speed becomes a habit. 
 This is a fact in no small degree in the labor of rural life ; and 
 hence the necessity for duly regulating the agencies applied. 
 Most men, and especially young men and boys, engaged in the 
 labors of husbandry, might apply themselves with so much 
 violence as to destroy their ability to labor in a short period. 
 This systematic habit in manual exercise has a corresponding 
 influence on all the physical and mental exertions we are accus- 
 tomed to put forth. We are as much trained to a particular 
 routine of action, as a horse or an ox is trained to the harness 
 or the yoke. This training leads to -a mechanical movement, 
 having but little volition in it ; but little else than a kind of in- 
 stinct, entering into the discharge of our social responsibilities, 
 as well as the more weighty and absorbing labors of life. 
 
 It may be well to add, that young men should be unceas- 
 ino-ly circumspect, in reference to the formation of all habits : 
 form habits of industry — of economy — of neatness in personal 
 appearance — of politeness — of respect to age and rank in life 
 
 of reverence for religion and its institutions — of honesty and 
 
 honorable dealing in business^ — and of conscientious determina- 
 tion in all things to do unto others as you would that they 
 should do unto yourself. On the other hand, avoid, as you 
 would rank poison, all bad habits, or associations that will lead 
 to them. Do not form the habit of using profane, or low, or 
 vulgar language — of using intoxicating drink, or of associating 
 with those that do—and, to sum up all in a few words, form 
 no habit of which you would be ashamed, or that would render 
 you disagreeable in the society of ladies, or clergymen, or gen- 
 tlemen of the best standing in society. Form good habits, and 
 o-uard against bad ones, when you are young, and you will 
 have little to fear in your course of life ; you will always have 
 good friends ; and you may expect success in whatever you 
 undertake. 
 
 Honor thy parents, those that gave thee birth. 
 And watched in tenderness thine earliest days. 
 And trained thee up in youth, and loved in all. 
 Honor, obey, and love them ; it shall fill 
 Their souls with holy joy, and shall bring down 
 God's richest blessings on thee; and in days 
 To come, tliy children, if they are given, 
 Shall honor thee, and fill thy life with peace. 
 
 & 
 
 t 
 
 Pride hides our own faults, and magnifies the faults of others. 
 
reflection for a whole day. For this purpose, always have a 
 
 ■p 
 
 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, 
 A shining gloss, that fadeth suddenly ; 
 A flower that dies, when first it 'gins to bud ; 
 A brittle glass, that's broken presently ; 
 A doubtful good, a gloss, a flower, 
 Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour. 
 
 There are, in the country, not l^ss than three millions of per- 
 sons coming under the denomination at the head of this chap- 
 ter. If they were all brought into one mass as compact as 
 possible — to wit, in a school, or a distinct social state — what an 
 interesting and imposing spectacle would they exhibit ! For 
 special regard, they would command the attention of the whole 
 civilized world. The speculations of philosophy and Chris- 
 tianity, in every clime, would all be brought into requisition, to 
 define the influences to be cast by them over the land to which 
 they belong. If an individual on some lofty eminence, could, 
 in an address to them, with a voice of thunder, reach every ear, 
 into what profound silence would this vast multitude be hush- 
 ed ! With what eagerness would the accents of his enlight- 
 ened counsels be received ! How dieep into the recesses of 
 every bosom would sink his cautions and his admonitions I The 
 fervor of an unearthly unction escaping from his lips, in this 
 immense throng, would pass, like the electric spark, from bosom 
 to bosom, till all were animated by one throbbing impulse to 
 become worthy of the position assigned them. Then, how 
 overwhelming to them would become the consciousness of their 
 individual and their joint responsibilities ! 
 
 But away from each other, as you are — no sympathetic im- 
 pulses passing from one to another — no pomp of numbers to 
 arouse attention, how little do you ordinarily think of what the 
 world has a right to expect from you! The puny girl of ten 
 Or twelve years, at some secluded spot near the base of a high 
 precipice, distant from the noise and bustle of society — distant, 
 
 too, from the mellowed sound that calls to the house of God 
 
 has scarcely a thought more of her own importance in the 
 world than even the sprightly chickens that receive the crumbs 
 she daily collects for them. With amiable natural instincts she 
 
 
 Eich men depend on the poor, as well as the poor on them. 
 
useful than any book you can read. And there is nothing more 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 67 
 
 •e. I 
 
 may indeed cling affectionately to the bosom that once nour- 
 ished her, and reverence the authority of the father that sup- 
 ports her ; but, beyond this, all is, as it were, a social blank. 
 The blushing maiden of sixteen, an older sister, with fair, 
 womanly proportions, may have some fluttering conceptions of 
 the relations she is to sustain in life ; but, how little has she 
 thought or been taught, that she may become the mother of 
 another Daniel Webster or Henry Clay, sitting on the highest 
 pinnacle of fame ! And, of course, how little she has prepared 
 herself to exercise upon her offspring the nice culture which, 
 in its effects, will be visible, generation after generation, beyond 
 human calculation ! 
 
 Women, generally, and especially in rural life, are inclined to 
 think, whenever they do reflect on the subject, that they are 
 placed in a station inferior to that of man, having no influence 
 in society, and scarcely any duties to perform, except those of 
 a menial character. Hence, so little attention has been paid 
 to the culture of their minds ; and, even where much time 
 has been allowed them for school, their studies have been 
 wretchedly adapted to the obligations which devolve on them. 
 Men, indeed, are by Providence, and by the conventional usa- 
 ges of society, to be the protectors of national, domestic, and 
 personal rights : they are to make laws for the government of 
 the State, and of all subordinate institutions ; they are to ad- 
 minister, as well as make the laws ; on them it devolves to en- 
 force the sanctions of these laws-, however severe the penalty ; 
 and, they are responsible for all provision to be made in main- 
 taining those institutions, from the highest to the lowest — from 
 the expenditures of the supreme government of the land, to 
 the smallest outlay for the family fireside. Yet, the important 
 traininor of the minds of men for high and responsible stations, 
 may have come, or should have come, from their mothers. 
 Hence, men become as much indebted to their mothers for 
 ability to fill such stations, as physicians are indebted to medical 
 schools for ability to practice in the healing art. And, if men 
 fail to receive suitable training from their mothers to fill high 
 ofiices, society will probably receive curses rather than bless- 
 ings from their elevation. 
 
 It is a fact pretty generally admitted, that we are not only 
 indebted to our mothers mainly for our infantile, social, and 
 mental developments, but for native talents. If the mother has 
 strong intellectual endowments, whether original or acquired, 
 the presumption is, all other circumstances being equal, her off- 
 spring will afford gratifying evidence of the fact ; and even if 
 the father is of an elevated mental character, and as such giv- 
 
 Refrain not to speak, when by speaking yon may do good. 
 
your own pecuniary means and condition in life, rather than 
 
 68 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS; 
 
 ing unmistakable impressions upon his children, it rarely happens 
 that they will be exempt from delineations of the mother's mind, 
 equally apparent. A biography can rarely be read ■rcithout 'dis- 
 covering admissions of the fact. Cases like that of Washington 
 are as familiar as household words, and need not be repeated. 
 But, the most striking and conclusive e^^dence of such an hy- 
 pothesis will be found in children becoming eminent in life, 
 whose fathers were known to be proverbially destitute of every 
 feature of genius — mere ciphers in the world ; they had moth- 
 ers of distinguished intellect, and to them they must have been 
 indebted for whatever superiority of mind they possess. Jjiving 
 examples of this are at this moment familiar to us. It would 
 be improper to mention names ; but they are well known. 
 When engaged in teaching at Boston, twenty-five years since, 
 we had one incontrovertible illustration in a pupil. The pupil 
 had wonderful perceptions — quick, like lightning ; a power of 
 ratiocination, indicating high attainments in mathematics ; and 
 a memory tenacious as steel. . To us, it at first appeared a mys- 
 tery, for the father was known to us of. the most common order 
 of mind, though having a good position in society from the pos- 
 session of property. In our dilemma, we sought acquaintance 
 with the mother of the pupil. Our labor was not in vain. The 
 paradox was at once solved. She had not, indeed, received the 
 advantages of early education. So far as education was con- 
 cel-ned, she was, like many men, self-made. Yet, her eye 
 betokened the fire that dwelt within ; her mind was transparent 
 like crystal ; her thoughts glittered like diamonds. 
 
 Suppose all the mothers in a country were infidels, and were 
 to teach their offspring to despise Christian ordinances, would 
 their sons be likely to erect the Christian temple ; to maintain 
 the Christian altar, or to administer civil government in the 
 fear of God ? By no means ! Suppose they were all to teach 
 their sons to stop their ears to the wailings of poverty and sick- 
 ness, how frightful, throughout the wide world, would be hu- 
 man misery I Or, suppose they were all to teach their sons, in 
 the business of life, to overreach and defraud, wherever there 
 was opportunity, what spectacles of fiendish knavery would 
 everywhere meet the eye ! On the other hand, if all these 
 mothers were eariy to instill into the minds of their sons les- 
 sons of rational piety, we may expect, by the blessing of God, 
 to see every grade of rulers, from the helm of state to the low- 
 est functionary, emulous to dispense upon the bosom of society 
 the richest blessings designed for man ; in the marts of busi- 
 ness, upon every arch and lintel prominently displayed, the. 
 scales of justice ; and, both in the humble dwelling of penury 
 
 Simplicity of life and manners produces tranquillity of mind. 
 
caTDation over the cheek, like the Boft tints of a Bummer euoset I 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 69 
 
 and in the hallowed pale of the Gospel, we should behold the 
 rich as the stewards of high heaven, laying down in profusion 
 the offerings of beneficence. 
 
 The minister of religion esteems it a high honor to he em- 
 ployed in training souls for heaven. It truly is so ! No other 
 honor is in reality so high. That of the civil ruler does not 
 compare with it. And is it a smaller honor or a less important 
 duty that the mother is ordained to be employed likewise in 
 this holy labor, as well as in preparing her sons especially for 
 the various stations of usefulness and eminence in civil society ? 
 Be assured, were it not for the labors of the pious mother upon 
 her children, the minister of religion would have but small suc- 
 cess. Were pious mothers spread over the whole world, there 
 would be no lands of heathen darkness. Were all the mothers in 
 the world women of high mental culture, casting the type of their 
 minds upon the minds of the children given them, there would 
 be no thrones and high places but those established in right- 
 eousness — no servile homage to human power — no arm stretched 
 out to paralyze the energies of enterprise and social liberty, un- 
 less upon those who are obnoxious to the laws of God and his 
 vicegerents upon earth. 
 
 Suppose now, my young fiiends, that one of you were resolv- 
 ed to become qualified for teaching in oi;e of our principal semi- 
 naries, how industrious would you be in treasuring up the 
 elements of knowledge ! Unless you did thus resolve, you can- 
 not expect to succeed well. In this age of literary enterprise, 
 teachens, to satisfy public expectation, must possess high qualifi- 
 cations. No novice can expect patronage. Let it not here be 
 forgotten that each of you should be thus educated — that the 
 reputation and success of your children in the world will 
 depend far more on what you do for them, than any instruction 
 received in public seminaries. Is it not, then, faV more import- 
 ant for you to become qualified thus to educate your own 
 children, who may thereby become to you ornaments and 
 treasures surpassing in value the diadems of princes and the 
 wealth of bankers, to the receiving a few hundreds of dollars 
 from teaching a few years in a high school ? It is incredible 
 that this subject should be so little understood and so Uttle 
 
 It should not be inferred that the course here pointed out 
 to you should lead you to neglect attention to any appropriate 
 labor with your hands. Neither is inconsistent or incompatible 
 with the other. So far as my own experience and observation, 
 which are by no means limited, enable me to judge, I should 
 say that young persons who labor full half of the time may obtain 
 
 The true way to advance another's virtue, is to follow it. 
 
somewhat weaker, they have to conteHd with passions somewhat 
 
 70 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 
 a better education than tliose who do not labor at all. It often 
 happens that those who labor prudently even three-fourths of 
 the time, obtain, by a long course of judicious application to 
 study, the other fourth, procure a better education than persons 
 brought up wholly without labor. The reason is perfectly 
 obvious. The latter are most always feeble in physical devel- 
 opment, and not much less so in mental power. There is an 
 inefficiency and languor in their application to study ■which pre- 
 vents rapid progress. Few indeed are the exceptions to it. 
 Besides, children nurtured in the lap of ease and apparent afflu- 
 ence have no adequate conception of exertions in reference to 
 obtaining a living. Having money enough, never taught the 
 occasion for using it prudently, they place little or no value 
 upon it; they use it profusely. So it is with their time. Not 
 realizing that, according to Franklin's truthful maxim, time is 
 money, they pay little or no regard to improving it in the best 
 manner. Hence, hours every day, days every month, and 
 months every year, are fritted away, -without evincing the least 
 anxiety to render themselves qualified to maintain themselves or 
 to discharge any labors the public has a right to expect of 
 them. On the other hand, the presumption is that you, con- 
 stantly beholding your fathers and y6ur brothers laboring haid 
 with their own hands, to acquire the money wanted for your 
 own clothes and books, as well as for everything else needed in 
 the family, will feel a deep sympathy for' them in their toils ; 
 will use the money thus obtained with prudence ; will account 
 the periods you are permitted to devote to study, a reward for 
 your fidelity to labor in other periods of it ; and, moreover, con- 
 stantly reminded that your education is not designed for mere 
 accomplishment and display, but to qualify yourself for the 
 duties of adult life ; the whole being impressed upon your 
 minds under the influence of religious sanctions, your prog- 
 ress will be rapid— your course thorough. This is a rational 
 explanation of the fact. 
 
 It so happens that many of you have parents who were not 
 favored with opportunities for education as you are. When 
 they were young, the country was not thickly dotted over with 
 schools as It now is. Then lyceums and district school libraries 
 were scarcely thought of. And, then, a good education was not 
 viewed a matter of common decency as at the present time. 
 Above all, you have seen and felt the inconvenience and the 
 mortifacation they have all along experienced for the want of 
 that knowledge which is spread immediately within your reach 
 You ought, therefore, to be the more stimulated to improve your 
 opportumties for mental improvement. If they are unlearned 
 
 Generally speaking, no man appears great to his eotemporaries. 
 
cords, you may, Mr. Poet, be ehot through by a pair of bright 
 
 o 
 
 "a 
 o 
 bo 
 
 .s 
 
 •a 
 
 ^ 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 71 
 
 there is double necessity that you speedily supply the family 
 deficiency. The older sisters may thus become teachers lo the 
 younger ones, as well as lights and counselors to your parents 
 also. 
 
 So multifarious are the labors on a farm, it is not very easy 
 to furnish general rules as to what young girls may best do. 
 This the good sense and kind regard of the parents can best 
 prescribe. Reference to the best usages of society on this sub- 
 ject should be had. Occupations should not be imposed on 
 you, having in themselves power to debase your fair physical 
 proportions ; to render you masculine in appearance ; or to 
 destroy the delicacy and modesty peculiar to your sex. These 
 should always be preserved with the utmost jealousy. A 
 woman without them is disgusting. The great features of lady- 
 like deportment — ease of manners ; general intelligence ; kind- 
 ness of heart; ready and correct colloquial powers ; and a rigid 
 attention to the etiquette of the most polished society — are 
 attainable on the farm as well as in the city parlor. Not, indeed, 
 an easy familiarity with the frivolities and levities so common to 
 many young ladies of the city. These may well be spared. 
 They are not necessary to constitute the real lady. They rather 
 detract from dignity of manner, than give interest and pleasure 
 to the truly refined and accomplished. 
 
 Among the appropriate labors to be recommended to the 
 daughters of farmers, as well as the daughters of mechanics, is 
 penmanship, that is, the chirography of the family, letters and 
 business accounts, Both farmers and mechanics have such ac- 
 counts with neighbors ; not, indeed, to the extent of merchants, 
 physicians, and shop-keepers, but to an amount requiring care- 
 ful attention. Sometimes these accounts run even for years 
 without being settled or balanced. They ought, therefore, to be 
 kept with the utmost distinctness and precision ; so that if either 
 party shall forget the transaction, the memory may be refreshed 
 by reference to the particulars. To shoiv how these accounts 
 are occasionally kept, to say the least, a single sample will be 
 given. Some years since we had such an account with a very 
 intelligent and wealthy, but illiterate farmer. It had extended 
 over a period of twenty or thirty months, and the whole amount 
 approximated one hundred dollars. As our manner is, we had 
 all the items of debt and credit, the balance being in our favor. 
 At a convenient period we called for a settlement ; but much 
 to our surprise, he had kept no regular account. Some items 
 he had charged, or noted, on different slips of defaced paper ; 
 others were noted with chalk on different parts of tiie ceiling to 
 his kitchen ; and, not a few we had given him credit for, he had 
 
 Fear and hope have been termed the pale and trembling daughters of mortality. 
 
myslerioua magic, takes her seat just oppoisite yon. It is the 
 
 72 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 ■3 
 
 a 
 
 5 
 I 
 
 
 not noted at all. Still, he was a very intelligent man, and in 
 most respects very systematic and accurate. No doubt, multi- 
 tudes of such cases might be found. It is very apparent that 
 the memory of no individual should be trusted with the business 
 details of successive years, in this manner. Human life is un- 
 certain. Human memory is often found to be frail. And owing 
 to this careless method of keeping accounts, and forgetfulness 
 with one or both of the parties, how many unkind feelings have 
 arisen in neighborhoods, and how many lawsuits have been the 
 consequence ! Thus, by the parties, hundreds of dollars have 
 been unnecessarily paid for court and law fees ; and, what is 
 worse, they have spent the remainder of their lives at variance, 
 and at last descended into the grave unreconciled ! 
 
 It may indeed be true that a farmer, at the close of a day of 
 fatiguing labor, is little disposed to sit down and charge one 
 neighbor to a bushel of corn ; another to a sucking pig ; and 
 another to the use of his oxen, or something else, as the case 
 may be. He is not familiar with such matters. His fingers are 
 doubtless stiff; his inkstand may not be readily found; and, 
 possibly when found, it will be without ink ; or the pen, if he 
 finds one, may be so bad, that it will be difficult to make a 
 decent letter or figure. And perhaps, when attempting to do 
 it, the children or the dog will run against the table, causing 
 him to blot and disfigure his book. Or, finally, a neighbor may 
 callupon him, at the very moment he is about commencing 
 operations, and thus engross his attention for the whole evening. 
 This rnay look like a trifle to a person familiar with such mat- 
 ters, with every fixture and material at hand. A regular 
 accountant might do all this in five minutes, and at the same 
 lime be talking about something else. But with a farmer it is not 
 so ; to him it requires an effort greater than holding the plough 
 half a day. Now, how very easily might this always be done 
 by a daughter, if he has one of suitable age, or by his wife ! 
 And, how much satisfaction might she experience in keeping 
 neatly such accounts ! and, on its becoming known, she would 
 acquire a reputation, no one can tell, of what value to her ; not 
 strange, if it were to recommend her to be the wife of one of 
 the best young men in the town. We have known ladies to 
 keep account-books by single entry of considerable magnitude, 
 in a style that would not discredit the cashier of a bank ; and 
 
 we would have every young lady instructed in this art it 
 
 should be a branch of common school education. The daugh; 
 ters of farmers and mechanics might thus render a service to 
 their fathers equal to the cost of their clothing. 
 
 And, we personally know, at least, one finished merchant 
 
 Nobility of birth does not always ioBure a correspondiDg nobility of mind. 
 
tasty ; yet, if the foundation be deficient, where is the worth 
 
 M 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. "73 
 
 who, on his absence from home, directs the clerks to carry his 
 letters to the house before being opened. There his wife opens, 
 examines, and answers them ; then returning them to the office, 
 giving such directions to the clerks as necessary. Who would 
 not be proud of a wife or a daughter that could perform such 
 useful services ? Who would not esteem a competency to do 
 such things a very nice accomplishment for a young lady, es- 
 pecially the daughter of a mechanic or farmer ? 
 
 It is no uncommon thing that women pay less attention, in 
 the country, to their personal appearance, than is to be recom- 
 mended. They can always be clean and tidy when engaged in 
 domestic duties. And if their hair is properly adjusted in the 
 morning, it will remain so through the day. For a neglect thus 
 to arrange it there is no excuse, and to its careful observance 
 they are much indebted for comeliness. The working apparel 
 may be without rent and duly put on, if cheap and much worn. 
 This is even more appropriate and reputable for coarse labor 
 than clothes that are new and expensive. Far be it from us 
 that we encourage extravagance in female dress. This, in cities 
 especially, is one of the greatest evils of the present day. A 
 gentleman that has a wife and four or five daughters to be 
 clothed and ornamented as many city ladies are, will become a 
 bankrupt, unless he has a large net income. Those doing this 
 without a heavy capital, are literally made slaves to sustain the 
 conventional indulgences of fashionable life. The amount thus 
 annually expended is incredible to those who have not witnessed 
 it. Tlie entire income of a decent farm would not clothe the 
 farmer's wife as some ladies in the city are dressed, whose hus- 
 bands may possess less unincumbered property than would pur- 
 chase such a farm. Extravagance like this is an abomination. 
 The authors of it should be expelled from the pale of Christian 
 society. In a moral view, it is a species of robbery, and in the 
 end will show itself to be so. Honest people will have to suffer 
 for it. Nevertheless, as already remarked, comeliness of female 
 attire is not to be denounced ; for it is a trait of character nearly 
 approximating the moral virtues. It would be difficult to imag- 
 ine the existence of a pure mind in a tabernacle so repulsive as 
 that destitute of personal neatness. The one seems wholly 
 incompatible with the other. A woman cannot, therefore, be 
 inattentive to this subject without suffering in the estimation of 
 all who know her. Nature, in most cases, has given to woman 
 symmetrical proportions ; graceful limbs ; a fair countenance ; a 
 sweet voice ; a fascinating eye ; and, if she render herself dis- 
 gusting by a -want of personal neatness and good taste, as well 
 as by a destitution of the moral and social attributes ex- 
 
 p. 
 
 We do not nsually expend labor for that which we can have without labor. 
 
How lovely the tears of affection t Tbeee, cotubiued, are all 
 
 
 .a 
 
 a 
 
 74 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 pected from her sex, she is recreant to the Author of her 
 being. 
 
 It has been urged that neither extreme in female dress is 
 allowable. We assert it again, to make it the more impressive. 
 It cannot be too much urged. The subject is so important as 
 to demand being placed in every possible attitude. There is no 
 necessity or excuse for it ; for there is a fortunate medium that 
 commends itself to the taste of prudent and sensible persons, 
 particularly in the country ; on the one hand satisfying all rea- 
 sonable expectation, and on tlie other, not creating an expendi- 
 ture inconvenient to most persons of comparatively small means. 
 The farmer's daughter, with a suitable calico dress, costing in 
 the range of one dollar and fifty cents, and having suitable 
 under-clothes, all well made and adjusted to the person; the 
 hair being in due order, the face and the hands displaying their 
 native pearly contour, and the teeth clean and white, looks well 
 enough to welcome a princess to her snug little parlor. If she 
 has but one such dress in first-rate condition, and is obliged to 
 spend much of her time in domestic labors, clad in an inferior 
 one, simply on an emergency to substitute the former for the 
 latter, occupies a few minutes only. There are some ladies 
 of large wealth and of the first standing in society, that expe- 
 rience no mortification or discomfiture in receiving transient 
 company, or even in going to church in such a dress, if the 
 weather render that prudent. It would be well if there were 
 more such — a thousand where there is one ; ladies who would 
 not imagine they shall be esteemed in proportion to the cost of 
 the garments they wear. 
 
 Ladies must place an extremely low estimate on their own 
 personal merits and charms — a sparkling brace of eyes ; a fair 
 and ruddy complexion; a set of teeth clean, regular, and 
 white like ivory ; a graceful manner ; and, above all, a well- 
 cultivated mind, when they deem it necessary to attract atten- 
 tion by rich jewelry, a fifty dollar frock, and a hundred dollar 
 shawl. The man of sense will scorn the latter in comparison 
 with the former ; and, when much effort is made to display tlie 
 one, he will be very suspicious there is great deficiency in the 
 other. The farmer's daughter, in a reasonable degree, may 
 always recommend herself to commendation by the former ; and, 
 having less of means for an expensive dress and other artificial 
 decorations, she should never neglect to be duly observant of 
 what nature may have bestowed on her in rich profusion, or 
 what is within the reach of her own agency. To our apprehen- 
 sion, there is a simplicity and a beauty in such personal attrac- 
 tions that cannot fail to inspire the pure in mind with the hio-hest 
 
 A prodigal etarts in the world with a fortuae, but dies worth nothing. 
 
 S-. 
 
being, like it, full of plains, rocks, caverns, and mountains ; 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 75 
 
 1^ 
 
 admiration. Compared vvitli the splendors of the rich man's 
 drawing-room, and even the glitterina'S' of royalty, these are 
 the charms that will never become insipid. Nay, with the 
 progress of time they will be more and more prized, till the 
 end of life. 
 
 Women in the country, both mothers and daughters, are some- 
 times unwisely inattentive to their peisonal appearance, because it 
 is so seldom they see company. This is a reason for being even 
 more particular. For, if they see company at their houses but once 
 a month, and are then in a state of dishabille, or a condition to 
 appear to disadvantage, it will be a long period before the im- 
 pressions can be effaced. A slander long uncontradicted will 
 be cherished as truth. So in the particular under consideration. 
 Besides, the position assumed is predicated on a most curious 
 logic : to wit, that personal appearance in ladies is a matter of 
 no consideration unless seen by visitors or strangers. Does the 
 wife, then, think it a matter of indifference whether she commend 
 herself or not in this respect, as she did before marriage, to the 
 favorable opinion of her husband ? Has she made the discovery 
 that he has lost his taste for female beauty and comeliness, or 
 that he never had any ? Or, will she constructively fall back 
 on a most dishonorable horn of the dilemma, and say that she 
 has caught him — has made him secure — and, that he cannot now 
 help himself, though she appear like a fishmonger or a bedlam- 
 ite ? If such be her alternative, no wonder that there are now- 
 a-days so many unhappy matches ; that coldness and apathy so 
 often spring up between man and wife, like poisonous reptiles,^ 
 ruinous to domestic bliss, as when they first appeared in ancient 
 Eden. Let the wedded pair, whether in the country or the 
 city, take the same pains to please each other that they did 
 when -jvooing each other; and it need not be apprehended that 
 strife and contention will take the place of eariy love ! 
 
 An application to the daughters similar to that here made to 
 the mother is equally pertinent. Do they imagine that their 
 father and mother have no taste and feel no pride or mortifi- 
 cation in relation to themselves ? Or, can they fancy that their 
 brothers, if so fortunate as to have brothers, are not keenly sen- 
 sitive to this subject in all its delicate relations? To whom 
 are you under so much obligation as to these members of your 
 own household ; to these kindred of your own flesh and blood ? 
 Have you no desire to gratify them ; and, in gratifying them, as 
 it were, to pay them for what they are daily doing for you? If 
 the father can rationally be proud of anything on earth, it is 
 beautiful, lovely, sensible, and affectionate daughters. If he 
 ever have idols, they are his idols 1 If there is anything that. 
 
 A miser starts in the world a pauper, but at last dies leaving a fortune. 
 
of the sea is a circumstance wliich considerably affects the 
 
 76 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 'M 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a. 
 
 seems to compensate him for all his daily toils, it is the enjoys 
 ment of their sprightly conversation in a long winter evening. 
 And, if there is anything in this gay, bewildering world, ordina- 
 rily prized by good young men, above every other object, it is 
 beautiful, sensible, and affectionate sisters. Rarely will they 
 seek society away from their father's house, if there they can 
 enjoy the society of such a sister. When did such brothers 
 ever nsgiect to provide for such a sister, or to revenge an insult 
 to her, if at the hazard of their own life ? 
 
 In the country there are no amusements as in the city ; no 
 theatres — no concerts — no public exhibitions — and rarely liter- 
 ary and scientific lectures. Families, therefore, in the country 
 have to provide their own means of making home interesting 
 and agreeable. Instead of being dependent on others for this, 
 they must rely on themselves. If they would enjoy social 
 pleasure, it must be of their own creation. The members of the 
 household must generally be society for each other. Their 
 amusements must be the emanations of their own invention ; and, 
 if they experience intellectual zest, it must be derived from 
 books or from the scintillations of their own united genius. 
 This may not always be an easy task ; but it is more within the 
 reach of most families than is generally imagined. On the 
 female members this is mainly dependent ; and, even more, on 
 daugliters arriving at womanhood, than on the mother. It is in 
 tlieir power to render any situation comparatively a place of 
 delight. The shadow of their comely forms on the surround- 
 ing walls will never fail to please the eye of the beholder. Sad- 
 ness and melancholy can never dwell in an enclosure echoing 
 with the accents of their sweet voice, whether in music or con- 
 versation ; and, tliey can thus do much to make the weary for- 
 get their toils, and the sorrowful to cast away their mental 
 anguish. 
 
 The mansion of the common farmer, in the evening concourse, 
 may indeed be cheerless to its own inmates, and paralyzing and 
 repulsive to all others. Oftentimes it is so to a lamentable de- 
 gree. Let us picture in imagination what is a reality in thou- 
 sands of places. The western sun had already ceased to throw 
 its last rays on the surrounding landscape. Twilight, too, was 
 rapidly fading from human vision. The laborers are returning, 
 one by one, from arduous toils. Each enters the common re- 
 ceptacle in silence. No kind salutations greet them. No ablu- 
 tions are made by them ; nor are there any changes of apparel 
 — that of each being from perspiration cold and clammy to the 
 wearer, and exhaling to all present the multitudinous odors of 
 everything in which it had been in proximity. Scarcely is there 
 
 An absolute freedom in religions discussions has never yet existed. 
 
than two miles in height ; the more dense range within one 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 77 
 
 % 
 
 .a 
 
 a 
 
 light sufficient to define each other's identity. Sullen silence 
 ensues, for it can be called by no other name ; interrupted, 
 verily, now and then, by the intonations of a somniferous pro- 
 logue to a more sound oblivion to the world and all its cares. 
 Thus, the evening is passed in sluggish pace ; no conversation ; 
 no reading; no interchange of smiles or kind assiduities; all 
 appearing to be worn down with toil, and in as much indiffer- 
 ence to each other and to all the world as the groups of cattle 
 in the barn-yard, which repose in heartless fellowship. 
 
 This can scarcely be called living ! In this there is naught 
 deserving the name of human society. In this there are none 
 of the beatitudes of love and family affection. Indeed, for this 
 cold shadow of human pleasure there is no necessity. An anti- 
 dote may be furnished for all these anti-social tendencies. They 
 may be neutralized. The gleamings of joy may be made to 
 shoot up in this desolate waste. There may liave been great 
 exhaustion of physical power. The mind may have become 
 prostrated as well as the body. Rest and sleep, to superficial 
 observers, may seem to be the only remaining alternatives to 
 restore nature's equilibrium. However, philosophy tells us there 
 are better palliatives for these pangs of overtaxed nature ; bet- 
 ter restoratives for her palsied energies. Sleep, the grand pan- 
 acea for giving fresh energy to animal life, fails to be in the 
 highest degree efficacious, when compelled to act on adverse 
 predispositions. Let the disturbed elements of life be first 
 soothed, then sleep will be quiet and refreshing. Before na- 
 ture's wounds are closed up, let them be cleansed and mollified, 
 and then they will heal to their recesses. Or, in other words, 
 prior to sleep with worn-down laborers of the farm, let there be 
 free ablutions and changes of raiment. This will render the 
 skin susceptible to all its legitimate functions. There will be no 
 obstruction to a free respiration. The muscles, too, will be ren- 
 dered pliable and active. And, as a consequent, the mind will 
 begin to exercise its accustomed buoyancy. Nevertheless, this 
 latter process needs special appliances ; the soothings of assiduous 
 friendship and love ; the excitement occasioned by enlightened 
 thought, amid conversation in the family circle. Here is to be 
 found the balsam that imparts vivacity and vigor to the languid 
 mind. Here, then, let the female head of the family appear as 
 a central point of affection, conjugal and maternal, exliibiting the 
 dignity of the matron, and, like an angel of kindness, all the en- 
 dearing ministrations peculiar to her sex. Under such auspices, 
 the brow of her youthful companion will cease to be stern and 
 unyielding ; and, to her fresh impulses of early love, he will not 
 fail to give a response — at first, perhaps, involuntary, but 
 
 He that shortens the road to knowledge, in reality adds to the length of life. 
 
of the sun and the earth. So intense, oftentimes, are these 
 
 J3 
 
 78 ADVICE, TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 
 
 ere long its tone will rise from the deep fountain of the 
 heart. 
 
 Nor should the daughters neglect to afford their cheerful 
 ministrations ! Let them assist their father and their brothers 
 in the personal renovations alluded to ; then, let them read ; 
 let them sing; let them converse; let them by these means dis- 
 pel from the place everything like sadness and listlessness ; let 
 them exert all their natural sensibilities and all their acquired 
 moral and intellectual endowments, to the entertainment and 
 happiness of those on whose kindness they live, and under whose 
 protection their rights and their fame are maintained. If they 
 would habitually, and especially at the close of the day, upon 
 the threshold of the mansion, with smiles and caresses, meet 
 their father and their brothers returning from the fields, how 
 much it would make them regardless of the severity of their 
 tasks ! Then, let the evening be spent amid the hallowed influ- 
 ences indicated, and we shall perceive the power of social sym- 
 pathy in the female bosom ; all the members of the family 
 becoming refreshed and invigorated ; becoming one in kindred 
 affection and Christian love ; becoming one in aspiration to 
 Heaven for safety during the silent watches of the night ; and 
 one, also, in renewed consecration to the impulses of faith and 
 obedience. How sweet will then be the repose of sleep ! How 
 soft its pillow ! How calm and undisturbed its breath I The 
 morning of the succeeding day will be to each member of such 
 a family like a morning in paradise, without a cloud upon the 
 soul. 
 
 Most of you may have brothers. Possibly there are cases 
 where, now and then, they will become the victims of intem- 
 perance ; or licentiousness ; or gambling ; or irreligion I How 
 much a sister's love and assiduity may effect, if seasonably 
 exerted, in preventing such family calamities ! If you discover 
 in one of them the least appearance of such an inclination, re- 
 proach him not ; that may do more injury than benefit. Do 
 no such thing. Such weapons may goad him on ; may lead 
 him to desperation ; may even seal his ruin. I pray you, my 
 young friends, do no such thing. If you would prevail, be wise 
 as serpents and harmless as the cooing doves. If you succeed, 
 great indeed will be your victory I Honorable will be your 
 triumph ! The hope of a kind father and the first-born of an 
 agonized mother may perchance be rescued from destruction, 
 while a dear brother may be preserved to protect and to bless 
 yourself to the day of your death. Be wise, then, in your 
 efforts ! Watch your opportunities. At some auspicious mo- 
 ment, when the softened shades of evening are gathering over 
 
 
 ^ 
 4 
 
 r 
 
 Sobriety, temperance, and tranquillity, are nature's best physiciiins. 
 
the sun's rays, and to the effects produced on them by heat. 
 
 ADVICE TO THE DAUGHTERS OF FARMERS. 79 
 
 
 you both with their pensive influences, or the light of the sil- 
 very moon is playfully controlling the more unsubdued attri- 
 butes of youthful ardor and impetuosity, and are beguiling him 
 to the bewitching reveries of chastened passion, take him gently 
 by the hand ; impress upon his feverish lips the pious fervor 
 of your own ; with your arms about his neck, press him to your 
 full bosom ; then overwhelm hira with your kind entreaties ; 
 and letting these entreaties, each on your bended knees, be 
 sanctified by a sister's prayer : believe me, dear maiden, your 
 work will then be accomplished ! For if the spirits of the 
 other world ever watch the events of this, they must now have 
 been present ; thus, heaven ratifying and confirming the peni- 
 tential vows of a returning prodigal. 
 
 How soft affection's accents fall 
 On babe, on friend, on wife, on all I 
 Like breeze that sweeps the violet's breast, 
 Or lulls the frightened dove to rest. 
 
 When men speak ill of you, live so that nobody will believe them. 
 
It is most abundant in tropical regions, and decreases in propor- 
 
 
 f 
 
 T3 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH 
 
 Cowper says of labor — 'Tis the primal curse, 
 But softened into mercy, made the pledge 
 Of cheerful days and nights without a groan. 
 
 The opinion too commonly entertained, that the cultivation of 
 the ground meets with scanty remuneration only compared with 
 other occupations, is altogether erroneous. It is difficult to 
 imagine how such an opinion can have been formed by persons 
 of good sense. It is true, that agriculturists, for labor, do not 
 receive as high wages as are sometimes paid to first-rate arti- 
 sans, and particularly confidential clerks and accountants in large 
 mercantile houses, banks, and insurance offices. But then it 
 should be remembered, that while here and there an individual 
 receives a large salary for personal services, it may be, several 
 hundreds receive barely sufficient to meet their necessary per- 
 sonal expenses. Nor should it be left out of the comparison, 
 that by the usages of society, laboring men, or even farm-owners, 
 dress at a quarter or half of the expense deemed necessary in 
 professional life or mercantile occupations. Hence, ordinarily, 
 a laboring farmer, receiving two hundred dollars a year, will 
 lay by more than a clerk in the city receiving five or six hun- 
 dred. And cases are by no means frequent, that a clerk in a 
 city, receiving one thousand dollars per annum, will have any- 
 thing remaining after paying his expenses, especially if he has 
 a family. 
 
 It may be said there is no reason for their expending so 
 much. Possibly, some may expend more freely thnn they 
 should do ; but in most cases of clerkships, not enougli is re- 
 ceived to enable them to spend more than is necessary accord- 
 ing to the usages of society, which are about equal in force to 
 legal enactments. It may be said, too, that laborers on a 
 farm toil more severely than in other occupations, especially in 
 the learned professions or mercantile business. Such, indeed, 
 may appear to be the fact, to persons who have not had expe- 
 rience in both. Nevertheless, those who have had such expe- 
 rience, will give assurance to the contrary. No doubt that in 
 particular portions of the year, each not of long continuance, 
 
 Teomen in leather doublets may be of more value than lords in velvet robes. 
 

 
 ' '*'' T 
 
 It:;*.*-/* t t 
 
 
 ..^.- 
 
•a 
 
 B 
 
 u 
 
 tilize it. Di', Halley attempted to estimate the vapor draton 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 81- 
 
 farmers may labor more arduously than most other persons, 
 particularly in the cases to which reference has been made. 
 Yet, the latter have no cessation — their toils -are, ^sTt'w'ere, 
 every day in the year, foul weather as well ag^fijir — wint&-as 
 well as summer ; and during the press of business, till late at 
 night; probably confined to labor, in the whole year, two 
 hours, where the farmer labors one hour. , 
 
 Nor is this all. With the farmer it is mainly manual labo*^ 
 no extra mental efforts — no solicitude — nc(vdistracting ansiety — 
 no vexations to keep him awake nights, ' Far from it ; his la- 
 bors finely prepare him for rest, and his sleep is sweet, sounjd, 
 and refreshing. Not so, generally, is it with busindgs men^ In 
 the first place, such is the competition in mercantile and manu- 
 facturing pursuits, that the mind is constantly on the. styetch to 
 find opportunities for investment that will yield a fair cOnipen- 
 sation; thus, even in devising plans for business, there: is often 
 as much real wear to the human system as there is in the labor 
 of carrying them into execution. When at the table for their 
 meals, and wnen on their pillows for repose, their thoughts 
 may be intensely strained in devising and maturing such schemes. 
 Besides, when all this is accomplished, and a fair profit is actu- 
 ally earned, how frequently does it occur that apprehensions of 
 loss from debtors or depreciation of merchandise will, by night 
 and bys day, for months, gnaw upon the mind like a canker — 
 driving away sleep, producing frightful dreams, and, as it were^ 
 pressing its .victims into the very dust ! 
 
 Added to this, the occasional derangetpent in the monetary 
 affairs of a community are more effectual in destroying all men- 
 tal quiet and repose, thah a *whole regiment of ghosts in their full 
 costume, and with the paralyzing echoes of their unearthly voice. 
 How do such exhibitions., test the moral courage of the mer- 
 chant ! How do they destroy his physical energies ! How do 
 they mar his social affections ! ' Nor is this a mere spasm of a 
 disordered imagination. The sad reality often follows. A ship- 
 wreck on the ocean ; a commercial^gvuision ; or a wide-spread 
 conflagration, often sweeps away uie : accumulation of years, 
 leaving; the sufferers .in poverty and perplexing eifbarrassn^erit, 
 from'Avhich no exemption is of a certainty found, till in the 
 grave. Let young men in rural life, inclined to be dissati^d 
 with their condition, think of all this before they resolve to change 
 their occupations. When half bewildered with the apparent^ 
 exemption from labor in other pursuits ; with the idea of fine 
 clothes, rich furniture, and a profusion of money rising to view 
 in their visions in those pursuits, let them look on the other 
 side of the picture before they' resolve to relinquish the reality 
 
 ^; 
 
 a. 
 
 If you would know a bad husband, look at his wife's countenance. 
 
splitting trees, knocking down men and horses, and even plough- 
 
 82 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 they hold in possession for what, in ninety-nine cases out of a 
 hundred, would become to them most bitter and heart-rending 
 realities. 
 
 The idea that the wealth of a country is mainly in specie and 
 stocks of various kinds, is a delusion. As long as money is the 
 representative of most kinds of property, a man with his five 
 thousand dollars of cash on hand, or suitabl}' invested, may ap- 
 pear much more eligibly situated than his neighbor with a farm, 
 and stock, and a year's produce on hand worth five thousand 
 dollars. Money on hand, or securities for it, may be displayed 
 and counted over with a gusto, of which the possessions in 
 rural life are not susceptible. Yet a little examination will 
 satisfy any one, that ordinarily the situation of the latter is far 
 preferable. In the first place, the fanner's property is perfectly 
 safe. It is in no way liable in any considerable degree to loss. 
 Unless an earthquake sinks his farm, it remains to his posterity. 
 Besides, if properly cultivated, it is growing better every year. 
 Not so is it with the estate of the moneyed man. If he keeps 
 his cash on hand, it earns nothing, and he will soon eat it all 
 up. If it is invested, his security may fail, and total loss en- 
 sue. In the second place, with the frugal, industrious habits 
 OH a farm, five thousand dollars in a farm, stock, and produce, 
 will give a family a nice living. But, in the other case, it will 
 require ten or fifteen thousand dollars to give a family of equal 
 size a living equally comfortable. In the third place, the farmer 
 supports his family mainly upon his own productions and re- 
 sources. He is not obliged to resort to some one else for every 
 meal of victuals to be eaten. He owes no one — if he act wisely. 
 He has no fears that knaves or unfortunate men will deprive 
 him of the means of living. Whether agricultural products are 
 abundant or small, he has enough. If cheap or dear, it is the 
 same to him, for he has no occasion to purchase. Far other- 
 wise is it with his neighbor. For every raeal of victuals he 
 needs, he is dependent on the farmer. If prices are higher 
 than usual from scarcity, his income is not sufficient to procure 
 a supply without diminishing his capital. Also, he may be 
 obHged to spend half of his means, in seasons of scarcity, in 
 gbmg great distances to obtain the articles wanted. The con- 
 clusion, therefore, is irresistible, that of these two, the farmer 
 is far most independent and comfortable. 
 
 If such be the fact with two individuals, it must be essen- 
 tially the same with collective numbers. Let us suppose a 
 town of five thousand inhabitants, which will be about seven 
 hundred families. It may be that one hundred of these fami- 
 lies, which is a large proportion, are supported by the interest 
 
 Every fool can find faults that a grieat many wise men cannot mend. 
 
during winter, the natives make houses under the surface of the 
 
 •A 
 
 :2 
 a. 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 83 
 
 
 of money already earned, er by profits on trade, or manufac- 
 tures ; one hundred more by day-labor ; and the remaining five 
 hundred by the products of their farms. It requires no meta- 
 physics to show that the latter class, as a whole, as in the case 
 of the two individuals supposed, are the most easy and inde- 
 pendent in their circumstances. Besides, the probability is, 
 that of the first class, not more than twenty are, in reality, worth 
 anything, if their debts were paid. llow many persons who in life 
 seem to have abundant means for trade and for sustenance, are 
 found insolvent by their administrators ! Their principal means 
 was \heir credit ; and if, at any period, they liad real means, 
 the whole was used up or lost in business. 
 
 The fact is undeniable. The number of destitute widows 
 and orphans, wlro once supposed themselves not within the 
 reach of poverty, is incakulable. Who keep the countless 
 number of boarding-houses in our cities ? Mostly the widows 
 of men once of ample means, but died insolvent 1 Who there 
 make that -extensive class of women, that support themselves 
 and families by their needles, making shirts at ten cents each, 
 and by thus working till midnight, perhaps earn four or five 
 dollars a week ? Mostly th-e widows of men once of ampk 
 means, but who died insolvent ! Who make the tens of thou- 
 sands of paJe-faced, dejected young women, some with death's 
 hectic on the cheek, that work daily in millinery and dress- 
 making establishments — in book-binderies — trimming hats — 
 binding shoes, and the like ? Mostly, the daughters of these 
 same men ; yet who, in their days of prosperity, would not 
 allow their wives and children freely even to breathe the pure 
 air, lest they should have become tinctured with disease ; much 
 less to perform any servile labor 1 Let me ask if to farmers 
 such monuments are often erected? Monuments whose in- 
 scriptions are thus written in tears of scalding heat, and whose 
 frost-like surfaces, could tliey come in contact with the spirits 
 whose names they perpetuate, would impart the chill of a 
 second death ? Far from it. Ordinarily, the children of de- 
 ceased farmers, or some of them, remain in the same homestead, 
 with undiminished competency, maintaining, in successive time, 
 the family name. Such are the monuments raised to their 
 memory. 
 
 Let it be supposed that one hundred young men, at the same 
 period, reach the age of twenty-one years. One half of the 
 number devote themselves to agriculture, to which they have 
 been trained; and the other half devote themselves to mer- 
 chandise, to which they have been trained. Which portion will 
 be most prosperous ? Which portion will ac quire most prop- 
 
 Trust not the praise of a friend, nor the contempt of an enemy. 
 
 i-^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
with great reverence. To strike a parent, is punished with 
 
 84 AGRTCULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 I '-3 
 
 erty ? Which portion will be the most useful citizens ? And 
 which portion will be likely to live the longest ? It will be im- 
 possible to answer these questions with perfect accuracy, be- 
 cause it is impossible to follow one hundred persons, so situated, 
 through life. However, by making observations on society at 
 large, we can tell very nearly what will be the career, and what 
 the comparative success of these persons. The agriculturists 
 will experience but little vicissitude. Their career will be mo- 
 notonous. Seed-time and harvest, year after year, will make 
 the principal eras in their life. All of them, we presume, will 
 cultivate their own farms. All of them will have families. All 
 of them will be able comfortably to support their families ; 
 and about one-fifth of the number will become comparatively 
 wealthy for the country. But how is it with the fifty who de- 
 vote themselves to merchandise ? Do they all marry and have 
 families ? Only about two-thirds of them. Do they all reach 
 the same aggregate age ? No. The farmers, as a class, live 
 ten per cent, longer than the merchants. And how do they 
 prosper in business ? It may be that one of the fifty will be- 
 come a rich man ; that five will have property of their own to 
 live comfortably ; that ten will receive a decent living from 
 clerkships ; and that at the end of thirty years, or when they 
 reach the age of fifty-one, most of the remaining ones will be 
 dead, or no where to be found. And of the mercantile class 
 there will be only half or two-thirds as many children as of 
 the farmers, promising to make useful citizens in the world. 
 This is believed a very fair comparison between the two classes ; 
 or, if it fails of accuracy, that the disparity in the reality will 
 much exceed the calculation. 
 
 It seems to have gained credence, that there is little or no 
 wealth belonging to the agricultural community. Such an as- 
 sumption must have proceeded from great ignorance or the 
 most superficial views. A hasty glance on the subject will pre- 
 sent its fallacy. Take, if you please, the State of New Jersey — 
 by no means the most eligible place for my purpose — and the 
 fallacy will be seen. There are nearly five million acres of land 
 in the state. However, I will call it four millions, which, at 
 twenty-five dollars per acre, will make the land capital of New 
 Jersey sixty millions of dollars. Now, if we suppose this terri- 
 tory divided into farms of one hundred acres each ; and, that 
 appertaining to each of these farms are farming implements, 
 stock, produce, and other personal property, to the value of one 
 thousand dollars, here will be an aggregate of forty millions of 
 dollars more ; making the agricultural wealth of the state one 
 hundred millions of dollars. Now let those who are able to do 
 
 Buy what you do not want, and you will sell what you cannot spare. 
 
high mountains. It also passes valleys, and even wide rivers, by means 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 85 
 
 S 
 
 it, tell what is the mercantile and manufacturing capital of the 
 state. It would be gratifying to believe it is half that sum. 
 To give a further idea of the agricultural wealth of this whole 
 country, I will leave suppositions, and introduce a paragraph of 
 facts, being statistics of staple products in a single year. 
 
 A gentleman of Boston, who pays much attention to the agri- 
 cultural productions of the United States, toward the close of the 
 year 1846 furnished the first six items in the following table. It 
 will be perceived that he affixed prices when on the advance, 
 but before bread-stuflfs reached their highest rates. In the 
 spring of 184'7 Indian corn rose to one dollar, and even one dol- 
 lar and twenty-five cents per bushel. Oats to seventy-five 
 cents. Wheat and other grain in the same ratio. Potatoes to 
 one dollar. The prices he named may be considered an aver- 
 age standard price for a, succession of years in the vicinity of 
 the Atlantic cities. 
 
 430,000,000 
 
 28,000,000 
 
 160.000,000 
 
 180,000,000 
 
 l.'),O00,00O 
 
 200,000,000 
 
 220,164,000 
 
 1,041,500,000 
 
 103,040,500 
 
 324,940,.500 
 
 22,995,000 
 
 13,000,000 
 
 26,000,000 
 
 20,000,000 
 
 bushels of Indian Coro, at 10 cents, 
 
 barrels of Flour, at $6, 
 
 barrels of Oats, at 35 cents, 
 
 bushels of Eye, Barley, and otlier grain, at 
 
 70 cents, 
 tons of Hay, at $8 per ton, . 
 bushels of Potatoes, at 40 cents, 
 pounds of Tobacco, valued at 
 pounds of Cotton, valued at 
 pounds of Eice, valued at 
 pounds of Sugar, valued at 
 pounds of Honey, valued at 
 gallons of Molasses, valued at 
 bushels of Beans, valued at 
 bushels of Peas, valued at 
 
 $383,000,000 
 
 140,000,000 
 
 56,000,000 
 
 120,000,000 
 
 120,000,000 
 
 80,000,000 
 
 11,008,200 
 
 72,905,000 
 
 3,091,216 
 
 19,496,430 
 
 2,299,590 
 
 3,230,000 
 
 25,000,000 
 
 30,000,000 
 
 $1,071,050,436 
 
 It will be observed that the above table gives the leading 
 staple agricultural products for a single year only. Other arti- 
 cles, of less value, might have been added, as any one will per- 
 ceive. Here is neither beef, nor pork, nor butter, nor cheese, nor 
 wool, nor hemp and flax. If an estimate were made of the annual 
 value of these articles produced and consumed, it would be an 
 amount startling to the man who has not reflected on such subjects. 
 Our population is twenty millions. Suppose each individual 
 consumes two hundred pounds of meat annually, which is but a 
 fraction more than half a pound per day, and it be valued at 
 five cents the pound ; this will make ten dollars for each per- 
 son, and two hundred millions of dollars for the meat every year 
 consumed in the United States. Similar calculations might be 
 made for other articles of necessary consumption, and with sim- 
 
 T he wise man knows the fool, but the fool knows not the wise man. 
 
root, and thus form new trunks, so that each tree is a grove. 
 
 S 
 
 86 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 ilar results. It is superfluous to asK whence come all these 
 things ? Who furnish the food for these twenty nsillions of 
 human beings, and the raw materials for everything else wanted 
 by them for apparel, for equipage, and for houses? 
 
 It is not designed here, or elsewhere in this work, to make 
 illiberal or envious comparisons between persons of different 
 occupations in life. We aim at a higher purpose — to produce 
 enlarged views and liberal feelings. While we would repel the 
 idea that the yeomanry and mechanics of a country are less re- 
 spectable than those of other pursuits, we would not, from the 
 fact that the former produce everything required in the support 
 of life, insinuate that merchants, for instance, are a useless class 
 in the community. While one produces for the other, the lat- 
 ter aids the former in disposing to advantage of his surplus 
 productions. The hand might as well say to the foot, I have 
 no need of tliee ; and the foot to the eye, I have no need of 
 thee ; and the eye to the ear, I have no need of thee. All 
 industrious classes in the community, occupied in labor tending 
 to the promotion of the general welfare, are useful to each 
 other; and neither could be relinquished without detriment to 
 the rest. After all, merchants are but little else than factors 
 for the producing classes, particularly the yeomanry. It does 
 not alter this fact, that sometimes a farmer is straitened for 
 money, and is obliged to let the merchant take his produce at 
 a ruinous price. Where this once happens, it happens twenty 
 times that farmers, if disposed, might let the merchants and 
 other non-producing classes starve to death. This does not 
 occur, because the good sense of all leads all to the admission, 
 and its practical sequent, that all are members of the same 
 body politic, and are needful to each other, as the different 
 members in the animal organization are needful to its per- 
 fection. 
 
 Still, it should not be forgotten that factors are mainly 
 dependent on their principals — merchants on farmers — thougli 
 the former may have at command more money than the latter. 
 If the money be their own, how did they procure it ? Evi- 
 dently, from the labor and the products of the other. They 
 either sell on commission, receiving a per centage on the amount 
 of the sales ; or else, they make purchases on their own ac- 
 count, and sell again at an advance upon the price paid. Thus, 
 if one sell on commission one hundred thousand barrels of 
 flour at five dollars per barrel, at a commission of two and a 
 half per cent., he realizes for his services and expenses twelve 
 thousand and five hundred dollars for his year's business, pro- 
 vided this be the business of a year. Or, if he purchase that 
 
 The wolf may Ipse his teeth, though he never loses his propensity for blood. 
 
are fond of ■white teeth, they of black ; our common drinks are 
 
 3 
 
 s 
 ■3 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 37 
 
 quantity, and run the risk of selling it to a profit, and does in 
 reality sell it at five per cent, advance upon the sum paid for 
 it, he realizes for his business in the year twenty-five thousand 
 dollars. In this way the factor malies his living, and if he has 
 a sufficient amount of business and meets with no losses, be- 
 comes more or less rich, depending on other circumstances. 
 Thus, it will be perceived, that if the factor does business to 
 this amount with cash in hand, he must already be rich. If the 
 cash belong to a third party, the profits are to be divided. 
 Few only can have the means to do a business of that magni- 
 tude with cash. Or, suppose the factor does his business upon 
 the credit system, and makes bad debts, it may not only take 
 away all his commissions for the year, but even cast him into 
 bankruptcy. Hence, the uncertainty of mercantile pursuits. 
 It may be that not one merchant in a hundred has the cash 
 facilities to do business at the best advantage ; and all the re- 
 mainder do it on such precarious principles, as to render the 
 chance of ultimate success extremely small. 
 
 Our present purpose, however, in showing the amount of ag- 
 ricultural wealth in the country, is to show also its commercial 
 importance. It is not apparent to ordinary visual organs, that 
 there would be, as it were, no commerce without agriculture ; 
 and, if no commerce, of course no vessels and no cities. Vessels 
 and cities are the incidents of commerce, and the latter is mainly 
 the incident of agriculture. For if every product of the soil 
 were excluded, what would there be left for merchandise ? It 
 is granted that salted and pickled fish of every sort ; iron and 
 steel in every form ; grindstones, too ; all the products of the 
 ocean not before included ; all mineral productions found on the 
 surface or in the bowels of the earth, make exceptions ; but we 
 scarcely can think of anything else. These, truly, are not the 
 result of agricultural labor ; and the merchant is not dependent 
 on this labor for all he can make out of these things. A second 
 thought suggests, however, that there should be a little qualifi- 
 cation to the admission. You may reply, surely the farmer has 
 nothing to do with the production of codfish or mackerel, or 
 halibut, or smoked herring, or salmon, or whale-oil. True, he 
 had nothing to do in their production. He never nurtured or 
 fed these inhabitants of the briny deep. Their instincts led 
 them to their own procreation, and also to roam at large from 
 north to south and from east to west, procuring as they went 
 their own food. The farmer neither fed nor clothed ihem, nor 
 built them houses Or barns. As they exist in the ocean, they 
 are wholly independent of his agency. But when we find them 
 in the marts of trade, as objects of merchandise, it is not quite 
 
 There is nothing worse than a proud mind and an empty purse. 
 
During a rebellioo, he made a tow to build one of human 
 
 88 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 5^ 
 
 SO. On what did the mechanics live, while building the ships, 
 which went in search of these marine elements of wealth ; and 
 on what did the sailors subsist during their voyages in seeuring 
 them? On ship-bread made from the farmer's flour ; and beef 
 and pork, which the farmer fatted and sent to market. 
 
 The admission is particularly applicable to iron and steel, as 
 we see them exhibited among the useful implements of civilized 
 society. We admit, as we did above, that as crude minerals, 
 when existing in their native quarries, they were as God made 
 them. Man had no agency in their existence. But, it is not to 
 be overlooked, that as crude minerals they had comparatively 
 no value. They are so abundant as to be but little more pre- 
 cious than a rich garden loam. Their whole value is given to 
 them by labor. It is said that steel, made into the main-springs 
 of the watch, is augmented in value more than a thousand per 
 cent. And who does not know what increased value is given 
 to it, wh6n made into fine cutlery ? A piece of steel that 
 might conveniently be carried in one pocket, converted into sur- 
 gical instruments or highly finished penkni-ves, will probably be 
 worth one hnndred dollars. Hence it will be seen that it is 
 mainly the labor of the artist, applied to these raw materials, 
 from which the merchant derives his profit, and not from the 
 materials themselves. And the artists, as in the case of ship- 
 building, and the sailors in catching fish, receive their sustenance 
 from the hand of the agriculturist. It is much the same even 
 with grindstones. They do not leap, self-formed, like living an- 
 imals, from their hard-made beds. Coarse as they are, the 
 application of labor was requisite to mould them into the shape 
 demanded for mercantile and mechanical uses. 
 
 If such demonstrations come from the exceptions first made 
 from our main hypothesis, how conclusive will be the argument 
 when directed to cases of a more obvious and palpable descrip- 
 tion ! The great staples of agricultural production set down in 
 our tabular paragraph, if viewed in all their remote relation to 
 commerce, will assume an importance which they do not there 
 present. As there exhibited in one mass, they do indeed show 
 an enormous amount of wealth ; over one thousand millions of 
 dollars. Let it as one mass become an article of merchandise. 
 To what a host of persons will it give occupation and support I 
 How many ships would be required to transport it ! What a 
 multitude of sailors to man those ships ! And, for aught we 
 know, it might require a chain of railroad cars that would reach 
 round the globe to transport the whole of it at once across the 
 two continents. Dividing this into parcels of one hundred thou- 
 sand dollars each, it will make a business for ten thousand 
 
 When a pioud man heats another praised, he thidUs himself injured. 
 
After one of hii; first battles, he caused several large caldrons 
 
 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH, 89 
 
 
 wholesale merchants ; and if each has ten subordinates, clerks, 
 porters, and carmen, it makes a business for one hundred thou- 
 sand persons ; and giving support, including their families, to at 
 least five hundred thousand souls. Yet, this is but a shadow 
 of the reality ; but a mere fragment of the entire mercantile 
 process. 
 
 These agricultural products, like other merchandise, do not 
 pass directly from the wholesale merchant to the consumer. In 
 almost every instance the retailer makes treble the profit on them 
 that is made by the farmer. Sometimes they pass through two 
 or three different hands before their transit is complete ; each, 
 as a matter of course, receiving his per centage. Take as a 
 sample the article of flour, passing from the merchant to the re- 
 tailer ; from the retailer to the baker ; frequently from the baker 
 back to the retailer in the form of bread, and then to the con- 
 sumer. All that exercise any agency or employ capital in these 
 transitions are to be duly paid ; so that, when in the hands of 
 the consumer, it must be estimated at nearly one hundred per 
 cent, above the sum paid to the producer for it. Take also the 
 article of cotton, passing from the producer to the wholesale 
 merchant ; from him to the manufacturer ; from the manufac- 
 turer to the commission merchant ; from the latter to the retailer ; 
 and from him to the consumer. Here are five different transits, 
 each attended with carrying expenses, in addition to the mer- 
 cantile per centage each party is entitled to receive. And, in 
 all cases of exportation to foreign countries, and sometimes in 
 our own country, there are additional transits. Thus, our agri- 
 cultural producers mainly support our railroads and freight 
 steamboats. They support our mercantile establishments ; the 
 factors, the clerks, the porters, and the carmen. They, in fact, 
 support the landlords, in paying rent ; and, not less, the masons 
 and carpenters who erect city buildings — the street pavers and 
 the street cleaners — together with the various incumbents of 
 office in the city government ; for, were it not for the agricul- 
 tural producers, but few of these things would be needed ; not, 
 indeed, as charities, but as fair business remunerations ; giving 
 regular employment to all having agency therein. 
 
 The magnitude of the agricultural interests of a country de- 
 mand the paternal supervision of its government, as well as the 
 respectful consideration of all its citizens. In our own country 
 it is passing strange that our government has so little realized a 
 feeling of corresponding responsibility. What has our govern- 
 ment ever done to stimulate its yeomanry to the most enlight- 
 ened and efficient means for rendering agriculture honorable and 
 profitable ? Has it held out inducements to open new sources 
 
 An envious man waxes lean with the fatness of his neighbor. 
 
terrible and destructive than on the ocean. Occasionally amidst 
 
 90 AGRICULTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 a 
 
 bo 
 
 .3 
 
 
 of profit, or even to secure in the greatest perfection those al- 
 ready opened ? Has it spread over our wide domain, as it were 
 broadcast, the illuminations of science relating to this subject ? 
 It might easily have sent scientific treatises to every farm-house 
 in our land, save those who make them. And how easy it 
 would be for our national vessels, every now and then, to return 
 home freighted with improved breeds of farm animals, to be gra- 
 tuitously placed on model farms, wherever established in connec- 
 tion with our colleges, or other endowed and incorporated insti- 
 tutions ; the produce of these animals held within the reach of 
 small operators as well as of the rich. Such a paternal agency 
 in our national government would raise American agriculture to 
 its proper elevation ; rendering it vastly more lucrative than it 
 now is ; and in addition to the benefits conferred on individuals, 
 adding much to our national wealth, independence, and aggran- 
 dizement. 
 
 To secure an end of such utility to the increased prosperity 
 of the country, there should be at Washington, in the national 
 government, a Bureau or Department of Agriculture in all its 
 ramifications. It should be for the benefit of the people — the 
 citizens of the whole country, and for nothing else. Compared 
 with such a department, of little consequence to the masses of 
 the people are the naval and army departments. Where these 
 benefit one person, the other would enrich hundreds. Why 
 not have it ? If the people pay for it, have they not a right to it ? 
 Besides, in' its results it would pay for itself a hundred, perhaps 
 a thousand times over, in the augmented agricultural resources 
 of the country. Nor is this all : it would lead to the develop- 
 ment of intellect — to the elevation of social character in rural 
 life. Has not this already been done, to a limited extent, by 
 our local agricultural institutions ? Most assuredly it has. Do 
 the tens of thousands that annually attend the Fairs of the Amer- 
 ican Institute receive no social elevation, in addition to a partici- 
 pation in the more legitimate benefits for which it was prima- 
 rily designed ? Do they learn nothing of life, and manners, and 
 of the world, by meeting those of all the various grades of hu- 
 manity on these occasions? Do they not almost instinctively 
 learn to sympathize with those inferior to themselves, and to 
 assimilate to those superior to themselves ? To avoid the errors 
 of the more ignorant, and to become wiser, on thus beholding 
 the more enlightened, in a tenfold ratio ? If the general govern- 
 ment of the country Were to carry out the proposed suggestion, 
 the benefit would be to the cost in a hundred-fold ratio. 
 
 Oh grant me thus to live, and thus to die 1 
 
 Who spring from kings shall know less joy than I. 
 
 One foolish act may ruin a man, and a timely one make bis fortune. 
 
look into it for two purposes — to avail himself of those inatr u- 
 
 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 
 This is my own, my native land ! 
 Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
 As home his footsteps he hath turned, 
 
 From wandering on some distant strand 1 
 
 Farmers, in reality, all belong to the same school in politics. 
 Their interests are all the same ; and, of course, in reference to 
 the principles of government, when properly enlightened, there 
 will be no difference of opinion. The object of all government 
 sliould be to protect the citizens in the enjoyment of personal 
 liberty, property, and the benefits of their labor. For other 
 purposes, civil goveinment is ordinarily of no value ; certainly 
 of none in our country. It is required for nothing else. For 
 what else is it wanted ? Not, surely, to create a class of privi- 
 leged individuals. Not to display national gewgaws. The ap- 
 pointment of persons to administer civil government, giving 
 them salaries for their support, is mei-ely an incident, and not 
 the end of civil government. Precisely the same as it is with 
 the farmer who has one thousand acres to be cultivated, which 
 obliges him to employ, year after year, ten laborers. Here, the 
 cultivation is the end, and the employment of these laborers, 
 and the wages paid them, by which they support their families, 
 is an incident. If the lands would produce well without culti- 
 vation, or if the laborers failed to make them produce fair 
 crops, he could not be expected to employ them. They, having 
 no demands upon him, would have to seek means for support 
 elsewhere. So in civil institutions, if our property, and liberty, 
 and labor, derive no aid from them, we may be as well without 
 government as with it ; and if our property is jeopardized, and 
 the profits of our labor are sacrificed by civil government, we 
 had better have no government at all. 
 
 True, it is possible, and indeed probable, that in a large 
 community, the interests of all may not be the same. Where 
 this happens, the interests of the country as a whole, or of the 
 majority, is to be regarded. It is usually for the interest of 
 professed politicians to be kept in office ; but, if they are un- 
 faithful, it is not for the interests of their constituents to keep 
 
 a. 
 
 Your looking-glass will tell you what none of your friends will. 
 
birds of paradise, and others, which as yet are without a 
 
 ^ 
 
 92 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 them there. Of course, although an evil to the office-holders 
 themselves to be oast off, the good of the masses of the people 
 require it. The instances, it is presumed, are not of rare Occur- 
 rence, that persons, on being elected to offices in the civil gov- 
 ernment, to maintain and advance the interests of the people, 
 direct all their efforts to perpetuate themselves in powef, or to 
 promote the welfare of their own personal friends ; not only 
 by honest and honorable means, but by sacrificing the very 
 interests civil government is designed to secure. Is it never 
 known that the national treasures are completely squandered to 
 secure the influence of unprincipled politicians? Is it never 
 known, that a country is involved in all the horrors and miser- 
 ies of w.ar^thousands of helpless women made widows — thou- 
 sands of children made fatherless — for no other purpose but to 
 produce a kind of popular phrensy in fa,vor of the authors of it ? 
 Let history answer the question ! Let the historic scroll of past 
 ages be unrolled, and there will be seen a frightfully long cata- 
 logue of human woes, perpetrated by this legalized corruption 
 and shameless villany ! 
 
 Nor is this the only case of variance among the interests of 
 the community. It may sometimes be found among the pro- 
 ducing classes. Suppose there are, in this country, ten thou- 
 sand persons, who live by shoeing horses, and know not how 
 to live by any other means. But a large factory for making 
 horse-shoes in England is got up, and an agent is sent to this 
 country to sell them at a rate so reduced, that horses may be 
 shod for seventy-five cents instead of one dollar, the price be- 
 fore paid. The owners of horses avail themselves of the reduc- 
 tion, and join in the conspiracy, if it may be so called, to throw 
 out of business, and ruin these ten thousand smiths. The agent 
 makes large numbers of persons in cities believe that all horse- 
 shoes, hereafter, sllould be imported, notwithstanding the injury 
 to the American artisans. The same process would lead to the 
 same results in regard to American artisans generally — to fac- 
 tories for making all descriptions of American cloth, cutlery, 
 hollow iron ware, farming implements, men's and women's shoes, 
 clothing, carriages, saddles and harnesses, , and indeed to all 
 sorts of articles used in society. Yes, by such agents, a feeling 
 may be produced extensively in the community, that all these 
 should come from abroad, if sold at a less price than heretofore 
 paid ; not realizing that, as soon as all American artisans are 
 ruined and driven from the country, the prices of manufactured 
 articles would advance to former rates. 
 
 The same results might be effected, too, in regard to certain 
 agricultural products. By similar foreign combinations of capi- 
 
 He that has good health is young, and he is rich who owes nothipg. 
 
those three important advantases ofiealth, yOuth, and riches could 
 
 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 93 
 
 ■3 
 
 u 
 
 V. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 "3 
 
 1 
 
 a 
 
 s 
 
 ■ S 
 
 I 
 
 tal and labor, the production of American cotton, our great 
 staple, may be ruined. And if otter countries are to produce 
 all the breadstuffs needed for their own consumption, can we 
 ejcpect that our surplus of them could go thither ? And, more- 
 over, if they, at any time, produce more than needed for their 
 own consumption, might not the balance find its way to this 
 country, still further to injure our own producers ? Have wheat 
 and other grains never come to us adross the ocean ? This ques- 
 tion is easily answered ; and this whole subject is worthy, es- 
 pecially, the attention of our agriculturists, because they, in 
 reality, are the whole country. In other words, their interests 
 are .paramount to all other interests combined ; and, numeri- 
 cally, they may control the government, being at least three- 
 fourths of the whole population. 
 
 It is important, therefore, that farmers should realize the 
 position they hold ; that they should understand their own 
 strength ; and, that they should clearly and fully comprehend 
 the nature of the subjects to which allusion is now simply made. 
 Hereafter, the welfare of the agricultural community — indeed, 
 of the whole country, will depend on their understanding it. 
 Of but little consequence is it whether men in poHtical office 
 are Whigs or Democrats — Federalists or Republicans ; but it 
 is of vast importance whether they are honest or dishonest men 
 — whether they are enlightened statesmen, or a parcel of igno- 
 rant, brawling politicians — whether they occupy their places as 
 the guardians of the national weal, or as the selfish and unprin- 
 cipled panders of their own individual welfare. And it is, too, 
 a respect which farmers owe themselves, that they receive 
 instructions on these matters, not from one class of politicians 
 or from another class — not from political partisan newspapers 
 of either side ; but, that they, as men of sense, study the sub- 
 ject as honest Christians study the Bible — to find out the truth, 
 whatever it may be ; to be governed by it, however different its 
 teachings from previous conceptions or prejudices. 
 
 The doctrines of the able and honest politician are based 
 upon the text-books of political economy ; not, indeed, every 
 book, with that cognomen on its title-page ; for many of these 
 books are got up to deceive the superficial ; but upon text- 
 books containing sound principles of philosophy and common 
 sense, which are much the same thing. And every citizen, 
 moreover, in the exercise of his political franchise, should be 
 guided by this same infallible criterion of political truth. The 
 limits of this volume allow me not to give you any instruction 
 upon the matters involved in the subject here presented. Most 
 men of sense, without books — without aid from others, may 
 
 He that has one sheep in the flock, will like all the others the better for it. 
 
thinks himself the wisest, is generally the greatest fool. Posthu- 
 
 94 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 understand the principles of it as well as the most learned pro- 
 fessors in college halls, if they will sufficiently apply themselves 
 to it. You may not, indeed, be able to calculate an eclipse 
 without a knowledge of mathematics ; but this subject you may 
 fully understand without the aid of mathematics, or natural 
 philosophy, or chemistry, or of the dead languages. 
 
 What is said above relates to national politics. I will 
 add a few paragraphs relating to Ibcal politics. Here, the 
 sphere is more limited, and of course its area is more readily 
 surveyed. No telescopic powers are required to bring into 
 view the objects to be inspected. Your own unassisted organs 
 of vision, if I may use the figure, are quite sufficient to your 
 purpose. I allude, particularly, to what, in popular language, 
 is termed internal irapi-ovements, the philosophy of which has 
 not been duly considered. The; community has seemingly looked 
 upon them with incredible apathy. Instances have not been 
 few, where there have been obstacles thrown in their way, as 
 if the country were to be ruined by them. And, they have 
 been mainly viewed in reference to the stock-owners, as sources 
 of unnatural wealth. Or, if canals and railroads were to be 
 tolerated among the yeomanry of a country, they must be 
 located in the immediate vicinity of every man's own door ; or 
 they were to be execrated and condemned. 
 
 Canals and railroads may now and then be found first-rate 
 investments. Ordinarily, they are not. Hence, nothing is now 
 said of them as investments. This is a matter for individual 
 capitalists to investigate. The yeomanry and the business men 
 of a country are to look upon them principally as the agents 
 for developing and promoting the individual and combined 
 wealth connected with, or located in the districts affected by 
 them. Hence, a state or a populous city, in establishing them, 
 may be comparatively indifferent about the per centage annually 
 to be received upon their cost. If the locations are judicious, 
 it is of minor importance if nothing is received. 
 
 I will illustrate my meaning by a familiar case, readily under- 
 stood by agriculturists. Here is an individual owning a farm 
 of two hundred acres of excellent land. A broad river, with- 
 out a bridge, runs through the centre of it. The land was be- 
 queathed to him on the condition that he should never sell or 
 lease any part of it, but cultivate the whole as one farm. His 
 house and outbuildings are on one side of the river ; and, to get 
 at the other side, for every day's work, or for every load of 
 manure put on it, or every load of produce to be returned, he 
 has to go a distance of five miles ; ten miles both ways, which 
 takes Up one half of an entire day. NoWj is it not apparent 
 
 Men only blame themselves for the purpose of being praised by others. 
 
atmosphere -will obscure the brightness of the finest gold ; but, 
 
 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 95 
 
 ^ 
 
 that it costs the owner double to cultivate that portion of his 
 farm beyond the river that it does the other ? Hence, if the lat- 
 ter is worth one hundred dollars per acre, the other cannot be 
 worth above fifty dollars an acre. Now, if a bridge were made 
 across the river, connecting the two portions of the farm to- 
 gether, it is evident that the one beyond the river would be 
 doubled in value ; that is, that hundred acres will at once be 
 worth one hundred dollars per acre instead of fifLj% as it was 
 before. The bridge, therefore, to this farmer is really wortli 
 five thousand dollars. Here is exhibited the operation of rail- 
 roads and canals. 
 
 I will now suppose an individual, with a valuable farm in the 
 south portion of the State of New York, and two hundred miles 
 from the city of New York. The farm is fertile, and produces 
 most abundantly — perhaps four times as much as needed for 
 consumption on it ; but so far from any market, nothing could 
 be sold from it. This farm, in the immediate neighborhood of 
 the city of New York, would be worth two hundred dollars per 
 acre; but, remote as it is, it has been estimated at no more 
 than fifty or seventy-five dollars per acre. Yet the moment tlie 
 Erie Railroad is completed it becomes worth, at least, one hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars per acre, inasmuch as all its surplus prod- 
 uce can be carried to market, as conveniently and as cheap as 
 though it were only fifteen or twenty miles from the city, and no 
 railroad. Thus, under corresponding circumstances, all prop- 
 erty upon or adjacent to a good railroad or canal rises in value, 
 perhaps, even more than to balance the amount of outlay for 
 tlie improvement. 
 
 Wliy is it that in the northern part of the State of New Yoi'k 
 cities and villages have arisen, and wealth has been created, as 
 if under the influence of magic. It is because of the Erie Canal. 
 So hereafter cities and villages will arise, and wealth will be 
 created in the south part of the State, on the completion of the 
 Erie Riiilroad. So it would be everywhere under analogous aus- 
 pices. Farmers, therefore, should not fail to encourage inter- 
 nal improvements. Choose men in 3'our state and national leg- 
 islatures who will vote for them. No matter whether they are 
 near you or remote. No matter if they pass through the 
 centres of your farms, obliging you to make miles of additional 
 fence. You will be paid for it over and over again, no one 
 can tell how many times. No matter, if they are ten, fifteen, 
 or twenty miles from you, the life-giving impulse to business 
 will be felt by you. Every one cannot be equally near to them. 
 To a community, good roads, good bridges, and railroads or 
 canals, are the same as good fences and fertile fields are to a 
 
 Little boats must keep near shore ; large vessels may venture more. 
 
of profligates and gamblers. Once secure the love of good 
 
 95 POLITICAL HINTS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 single farm. Here is a rational foundation for politics, ■whether 
 exerted for the state or the general government. Viewed in 
 reference to such an end, the elective franchise is of inestimable 
 worth ; whereas exerted only for the benefit of demagogues and 
 poverty-stricken politicians, it is of no essential value. 
 
 There is not a spot in the wide-peopled earth 
 So dear to the heart as the land of our birth : 
 'Tia the home of our childhood | the beautiful spot 
 Which mem'rj retains when all else is forgot. 
 Can the language of strangers, in accents unknown, 
 Send a thrill to our bosom like that of our own ? 
 
 ^ The face may be fair, and the smile may be bland, 
 
 - ■§ But it breathes not the tones of our dear native land. 
 
 How sweet is the language which taught us to blend 
 The dear name of parent, of husband and friend ! 
 
 "§ Which taught us to lisp on our mother's soft breast 
 
 ,Q The ballads she sung as she rocked us to rest. 
 
 May the blessings of God 
 Ever hallow the sod. 
 And its valleys and hills by our children be trod ! 
 
 5P 
 
 a. 
 
 Drunkenness is a pair of spectacles to see the devil and all his works. 
 
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 well laid out. He that spends two furtunes, and, not profit- 
 
 HINTS ON THE PEESERVATION OF HEALTH. 
 
 Like leaves on trees the race of man is found. 
 
 Now green in youth, now withering on the ground. 
 
 Another race the following Spring supplies, 
 
 They fall successive, and successive rise : 
 
 So generations in their course decay, 
 
 So flourish these when those are pass'd away. 
 
 If there is any one thing in human economy of more impor- 
 tance than everything else, it is the preservation of health. To 
 agriculturists, this is especially true. For without health they 
 cannot pursue their accustomed labors. These labors require 
 unceasing vigor. An invalid in a farmer's house is a kind of 
 paralysis on the whole household, imparting, also, to the imme- 
 diate neighborhood, a tendency to inactivity. Again, they have 
 not, generally, within a few rods, as in cities, a physician, that 
 can be called in for advice on such occasions. A day, or half 
 a day is broken up, in order to secure his services. This, too, 
 is to be repeated at each visit, unless arranged for regular pe- 
 riodical visits indefinitely. Nor is this the entire evil. When 
 a physician is obliged to go several miles, using a horse and 
 carriage, it occasions' an expense which the majority of farmers 
 will find very burdensome. Indeed, it seldom happens that a 
 farmer will prosper in his means, if visited with severe and 
 protracted sickness. Medical attendance, and the cash paid for 
 medical prescriptions during half a year, will often create a 
 burden requiring the labors of years to remove it. 
 
 Notwithstanding such is the value of health, and so impres- 
 sively are we admonished to preserve it, the fact is a grievous 
 one, that too often is it treated as of no value, or as if we had 
 no control over it. The truth is undeniable, that there is, gen- 
 erally, especially with young persons, a wanton and unneces- 
 sary exposure to influences of the worst kind. They will 
 encounter transitions of the atmosphere that might endanger the 
 safety of a ship on the ocean. They will load their stomachs 
 with an indigestible burden that might kill an elephant. They 
 will distort their natural and comely physical proportions, so as 
 
 cm 
 
 5 
 Si I 
 
 ComplimeDts cost nothing, but many people pay dearly for them. 
 
wUl not insult us with his comments : but with relations, it mostly 
 
 98 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH. 
 
 to resemble the tree that forces its growth between the parts 
 of a Assured mountain ledge. And the conclusion is nearly 
 irresistible, that they imagine there is an uncontrolled destiny 
 on the subject of health, not to be disturbed by any terrestrial 
 agency. To me it seems as unnecessary to argue upon the 
 value of health, as to argue upon the value of the light of day. 
 It is one of those impressive realities that require no confirma- 
 tion — no elucidation ; constantly cherished by our most famil- 
 iar and active instincts. 
 
 That to an uncontrollable destiny alone we are to look for 
 all revelations touching the subject of health, is a pernicious 
 heresy never to be indulged. It is by no means intimated that we 
 may infallibly, under all circumstances, effectually guard against 
 the approach and the ravages of disease ; that we njay ever be 
 able to say with unwavering assurance, hitherto shalt thou come, 
 and no farther ! This would be the climax of irreverence ! We 
 might as well say it to the ocean's rolling billow ; to the raging 
 tempest ; and to the lightning's terrific flash ! At all times, 
 and under all circumstances, should we realize that we are as 
 the mere dust of the balance ; that we live, and breathe.^and 
 move in the strength of that great Being who controls every- 
 thing on earth as well as in heaven. There is no incongruity 
 between the most unreserved and filial dependence on Provi- 
 dence for eflncacy in all the labors we perform, and the most 
 rigid supervision and care, on our part, of the talents and gifts 
 committed to us. We may labor with the utmost vigilance to 
 improve our intellect, to preserve our health, and to enlarge the 
 capacity of our physical organization, and still,, with childlike 
 submission, look to Him in faith and hope, who alone is able to 
 impart a crowning energy to human exertion. 
 
 There are, nevertheless, established principles applicable to 
 the preservation of health and human life, as well as for the 
 accomplishment of vegetable growth and perfection. If we 
 neglect a suitable vegetable culture — if we locate a plant in the 
 dark when it should be in the sun's rayg, exposed to violent 
 winds when it should be protected ; if we give it one kind of 
 aliment when it requires a different kind ; or if we give none ; 
 the consequences are apparent ; the plant will be feeble and 
 sickly, and will never reach maturity. So, likewise, if we be- 
 stow no adequate regard upon the rearing of farm aijimals ; to 
 their growth, their health, and the development of their organ- 
 ic powers, the ox and the horse will never attain to the amount 
 of physical energy for which they were designed. They will be 
 feeble, and puny, and sickly. Such, likewise, will be the result, 
 under a similar neglect, in regard to human health and vigor. 
 
 He who is to consider of a request, takes time to deny you bandsomelv 
 
■which counteracts the decay of human institutions — the courage 
 
 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH. 99 
 
 .-2 
 
 
 The ■works of man are frequently found to be defective. 
 His schemes are frequently found to embody incongruities, if not 
 patadoXes. He aspifes at an object without being able to de- 
 vise the means for reaching it ; the same as if he were to con- 
 struct wings with which to rise and gather fruit from a high 
 tree, but on making the effort, discovers that his muscular 
 power is not sufficient to operate them. So it is with him in a 
 thousand things. Bat not so is it in the divine economy. The 
 works of the Deity are all perfect. In his purposes there is no 
 defect. All his creatures are endowed with constitutions and 
 attributes rendering them fit for the ends they were to accom- 
 plish^ To suppose it a law of his universal dominion, that his 
 creatures, whether vegetables or animals, and especially man, 
 is naturally sickly and incapable of answertng the end of his exist- 
 ence, is an imputation — a slander on his wisdom and goodness. 
 True, if man is subjected to meteorological exposures not en- 
 dured by the brute, or made to perform labors requiring the 
 strength of a horse, he will, of 'course, be found insufficient for 
 the crisis. But this is not a defect in his organization ; it is a 
 perversion o'f the laws of G-od regarding him. And, ordinarily, 
 if CTckness and death destroy our race in the several stages from 
 infancy to the ordained limit of human existence, the cause is 
 neglect, mismanagement, and perversion of God''s ordinance. 
 
 Ail animals, man as well as the rest, enter upon the career 
 of life more or less dependent on foreign agents for protection 
 and support ; reaching maturity at longer or shorter periods of 
 time ; and especially at different limits exhausting the powers 
 of continued vitality, and thence returning to their native dust. 
 The physiological nature of each is adapted to this regimen. 
 Hence, we say, that man too is ordained to be healthy — that 
 good health is his natural state ; and, if in infancy he is sickly, 
 it is the result of present mismanagement or ailments received 
 by transmission from his parents ; and, in subsequent periods, it 
 is the resuU of unskillful or imprudent supervision of his welfare. 
 We can draw no other cowclssion. It is not said, tbat every 
 parent is guilty in the case of the sickness and death of children. 
 The parent may not have had the means of exercising due care 
 in preventing it. The cause may be referred to ignorance ; or 
 to defects in our social organizations ; or to errors in the con- 
 ventional usages of the age. Man does not fail to live only 
 about half of his allotted age, in consequence of any supreme 
 destiny thus abridging his days. No ; the stream of his life is 
 designed to be gentle and constantly advancing to the great 
 ocean of being from which its germ was at first received. If it 
 passes over cataracts — if its waters bubble, and swell, and foam. 
 
 Some reproaches are a commendation, and some praises detraction. 
 
they censure. The rest, says Poor Richard, say and 
 
 a 
 p. 
 
 3 
 
 100 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH. 
 
 and break over its natural barriers, be assured the Bxciting im- 
 pulses were men's own disordered passion. If the bark of life 
 reel, and totter, and founder, be assured it is because the helm 
 is not properly regulated ; if the crew are submerged, it is be- 
 cause, instead of gently pursuing their destined voyage, watch- 
 ing the appearance of shallows, and opposing obstacles, they 
 slumbered upon their approach, or wantonly sported and frol- 
 icked with an element whose power they found themselves 
 unable to control. 
 
 There is in the community a vast deal of bad taste evinced 
 in connection with this subject, as well as of ignorance and heed- 
 lessness. A false and ridiculous pride carries thousands pre- 
 maturely to the grave. And multitudes, now slumbering there, 
 would be rejoicing in the bright sunshine of life, had they not 
 yielded themselves to, or become the victims of folly and vitiated 
 sensibility. It scarcely need be said in this place, that among 
 the means of promoting healthy constitutions in children, is the 
 habit of training them to muscular exercise. Without this, 
 their physical energies will never acquire a full development ; 
 and, to a considerable extent, there will be a corresponding 
 mental debility, if not imbecility. This physical education or 
 training is best accomplished by regular habits, at least for a 
 limited period every day, of manual labor. Rarely is any other 
 exercise beneficial like this. At the same time it furnishes occa- 
 sion for mental expansion. The body and the mind reciprocally 
 exert on each other a healthful action. Whereas a bodily exer- 
 cise, requiring no enlargement of thought, is mechanical and 
 dull, producing none of the excitement which gives expression 
 to the eye and brilliancy to the imagination. 
 
 From such a training we may expect a full stature ; well- 
 formed limbs ; elasticity and vigor of movement ; a sparkling 
 eye ; and a ruddy complexion. A healthful fragrance fills the 
 surrounding atmosphere. The very walls of a habitation, with 
 such tenants, reflect and re-reflect, in ten thousand directions, a 
 beaming intelligence, denoting an inward divinity. In such ex- 
 hibitions of humanity, with a pure conscience, no one need feel 
 degradation J no one need feel ashamed of his species. Such 
 results are as necessary for females as for males. They are as 
 graceful for the former as for the latter. If possible, more so ! 
 For a healthy, well-formed, blooming, intelligent, virtuous 
 woman, is the crowning attribute in creative perfection ; and, 
 as she was the last in order, when the morning stars shouted in 
 ecstatic melody, that all was very good ; so she may be the first, 
 in our estimation, when surveying that grand exhibition of ter- 
 restrial beauty and glory. But on the other hand, if she is fee- 
 
 He that would eat the kernel, must not complain of cracking the nut. 
 
and better for haviag lived in it. If yon would not "be forgot- 
 
 1 
 5 
 
 S 
 
 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH. 101 
 
 ble in mind, deformed in physical organization, pale, emaciated, 
 and ghostlike in person, she becomes an object of pity, and if 
 without virtue, of disgust ! 
 
 We would not, indeed, see woman made a slave. We would 
 not see her doomed to a life of menial service, for which she 
 was not designed, and for which her distinctive attributes are 
 not adapted ! Far from it ! In cities, we would not allow her 
 to be a stevedore, a woodsawyer, a teamster, a porter, or a ma- 
 son tender. In the country, we would not allow her to hold 
 the plough, to chop wood, to shovel manure, or to wield the 
 scythe. These are masculine occupations, to be filled with the 
 other sex. But we maintain, that there are labors appropriate 
 for her to perform. These labors are mainly in the dwelling- 
 place of the family — about the fireside, in culinary economy ; 
 and, in the parlor, as in the days of Solomon, with diverse 
 kinds of needle-work. To these she should be educated ; in 
 these she should be habitually exercised, whether in the country 
 or the city. Here it should be her pride and her delight to ad- 
 minister comfort to all around her. And, if so, she will be the 
 idol of the family — the household oracle, from which all will re- 
 ceive instruction, and under whose dominion each will be emu- 
 lous to yield a ready submission and homage. 
 
 But the woman with false notions and a vitiated taste, who is 
 fearful she may not be thought genteel, or a lady, both for her- 
 self and her daughters, shrinks from the idea of this healthful 
 aspect, and of course from the means that lead to it. With 
 her, a delicate, pale, and sickly appearance, with consequent 
 bodily weakness, is more than paramount to such a condition. 
 She fears that a ruddy complexion will lead to the s"uspicion 
 that she and her daughters occasionally occupy themselves 
 about the kitchen fire. If their step is firm and elastic, she 
 fears it is suspected they take gymnastic exercises over the 
 broomstick. And, if their hands are a little tinged with the 
 precipitations of an alkaline fluid, never too abundant in family 
 purifications, she fears they will be suspected of the low and 
 vulgar practice of bending over the wash-tub. Hence, she 
 spurns these useful avocations, and endeavors to make their 
 hands and fingers resemble the skeleton of that human append- 
 age, dipped a few times in melted mutton tallow, after the man- 
 ner of making candles. 
 
 Till women, and men too, divest themselves of all such nonsense, 
 we cannot expect children will grow up healthy. The absurdi- 
 ties which prevail on this subject are truly monstrous. They 
 threaten to undermine the foundations on which all our hopes 
 for prosperity and happiness are built. If their dominion is ex- j 
 
 If you have too many irons in the fire, some of tbem will burn. 
 
is, even for its own sake, incapable of inTolving man in misery and 
 
 102 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH, 
 
 ^ 
 
 5 
 
 tended in the same progressive ratio for fifty years to come, as 
 it has been extended in the past fifty years, who can predict the 
 future condition of society ? True, these animadversions apply 
 perhaps less to the country than to the city, where it is no un- 
 common thing for the wives and daughters of mechanics, not 
 able to purchase a week's provision in advance ; and of mer- 
 chants, as they are called, not able in reality to pay fifty cents 
 on a dollar of what they owe, to be frightened at the idea of 
 being suspected of ever having done a really useful thing, or 
 even having saved their husbands the necessity of paying out a 
 few dollars for making those confidential articles of linen 
 apparel adapted to both genders of the family. But while 
 there is more occasion in the city than in the country for these 
 strictures, a propensity for this spurious kind of gentility, like 
 fashions in dress, is epidemic. 'Not a few in the country strive 
 to mimic the small potato gentry of the city. 
 
 Besides a physical discipline for the preservation of health, 
 there must be frequent ablutions, in the country especially, for 
 persons of all ages. There, without respect of age or sex, being 
 exposed to dust, persons will have the pores of the skin so filled 
 as to prevent free perspiration, so necessary for health, unless 
 clean water precautions are of frequent application. Children 
 in the country will habitually become soiled, if not imbued with 
 dirt. Hence, they must have as frequent cleansings, for* de- 
 cency as well as for health. As a general thing, a tub of 
 water properly applied is better than a dose of medicine. In- 
 deed, if proper attention be paid to exercise, to food, and to 
 cleanliness, medicine will be rarely needed. Nature, if nol; 
 abused, is usually capable of Sustaining herself. She furnishes 
 her own antidotes to disease. She possesses attributes that 
 will redeem her from her own incidental infirmities. 
 
 And, as equally important, there should be regard to diet. 
 To preserve health and vigor in adult persons, it is a matter of 
 common sense, confirmed by experience, that an ample supply 
 of nutritious food is necessary. Without it a healthy condition 
 cannot be maintained; and much less an ability to perform 
 labor. Nor is it sufficient that the quantity be ample. It 
 should be of a proper description. It should be well cooked j 
 or it will in a measure fail to answer the intended purpose. Bad 
 cookery will sometimes render almost worthless prime articles 
 of provisions. On the Other hand, the good housewife, by her 
 skill, may manage so as to render inferior articles savory and 
 palatable. It is not usually realized how much, in good livinf, 
 depends on her. The various modes, for instance, in which she 
 will prepare, on different occasions, a piece of beef, nearly equal 
 
 If misfortunes Snake ns wise, tlidj recompense us for our losses. 
 
benevolence, meditating in what manner he might render him- 
 
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 HINTS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH. 103 
 
 the different presentations of the same object in a kaleido- 
 scope. 
 
 It sometimes happens that farmers will sell their best arti- 
 cles, and retain for their own consumption the poorer ones. 
 This is a most degrading practice to them. None but the stern- 
 est necessity should drive them to it. If any class of persons 
 merit good living — the best that is produced on a farm — it is 
 themselves ; for they were the producers. And, if they imagine 
 their labor more severe than that of other occupations, it may 
 be considered an equivalent that they take the best for them- 
 selves, allowing the remainder for those who labor less. For 
 the due preparation of the food tlie female members of the fam- 
 ily are, and should be, responsible. If they neglect this duty ; 
 if they fail habitually to provide in season, and in a manner, ac- 
 cording to their best ability, when provisions are on hand, therd 
 is no apology for them. 
 
 The regimen of diet here set forth is especially important jor 
 children. The above suggestions apply to them in a fourfold 
 degree. Their growth is to be effected ; their animal functions 
 are to be matured. With them not simply an attained stature 
 is to be maintained, but it is to be increased till it reaches tnat 
 of adult years. Care should be exercised that this increase 
 should not be precocious. If too much food is given, or that of 
 an improper kind, the end will be defeated. While meat may 
 be adapted to the animal functions of laboring men, and in 
 small quantities to adults generally, milk is the designated food 
 for infancy. It is presumed that tlie digestive organs of the in- 
 fant are adapted to food derived from the mother's breast, or 
 to food of an analogous character. Such organs would no more 
 digest rich pastry, dried fruit, or smoked bacon, than, in making 
 soap, water would dissolve grease. In both cases the sub- 
 stances would remain unchanged. And while in the lattei case 
 no evil would arise, in the former the evil might be serious ; for 
 a mass of such indigestible food in the stomach would naturally 
 produce disease. To gradually change food, as children ad- 
 vance in age, adapting it to their progressive powers of diges- 
 tion, is by no means done by unskillful hands. It requires great 
 judgment. It requires a constant habit of observation. Indeed, 
 the mother should in reality be a true philosopher. 
 
 Most persons pay some regard, at least, to the preservation 
 of hfe and health. They would shudder at the very possibility 
 of taking into the stomach an amount of mineral poison suffi- 
 cient to cause death. They would neither cast themselves or 
 their children into a caldron of boiling liquid. ^ And they would 
 not hesitate to fly with the utmost velocity from the opening 
 
 Fortune often makes a feast, and then takes away tVie appetite. 
 
■when they are such as he cannot help. Were this thoroughly 
 
 
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 104 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 jaws of the lion, or the tumbling fragments of a burning edifice. 
 Here they would act rationally and with appropriate decision. 
 If they were not to do so, they would be pronounced insane or 
 accessories in crime. Yet many, who would do this, in minor 
 exigencies act with no such wisdom. How many, who would 
 shudder at giving their children arsenic, to produce immediate 
 dissolution, will in the course of time, in small parcels, deal out 
 to them other poisons, if given all at once, to produce, if possi- 
 ble, death ten times over ; who would shudder at the thought 
 of burying their naked children under freezing snows, yet per- 
 mit their exposure to smaller hazards of the same character, for 
 years and years, till the hectic, which always, with an unerr- 
 ing purpose, carries its victims to the grave, is fastened upon 
 them ! 
 
 Oh, that men should put an enemy into 
 Their mouths to steal away their brains ! that we 
 Should, with joy, pleasance, rerel, and applause. 
 Transform ourselves to beasts I 
 
 LIABILITY OF LABOREES TO 
 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 He comes not — I have watched the moon go down, 
 But yet he comes not. Once it was not so. 
 He thinks not bow these bitter tears do flow, 
 The while he holds bis riot in the town. 
 Yet he will come, and chide, and I shall weep ; 
 And he will wake my infant from its sleep. 
 To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. 
 Oh ! how I love a mother's watch to keep. 
 Over those sleeping eyes, that smile, which cheers 
 My heart, though sunk in sorrow, fixed and deep. 
 
 Within the recollection of maDy persons living, it was a cus- 
 tom to provide laboring men, daily, on the farm, at a given 
 hour, especially in seasons of severe toil, a dram, as it was 
 called, with as much regularity as to provide a dinner. They 
 
 
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 He that knows not when to be silent, knows not when to speak. 
 
after more riches ; the other, the prospect of leaving what he 
 
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 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 105 
 
 would have been as much dissatisfied without the former as with- 
 out the latter. A neglect would have been disreputable. And 
 there was no dream of evil arising from it. The enlire commu- 
 nity, with one exception, acquiesced in it. All thought it neces- 
 sary and right. The soldier and marine, too, had their daily al- 
 lowatice of rum, under the sanction of the supreme government, 
 iQ fair weather as well as in foul — when unemployed r.s when on 
 duty. So it was with the sailor on board our merchant ships, 
 and often in the machine shop. Even the tailor and the shoe- 
 maker were not known to be teetotalers. The hour of eleven 
 o'clock was anticipated with as much precision and ardor as the 
 hour of meeting with fond lovers. At this particular juncture, 
 over our broad land, the fumes of alcohol might be supposed to 
 have arisen in poisonous exhalations, and to have impregnated 
 the whole atmosphere with the elements of death. 
 
 Where, it might be asked, in all this season, were our pure- 
 minded and ever-watchful better selves — habitually so fearful 
 of the inroads of vice, that they always cast a glance upon the 
 very shadows of coming, yet unseen, realities ? Did they give 
 any warning voice ? Did they utter any fervent entreaties to 
 make a pause ? And .where, too, were our spiritual fathers and 
 their lay-coadjutors, the ruling elders and deacons in the Lord's 
 vineyard ? Did they not give the alarm ? Did they not scent 
 the polluting vapors ? On the watch-towers, as they were, did 
 they not discover the gathering tempest — not even in the dis- 
 tant horizon a little cloud rising, in size like the hand of a man ? 
 No, alas ! with a few exceptions ! During all this season, all 
 these together, perhaps in the parlors and about the sideboards 
 of the former, in cheerful converse, with glasses of the same 
 beverage, were drinking health to each other ! This is no fic- 
 tion. And it was thought innocent and commendable. Thus 
 the mass of the people slumbered till we literally had become a 
 generation of drunkards ! What a panic succeeded ! Well 
 there might have been ; for the desolation was not confined to 
 the cabins of the poor, or within the pale of the outcasts of so- 
 ciety ! Far from it! Here an elder son, well educated and 
 full of delightful promise to doting parents, seals his own des- 
 tiny, in becoming a wandering vagabond ! There, the hitherto 
 kind and indulgent husband becomes a brute to an affectionate 
 and confiding wife, who, as if smitten by an elaetrio shock, 
 drops into the cold grave ! And there, also, the prosperous 
 merchant becomes unfit for business, and his estate is closed in 
 bankruptcy ! Nor was this all ; here and there judicial robes 
 were thus defiled — so was the surplice of the altar — and so was 
 the sombre attire of the pulpit ! 
 
 B 
 
 Avoid carefully the first ill or mischief, for that will breed a hundred more. 
 
your fallen enemy. Let no Bhouting, no clamorous huzzaing, 
 
 106 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 J3 
 
 3 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 Then it became apparent that reformation or ruin were the 
 only alternatives. There was a redeeming spirit still existing. 
 Religion had not wholly lost its regenerating power. A feeling 
 of self-respect, too, arose in the majesty of its strength. It did 
 not require much time to make an election between the two. 
 Temperance societies sprung up like mushrooms. The pulpit, 
 as under galvanic influence, sounded the alarm. A host of 
 itinerant lecturers gave it ten thousand echoes. The results 
 have been glorious, but not complete. To a good degree both 
 the army and the navy have been expurgated from this abomi- 
 nation. So have our merchant ships. Generally, so have our 
 machine shops. And, what is better, with the higher classes 
 of society it has actually become disreputable ; so that, if one 
 from those classes still persists in the loathsome practice, accord- 
 ing to the intimation of the apostle, he is drunken in the night, 
 when he may not be seen. Were he to do it openly, he would 
 be watched with as much suspicion as a pickpocket. 
 
 Nevertheless, the plague is not completely eradicated. True, 
 its ravages are checked ; but, the seeds of it in many places lie 
 concealed, as burning embers are hidden from view by a coat 
 of ashes, yet are capable of being rekindled. In mining dis- 
 tricts, in the more severe kinds of mechanical labor, and espe- 
 cially with common operatives in agriculture, there is a strong 
 tendency to this same vice, under the old delusion of moderate 
 drinking. My endeavors now are to be directed in particular to 
 the latter class of persons — numerous beyond what is generally 
 imagined. It requires no ordinary wisdom to devise the means 
 for a remedy. Absolute individual prohibition to a certain ex- 
 tent will drive the nuisance away ; but to an equal extent it 
 will probably be continued stealthily, and even to a more beastly 
 excess. All I can do is to offer a few hints and suggestions, 
 which, if not adopted, will, I hope, lead to more feasible 
 schemes ; and especially to a systematic reference to the sub- 
 ject in all those who give employment to this class of persons. 
 
 It is not necessary to offer a philosophical argument touching 
 the medicinal influence of intoxicating drinks, when used mod- 
 erately, according to popular phraseology. The fact is estab- 
 lished beyond contradiction, that a moderate use of them vitiates 
 the animal appetite, and usually leads to an immoderate and 
 even ruinous use of them. The exceptions are not so numerous 
 as to effect the argument. They ought, therefore, to be ban- 
 ished from society, as a beverage. If an individual were sure 
 that he could use them without the hazard of an immoderate 
 use, he should still relinquish them for the sake of an example ; 
 for the benefit of others ; the same as the Apostle was willing 
 
 He that unseasonably plays the wise man is a fool. 
 
and doth hazard thy hatred; for there are few men that can 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 .a 
 
 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 107 
 
 to give up the use of meat, when it grieved a weaker brother. 
 Besides, the continuance of the practice may not simply have 
 an unfavorable general itifluence, it may lead his own hired labor- 
 ers, less able, it may be presumed, to reason on the subject as 
 he does, to become drunkards; nay, more, it may lead his own 
 sons, or some of them, to become drunkards. The records of 
 intemperance reveal thousands of such instances. 
 
 The use of them may be continued as a medicine ; but no 
 person having regard to his own family, or respect to his own 
 reputation, or to the interests of the community, should tolerate 
 their existence in his house, or the use of them on his premises, 
 except as a medicine. He should feel himself bound in honor, 
 as a Christian and as a philanthropist, to drive them away ; and, 
 if found existing there, as much implicated as though stolen 
 goods or counterfeit money were concealed. Let such a course 
 become general ; let the whole community as one man adopt it, 
 and the evil will be much circumscribed. No individual, even 
 if alone, ought to shrink from the responsibility of such a posi- 
 tion ; but, if any are timid, and do shrink from it, this united 
 action of the community will, in a measure, relieve individuals 
 in such extremities; individual responsibihty will scarcely be 
 felt, any more than individual cowardice in one forming part of 
 a grand army, when engaged in fierce conflict. This union of 
 the community, in the cause of temperance, will resemble the 
 physical strength of an entire nation, moving forward in a well- 
 arranged phalanx, for the destruction of their enemies. The 
 cases are not dissimilar. The consciousness of a just cause 
 nerves the arm of the patriot, and, under the deafening clangor 
 of arms, and the sound of martial music, leads to conquest and 
 victory. So it may be in the temperance conflict. 
 
 If it were left with me to decide the question, whether an 
 army of veterans invading our coasts, with vengeance and 
 slaughter on their floating banners ; or, half a million distiller- 
 ies scattered over our land, like plague spots, constantly sending 
 upward their odious vapors, were most to be dreaded, the de- 
 cision would be, the latter. It might require blood. It might 
 require treasure to expel the one ; it might cause wives to be- 
 come widows ; it might cause parents to become sonless. But, 
 when banished, our soil would be unpoisoned. The air of 
 heaven floating over it would be healthful and pure. They 
 would leave behind no midnight orgies and carousals, to curse 
 the lone wife and the fond sister, watching f6r the return of an 
 absent brother, night after night, month after month, and 
 year after year, till the grave in kindness receives its victims. 
 Alcohol, in its long train of calamities ; in the unmitigated ago- 
 
 The covetous man is the bailiff, not the master of his own estate. 
 
from Normandy ; and Tvhen asked by some of his officers 
 
 108 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 60 
 
 a 
 
 nies which it calls into existence ; in the living deaths, which, 
 like frightful ghosts, by night and by day, alarm the commu- 
 nity, is far more to be dreaded than bullets and gunpowder ! 
 
 It may be fairly assumed, that, as a general proposition, 
 those who sell intoxicating drinks are far more culpable than 
 those who purchase and use them. The latter, as a class, at 
 the present time, are not so competent to appreciate the evils 
 of the practice. Besides, the latter, so far as they are hired 
 laborers, are comparatively alone in the world. They have few 
 or no conventional interests to be ruined ; they have no families 
 of their own, or neighbors to participate therein. It is not so 
 with the former. Hence it might be asked, if they cherish no 
 fondness for their own children, growing up around them? 
 Have they no regard to the wishes and the welfare of the 
 neighborhood in which they are situated ? Would they hand 
 out to an incendiary a brand of fire, to be applied to his neigh- 
 bor's buildings, for the sake of a few cents ? As well might 
 they do it as to sell rum to his neighbor's sons, or his neighbor's 
 hired men, who, in their paroxysms of drunkenness, would 
 destroy the property they were employed to protect ! 
 
 The common excuse for continuing to sell intoxicating drinks 
 is, that the vender may get a living I That he has been so long 
 in the business that he knows not what else to do I Or, that he 
 sells them to induce a certain class to come and purchase other 
 articles ! What an absurdity 1 What an outrage on decency 
 to offer such an excuse I Suppose the highway robber should 
 give this excuse for his depredations on society ? Suppose the 
 counterfeiter should give this excuse for his stealthy occupation? 
 Suppose a person in every village and district of country were 
 to establish a house, in which to receive and conceal the stolen 
 property of his neighbor, would it be satisfactory to the commu- 
 nity should he offer, in his justification, that his rents and 
 agency were his only means of supporting his family ? Would 
 any of these excuses be recognized as a palliation for the of- 
 fence ? Or, lastly, suppose that there be established in every 
 village and every district of country, it may be within the shadow 
 of the church steeple, houses of ill-fame, to break up families 
 and to decoy away and corrupt young men ; and it be said, in 
 their justification, that they belong to poor widows, who cannot 
 otherwise procure a livelihood ; widows that have been unfor- 
 tunately left poor — or girls that have been vilely seduced and 
 abandoned ! Would all that be satisfactory ? Would that af- 
 ford them toleration ? Would that give them liberty to continue 
 their pollutions on virtue and decency ? God forbid I And 
 yet the reasons given in justification of the latter are more co- 
 
 Nothing is so difficult to bear wisely and reputably as prosperity. 
 
Health lightens the efforts of body and mind. It enables a i 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
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 d 
 
 cS 
 
 ■s 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 s 
 •s. 
 
 3 
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 tt 
 
 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 109 
 
 gent than those given in justification of the former; and the 
 latter, moreover, in the country, are not as mischievous and ex- 
 tensively ruinous as legalized dram-shops. 
 
 But farmers have something else to do. Moral suasion, 
 when judiciously applied, is more eifective than legal enact- 
 ments, or unfeeling denunciation. It is not often that an indi- 
 vidual can be found so far abandoned as not to be reached by 
 gentle argument. Not unfrequently is even the heart of the 
 drunkard w^holly unsusceptible to earnest entreaties. We 
 should reason with the vender of intoxicating drinks, not in the 
 language of harshness and crimination ; but, as we vpould rea- 
 son with a brother, kindly, affectionately, and pathetically ; en- 
 deavoring to convince him of the evil of his vocation, and hence 
 induce him to abandon it. In this labor, we should not forget, 
 that we, in times past, may have tolerated the same practice, 
 and that some of the best men now in the community were 
 once engaged in it. If we duly remember this, we cannot be 
 denunciatory, simply because we are a little in advance of oth- 
 ers in seeing the evil of the practice ; and, especial!}'-, if it may 
 be the fact, that the persons now occupied in the traffic were 
 led to it by our own example, some ten, or fifteen, or twenty 
 years since ; led to it, because of having been told how much 
 others have made by it. Under such circumstances, temper- 
 ance men are to be humble and most kind in manner to those 
 whom they would persuade. 
 
 A similar mode should be adopted, when approaching the 
 drunkard, or the individual likely to become one. If any man 
 or any woman is to be sincerely pitied, surely these persons are. 
 They are by no means ignorant of the degradation to which they 
 reduce themselves. They are by no means ignorant of the agony 
 and ruin they bring upon their families. But, say they, we have 
 had so many disappointments and troubles, the burden of them is 
 insupportable ; we drink, that we may for the time foi-get them ; 
 that for a short season, at least, we may not feel the pressure of 
 this burden. Or they may say, we have such an unconquerable 
 thirst for this drink, we cannot resist the temptation ; it draws 
 us onward, irresistibly, like the charm of a serpent; we well 
 know its poison is fatal, like that of the serpent, yet we cannot 
 resist ; we have no muscular power to turn aside ; and, as the 
 victim of the charmer does not awake to consciousness and the 
 perils of death till within its jaws, so we arouse not from the 
 delusion, ere overwhelmed in disgrace and brutality. Now, are 
 not such persons to share our commiserations ? In remonstrat- 
 ing with them, we ought to be thankful that we are under no 
 
 The true art of making gold is to have a good estate, and spend but little of it. 
 
shows us but one side of the world ; for, as it surrounds us with 
 
 m 
 
 110 LIABILITY OF LABORERS TO INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 similar temptation ; and, if so, surely we shall at least be kind 
 in our endeavors to reform them. 
 
 Again, while endeavoring to reclaim persons of this strong 
 propensity for intoxicating drink, attempts should be made to 
 provide, especially among our laborers, substitutes that will ap- 
 pease thirst. If one thing will not answer, try another and 
 another, till successful. The object to be attained is worthy of 
 persevering effort. In periods of severe toil, when every phys- 
 ical energy is required in work, provide substitutes that will 
 not only appease thirst, but will be palatable, and nutritious, 
 and invigorating. The effort may not in every case be effective ; 
 but, if such endeavors were generally made by those employing 
 laborers, and especially farmers, it is believed much, very much, 
 would be accomplished in promoting temperance ; and at the 
 same time the best feelings will be induced between the reform- 
 ers and those reformed. The latter will consider the former as 
 their best friends and benefactors. 
 
 A few words in this chapter will be added on a kindred sub- 
 ject — a subject not much thought of, but surely one of no small 
 magnitude — intemperance of eating. Laboring men, especially, 
 are liable to eat too freely. Fatigue, and, occasionally, long 
 abstinence, naturally create excessive appetite. The conse- 
 quence is, they eat without reflection, till the stomach is actu- 
 ally overcrowded and overburdened with food. It is a fact 
 which every person ought to know, that the stomach will digest 
 only a given quantity of food. What is called digestion is the 
 conversion of the food received by the stomach into a fluid 
 called chyle, which is immediately carried by vessels for that 
 purpose to the 'blood, and to the different parts of the system, 
 for nourishment. That portion of the food not converted into 
 chyle, for a period, remains in the stomach, giving peculiar 
 painful sensations, as if a stone had been swallowed, and then 
 passes away with other waste matter, doing no more good than 
 though it had at first been cast into the fire. The food of the 
 stomach is digested or dissolved by the agency of another fluid, 
 called gastric juice, analogous in its character and o6Bce to lye 
 in making common soap. In the latter, it is known, that grease 
 is dissolved by the lye ; and that if the quantity of grease is 
 too great for the quantity of lye, a portion of it will remain in 
 its solid state. Precisely so is it in the process of digestion. 
 
 Hence, care should always be taken not to eat moie than will 
 be dissolved or digested by the gastric juice. If one does eat 
 more than this, speedily this heavy weight is felt, longer or 
 shorter as the case may be, in the stomach. In addition to the 
 pain, usually a heaviness or dullness of feeling is experienced. 
 
 From hearing comes wisdom ; and from speaking, repentance. 
 
usually more catetal of it, than those who have inherited obe. 
 
 I 
 
 i? 
 
 1 
 
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 THE RAINBOW. m 
 
 disqualifying for labor, and especially for mental action. Nor 
 is this all; frequent habits of thus overloading the stomach, 
 derange and enfeeble all its organs. Disease of some sort or 
 other is the ordinary result. In the end, therefore, excessive 
 eating may be as prejudicial to health, and as capable of short- 
 ening life, as excessive drinking. True, one does not make a 
 person appear so much like a fool or a brute as the other ; but 
 it involves evils, against which every wise and good man should 
 cautiously guard. Nor should it be forgotten, that moderate 
 eating satisfies the sensation of hunger as well as excessive eat- 
 ing. The same as a small draught will appease the sensation 
 of thirst as well as swallowing a gallon. 
 
 Listen, young farmer, to the moral muse, 
 And catch the useful lessons of lier song. 
 Be frugal and be blest ; frugality 
 Will give thee competence ; thy gains are small. 
 Too small to bear profusion's wasteful hand. 
 Make temperance thy companion; so shall health 
 Sit on thy brow, and brace thy vig'rous frame 
 To every useful work. 
 
 THE EAINBOW.-BY CONRAD- 
 
 " What does the Rainbow's beauteous arch declare ! 
 That Justice still cries strike ; Mercy, spabe." 
 
 All Nature lay in sleep ; no zephyrs stirred 
 Its sweet repose. The trees were motionless ; 
 E'en the fair flow'ret hung its beauteous head. 
 And gently closed its varied colored leaves. 
 Tlie waters, like a mighty mirror, lay 
 Extended wide ; scarcely a ruffle stirred 
 Their glossy surface ; and the sun's bright ray 
 Pierced their transparent bosom, clear and bright. 
 
 The scene was changed : the elements awoke, 
 
 Grown strong by their late slumber, and burst forth 
 
 In all the wildness of their common nature. 
 
 The winds spread forth their pinions and rushed on. 
 
 Laying fair Nature's gifts in sadness low. 
 
 The tender saplings bowed their graceful heads, 
 
 And yielded to the blast. The giant oak. 
 
 The pride of this our land, emblem of strength, 
 
 Of grandeur and of might, low, blighted lay, 
 
 Remnant of what it once had been. 
 
 
 a 
 •a 
 
 A wise man will not tell such a truth as every one will take for a lie. 
 
a 
 
 > 
 
 that the health of the mind is of far greater consequence 
 
 H2 THE RAINBOW. 
 
 The heavens rolled sternly on in its frowning forms, 
 
 Throwing their darkened shadows far below. 
 
 Upon the groaning and deep-heaving earth. 
 
 The sea, roused up, and lashed with whitening foam g 
 
 The rocky shores, reflecting far and wide g. 
 
 The lightning's vivid flash ; while here and there 
 
 The hills and vales sent back in echoes wild 
 
 The thunder's roar. The heavens poured streaming down, f^ 
 
 In torrents wild, their waters o'er the earth. ■ £ 
 
 The storm had passed. All nature shone 
 
 In bright, redoubled splendor. Earth, air and ocean, 
 
 Refreshed by heaven's delightful showers, breathed forth 
 
 His wisdom, strength and love, in sweetest strains ; 
 
 The bird sung sweetly from the chestnut's bough. 
 
 Sparkling with dewy gems, and the sweet flow'ret 
 
 Breathed its rich perfume on the air around. 
 
 The heavens spread forth their canopy of blue. 
 
 And the bright sun cast forth its healing rays 
 
 O'er hill, and plain, and sea. 
 
 But above all. 
 Surpassing all in splendor and in grace, 
 I The Bow of God, the emblem of his love. 
 
 Stretched o'er the blue, ethereal dome of heaven. 
 
 Its streaks of varied light ; in modesty, 
 
 In beauty, in rich magnificence it lay. 
 
 Bright emblem of that glorious, matchless love 
 
 To us poor sinful mortals of the dust. 
 
 Which none but God can tell, none but God give. 
 
 Methinks it spoke in peaceful, heavenly strains. 
 More than the heart of man can e'er conceive. 
 ^ Methinks it breathed of love, a love too holy 
 
 And Godlike for this poor and sinful world. 
 Aye, gazing on its lines of matchless grace, 
 I felt far more than mortal ; in that bow 
 I saw the image of a God in whom 
 I lived, and moved, and had my being, too. 
 
 A signet I beheld, in wisdom given 
 To sinners low, that ne'er again he'll strike 
 With justice due, his disobedient flock. 
 Methinks in that broad arch of varied hue. 
 Mingling its tints so sweetly, so divine, 
 It breathed of justice, nobleness, and love, 
 Combined in that all-glorious centre — God. 
 
 The world makes men drunk as much as wine doth. 
 

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 lived nnrewarded, and died unlamented, depending on posterity 
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S FUNERAL. 
 
 It is most difficult to -decide what motive can be presented 
 to the mind of the drunliard, with any reasonable prospect of 
 its becoming efficacious in enabling him to resist a temptation 
 forever haunting his imagination. We know not how it is, but 
 he seems to have lost, some how or other, all reasoning power 
 over a vitiated animal propensity. His moral and social per- 
 ceptions have also ceased to perform their appropriate functions. 
 We may picture to him, in the most vivid colors, the loss of 
 character, but they will scarcely reach the organs of his mental 
 eye. W« may present before him poverty in all its haggard 
 aspect, but he will pay no more regard to it than to an unreal 
 phantom flitting over him. And we may embody in the attri- 
 butes of real life the anguish of broken hearts — of a disconso- 
 late wife, and of weeping children ; but, strange to tell, he will 
 heed them not. Even the attending retinue of his own prema- 
 ture funeral prospectively delineated in all the characteristics of 
 truth, will seemingly make no abiding impression upon him. 
 Why is all this ? By what process has this clfrnge been 
 wrought? His identity is barely perceptible. The chemist 
 cannot make transformations more complete. Once he was not 
 so ! Once he was rational, and sympathetic, and self-possessed 
 like other men ! But, alas, he does not now deserve the name 
 of a man ! 
 
 There is, indeed, but little mental resemblance between ra- 
 tional temperate men and a drunkard. If we discourse to them, 
 they will listen to us, and regard our counsels. If we discourse 
 to them on the acquisition of wealth — on the value of literary 
 fame — or on the honorable ends of ambition, their powers of 
 ready perception will compass us at every point, and thev will 
 resolve with the promptitude of their plighted approbation. 
 And, if we discourse to them of the hallowed precincts of the 
 family circle — of the tender relations of husband and wife — of 
 parents and children — of all the social ecstasies and sympathies 
 which there bud, and blossom, and ripen into a perfect state — 
 they will become entirely absorbed with voluntary responses 
 forever to remain loyal to those consecrated interests. Nor will 
 there be any languor in seizing on all means and agencies within 
 reach for the attainment of objects so precious. Neither sloth- 
 fulness nor enticements to false issues paralyze or retard their 
 
 Experience ia the father, and memory the mother of wisdom . 
 
loud when least lucid, should take a leSson from the great volume 
 
 •a 
 
 o 
 
 .a 
 
 114 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 
 
 exertions. If diflSculties arise, their energies will become even 
 more vigorous. If temptations assail them, they will go forth 
 to the conflict in fresh panoply. Thus they will press forward 
 with unwavering determination till every obstacle is surmounted, 
 and till in the full possession of the desired prize ; or till, alas ! 
 they sink powerless in the struggle. There is an indescribable 
 pleasure in discoursing to our fellow men with such results. 
 Here is felt the consciousness that our labor has not been in 
 vain ; .that between them and ourselves there is an undying fel- 
 lowship; that they listen to us; that they respond to us; and 
 that we are thereby enabled to be with them joint laborers in 
 the cause of human virtue. Thus, the social attributes of our 
 nature become developed in transcendent loveliness ; and the 
 world receives- a new impulse in the high moral destiny for 
 which it was ordained. Compared with such an exhibition, 
 how heartless and how powerless is the virtue of the lone child 
 of mortality ! 
 
 Not thus is it in our labors with the drunkard. Oftentimes 
 we may discourse to him on the poverty and disgrace that fol- 
 low with measured pace in his footsteps ; on his own unavoida- 
 ble personal sufferings ; and, on the agonizing ruin that will 
 overtake and overwhelm his family. Seemingly, we might as 
 well talk to a statue, or to a brute. He appears, on the one 
 hand, as regardless of what we say of the joys of abstinence, 
 as, on the other hand, of what we say of the sorrows of indul- 
 gence. In occasional ministrations extending through nearly 
 two scores of years, to reclaim unfortunate individuals of this 
 description, we shudder and are mortified, to reflect how very 
 little we have accomplished. We have seen them forsake the 
 sanctuary of religion and its pure worship for the phrensied 
 pollutions of the cup ; but remonstrance was useless ! We 
 have seen them turn their backs on the delights of domestic 
 bliss, for the brutal sensuality of the midnight revel ; but re- 
 monstrance was useless ! We have seen them relinquish all the 
 endearments of home and competence for momentary gratifica- 
 tions, till residents of an almshouse ; but, in all their mad career 
 to it, remonstrance was of no avail ! And we have followed 
 their bloated remains to the grave ; but, with their comrades, 
 remonstrance was generally without avail. Nevertheless, there 
 are instances, few and far between, where an individual has 
 been saved ; where the slumbers of conscience have been bro- 
 ken; where the soul has been reanimated with its pristine en- 
 dowments. Efibrts, therefore, should not cease. Hope may be 
 feeble, but we are to persevere in kind assiduities. The naked 
 possibility of success makes continued ministrations an impera- I 
 
 'Tis better to keep out of a quarrel, than to make it up afterward* 
 
accounted for in this way. The friends of a great man were 
 
 THE DRUNKARD S FUNERAL. H6 
 
 •c 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 tive duty. We are never justified in giving up perseverance to 
 extinguish a conflagration till the edifice lies in promiscuous 
 ruin. So in our endeavors to reform a drunkard ! The field is 
 immensely wide ; commensurate with the broad lai;d we inhabit. 
 The bewildered and impassioned candidates are countless for 
 multitude. Their disgusting visages meet us on every side. 
 The tornado sometimes upturns a whole district of country. 
 The fire sometimes spreads over and burns up a vast prairie. 
 And we have frequently seen the ravages of intemperance 
 equally extensive and equally frightful ; human habitations made 
 desolate or destroyed ; large estates made bankrupt ; large 
 farms, as it were, submerged in liquid fire ; and whole house- 
 holds palsied as with a curse, like the blasted fruit on the vine, 
 dropping, one by one, till all are gone and forgotten in the cold 
 grave ! 
 
 It is one prominent design of this work to advance the moral 
 and social condition of rural life ; and, not least in importance, 
 an attempt to arrest the prevailing tendency to intemperance. 
 The graphic description of the Drunkard's Funeral, herewith an- 
 nexed, is better fitted to this end than anything we can say. It 
 is from the pen of the Rev. John Pierpont, formerly pastor of 
 the Hollis-street Church, in Boston. He is also one of our most 
 gifted poets, and has been much distinguished for many years 
 as a temperance advocate. 
 
 There was, some eighteen years or more ago, 
 A young man, a parishioner of mine. 
 Whose name was Willard. There are WiUards many, 
 As there are many Lords and many Smiths. 
 This Willard was a butcher ; — and my meats 
 I often bought of him, in Boylston Market. 
 
 He was a man of about five feet ten ; 
 Upright, of ample chest and well-knit frame. 
 His eyes were black ; and, on his healthy cheeks, 
 The rose and lily met and kissed each other. 
 Had he, instead of Boston, dwelt in Rome, 
 The sculptors there, Tiiorwaldsen and Canoya, 
 Might have pulled caps, to see whose studio 
 Willard should grace, by standing as a model, 
 When those magicians were about to call 
 A young Apollo from Carrara's marble. 
 
 His young wife, in her comfortable home, 
 I visited, in my parochial walks ; — 
 
 The first step a man takes toward being good, is to know he is not already so. 
 
strives to please the whole of it ; he also stands a far better 
 116 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 
 
 bD 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 
 And, for a year or two, his pew, I saw, 
 
 .§• Was never empty on the Sabbath day. 
 
 ■| But, after that, both from his pew and his stall, 
 
 t He was an absentee ; and then I learned 
 
 ■f That he'd become a drover;, and, as such. 
 
 Went up and down the earth, and to and fro, ^ 
 
 And dealt in bullocks, as he dealt in beef. J 
 
 Still later, — and meanwhile, his face no more 
 
 I Was seen with those who, in the holy place, 'Z. 
 
 » " Came to present themselves before the Lord ;" 
 
 ^ And, therefore, I knew him or his no more. 
 
 "3 I sometimes saw him, in the bus'ness streets. 
 
 Acting, it seemed to me, as owner, first. 
 And, last, as only driver, of a dray. 
 And then, for years, he was to me as lost. 
 His comely figure sometimes swam along 
 Before the closing eye of memory ; 
 And I would ask myself what had become 
 Of Willard ? He had seemed like one on whom 
 The eye of Fortune had not turned with smiles ; — 
 Like one who, on the ladder of aflfairs, g. 
 
 Had been, for some time, stepping, — like a man 
 Descending from a roof with empty hod, — 
 
 5 Backward and downward. But years rolled away ; 
 
 The places he had filled were filled by others ; — 
 Another in the market had his stall ; % 
 
 And, to his pew, another family o- 
 
 " Came to present themselves before the Lord." 
 Such is the mutability of life ! 
 
 Years passed ; — and, late one Saturday, there came § 
 
 A neighbor, to request that I would go. 
 And offer prayer with a poor family 
 Whose head was taken away. The tenement. 
 The cold brick tenement, where the poor wife 
 Sat with her children, shrouded in coarse weeds, 
 Appeared almost as chill and desolate 
 As did the cold, white tenement of clay. 
 That lay o'erthrown before me. There appeared, § 
 
 Around the mourners, not a single thing "^ 
 
 That spoke of comfort past, or good to come ; — 
 W Nothing, — save what the bowels of the law 
 
 Deny its harpy fingers. I saw then, — 
 What I'd surmised, — that these poor, desolate ones 
 Must be, — they were ! — a drunkard's family. 
 
 'Tis good to know the failings of our friends, but not to publish them. 
 
 «^ 
 
bosom with a hatred more implacable than that of CoriolanuB, 
 
 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 117 
 
 To pray with those from whom the hand of death 
 Hath taken away the reverend and the wise, 
 Or, " in its infant innocence," removed 
 The babe, the budding child, — meet type of heaven !- 
 Is a delightful oflSce, Then the eye 
 Of Christian faith follows the soul, set free 
 'I From sensual chains and lures, and sees it wing 
 
 ^ Its upward way ; — and sees the gate of bliss 
 
 Swing open wide, to let the white dove in. 
 
 g How full of comfort is the Holy Book, 
 
 ^ For such as mourn the righteous and the pure ! 
 
 How full of consolation then may be 
 The voice of him, whose office 'tis to give 
 " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust !" But, oh ! 
 If thou'st a heart that pity e'er hath touched. 
 Pity him, who the sacrifice of prayer 
 Must offer at a drunkard's funeral 1 
 
 g The brothers of the man, o'er whose remains 
 
 Prayer must be made, had from the country come 
 To take the body back, — now that the town 
 Had wrought its work upon it, — and to lay 
 
 §> What was once beautiful and full of life. 
 
 Into the kind arms of its mother. Earth. 
 
 The coffin's lid was closed. Before I prayed, 
 I stepped up by its side, to read the name 
 Cut on the metal plate ; — for though the shades 
 Of evening were descending, there was light 
 Enough thrown off from the reflecting face 
 For me to see that " WiUard" was the name ! 
 
 Ere I withdrew, I took the widow's hand, 
 Dropped what poor words of comfort I could find, 
 And said, " On Monday I will visit you." 
 
 =1 I did so. On the corner of the hearth, 
 
 a On which were burning a few coals and brands, 
 
 S I found her sitting. She was bending o'er 
 
 ^ Her youngest child, — an infant, in her lap, — 
 
 On which she seem«d to gaze in speechless woe. 
 Deep o'«r her «yes, concealing ^1 her face. 
 Fell the wide ruffle of her cap of crape. 
 A little barefoot girl, some ten years old. 
 Was taxing all her strength, o'er the poor fire 
 
 A man may talk like a wise mai;, and jet act like a fooL 
 
Bome bad qualities they happened to possess ; and we are yery apt to 
 
 118 
 
 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 
 
 s 
 
 I 
 
 To hang an iron kettle ;: — not for tea, 
 Nor yet to cleanse the dishes, to be used 
 At an approaching dinner ; but, to wash. 
 As it appeared, the few and tattered shreds 
 That death and infancy had lately worn. 
 
 I sat down by the desolate one, and strove 
 By words of soothing to dissolve the spell 
 That sorrow seemed to have thrown over her. 
 But she was dumb, — she opened not her mouth. 
 My heart for her apologized, and said, 
 " A hopeless, tearless, voiceless grief is this," — 
 (For, all this while, no tear dropped on her babe !) 
 " And well it may be such ! for, what a scene 
 Is this around her ! What sad memories come 
 Up, froni the past, to greet her ! And, before, 
 0, what a dark and dreary prospect opens ! 
 What can say she to me, — or I to her ?" 
 Thus pleaded my heart for her. Then I spake, — . 
 For something must be spoken, — of a trust 
 With which a Christian woman should resign 
 Her loved and lost ones, — even though they'd fallen. 
 As her poor husband fell, — to His high call. 
 Who knoweth well how feeble is our frame. 
 And " who remembereth that we are dust." 
 Then spake I of her children, who had now 
 No earthly father their young feet to guide. 
 And who on her sole arm must therefore lean 
 For care and culture. To a mother's hand, 
 And now to hers alone, they'd look for bread. 
 " Shouldst thou not, then, for these, thy children's i 
 With all the strength thy God hath given thee, 
 Bear up the burden that His mighty hand 
 Hath laid upon thy spii-it ? Shouldst thou not 
 Lift up thine eyes and heart to Him, and say, 
 ' Lord, here am I, and those whom thou hast given me ! 
 Help me, who feel thy rod, ne'er to complain 
 Of Him who hath appointed it ! 0, lead 
 Me, and these little ones of mine, to Thee ; 
 And may we all, in Thee, a Father find. 
 Since he who was their earthly father's gone !' 
 Tea, widowed mourner, though bereft of him 
 On whose kind arm thou leanedst in thy youth. 
 Be not disconsolate, or overcome 
 By a too deep affliction. Lift thy heart, — 
 
 I 
 
 B' 
 I' 
 
 ra 
 
 B 
 
 Discretion, or a true jadgment of things, is the parent of all wisdom. 
 
expenditures, and seeing tliat benevolence herself should be pru- 
 
 ,a 
 
 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 
 
 119 
 
 Lift up thine eyes !" And she did lift them up ! 
 
 Then, for the first time, lifted she her eyes, — 
 
 They were the maudlin eyes of drunkenness ! 
 
 She was, indeed, "o'ercome," — but not with grief! 
 
 Rum was the " rod" that she was bowing under ! g- 
 
 Yes ! that poor widowed one, who, two days since, — |-. 
 
 Nay, not two days ! — had seen her husband borne 
 
 To the low house appointed for all living, — 
 
 A victim and a trophy of the " trade," — 
 
 Her little children hungering for the bread 
 
 That only she could give them, — and one of them. 
 
 Even then, receiving its whole stream of life 
 
 ^ From her own bosom ! — at the very hour 
 
 •| When he, who had commended her to God, 
 
 g Yea, and would commend her, was to come, 
 
 To weep with them that wept, and kneel beside 
 
 The robbed and wounded, — come to stanch the blood. 
 
 And pour in oil and wine, — that woman, then, 
 
 Was so profoundly steeped in what men make. 
 
 And what the law of e'en this Christian land g- 
 
 J Allows expressly to be sold, and borne "" 
 
 From house to house, and drunk in families,— ^ 
 
 And all this, as it says, " for public good," — 
 That while I sat beside her, from her breast. 
 Her lap, her drunken arms, she let her babe 
 Upon the hearth-stone fall ! g 
 
 §■ 
 
 13 Now, in all this, there is no poetry ; — g. 
 
 •5 The tale is simple fact, and simply told. 
 
 3, The hand of God, — that painteth evening's clouds. 
 
 The gloom of midnight, and the morning's glory. 
 Who poureth round the death-bed of the just 
 A light that prompteth him with dying voice 
 To ury, " grave, where is thy victory ?" & 
 
 Hath painted, with the pencil of events, g. 
 
 This gloomy picture, and hath hung it up 
 Within the chamber of my memory. 
 I cannot copy it stronger than it is. 
 Nay, nor yet as it is ! Yet there are those. 
 To whom this tale of real life, — and death, — 
 Thus simply told, without a single word 
 Of denunciation, censure, or rebuke. 
 Toward those who made, or sold, or drank the death 
 To soul and body that hath here been seen, 
 Will give oflfence. Then spread it out, oh God, 
 
 Open your door to a fair day, but make yourself ready for a foul one. 
 
 a 
 
ja 
 
 would probably come to this conclusion, that he knows enough of 
 
 120 THE drunkard's FUNERAL. 
 
 My Judge, and his and hers, of whom 'tis told, 
 Yea, and the Judge of all who saw the man 
 Go down into his grave, and ted him down, 
 By reaching forth their hand, with that in it 
 
 d 
 
 ^ 
 
 |§) Which he knew, and which they knew, would be death,- 
 
 Spread out the tale, God, as here it is, 
 
 Upon that record from which all, at last, — 
 
 I, and all those for whom I live and labor ; 
 
 My family, my flock, my age, my race, — j. 
 
 Shall " in that day" be judged — spread it out, g; 
 
 As I have written it, — as it has lain 
 
 For years, beneath thine own all-seeing eye. 
 
 And let thy judgment, then, between me pass E 
 
 And those to whom I may have given offence, - 
 
 ^ Whether I write in hatred or in love, 
 
 ^3 Whether they read in charity, or not ! 
 
 But, so do Unto me, and to my house, 
 §• And more, — if more than this of earthly woe 
 
 Thou hast in store for one who fears thee not, — 
 
 If I be let, by this world's fears or hopes, 
 
 From speaking, while thou keep'st me in thy service. 
 
 The word which thou cOmmandest me to speak I 
 
 But give me, God of wisdom and of grace, 
 Give me wisdom, all thy words of truth 
 And grace, with grace to speak. What is severe 
 a In manner, tone, or spirit, — help me to soften. 
 
 Till all my words become like his who spake 
 For Thee as never man before had spoken, — ^ 
 
 In some measure worthy of thy truth, — 
 Thy truth, that sanctifies and saves the soul I 
 But, to that truth,^-while I've a tongue to speak, 
 A pen to write it, or a heart to feel 
 Its beauty and its power, — O, let me ne'er 
 Prove faithless ! "To Thy guiding hand, my God, 
 ^ I give this simple tale. While writing it, 
 
 S I've been drawn nearer to Thee. In Thy courts, 
 
 g" This day, I could not serve Thee ; — for Thy hand 
 
 a Hath gently touched me with infirmity ; — 
 
 Upon thine altar, in my house, I lay 
 This little offering. Accept it. Lord, 
 With those that have been made Thee in Thine own ! 
 
 
 M 
 
 t>v 
 
 D^ 
 
 A good man is ever at home wherever he chaneea to be. 
 
are constantly given and constantly broken, but as constantly 
 
 .a 
 B 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 .a 
 3, 
 
 KELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN KURAL LIFE. 
 
 The groves were God's first temples. Here are seen 
 
 No traces of man's pomp or pride ; — no silks 
 
 Bustle, no jewels shine, nor envious eyes 
 
 Encounter ; no fantastic carvings show 
 
 The boast of our vain race to change the form 
 
 Of thy fair works. But thou art here — thou fill'st 
 
 The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds 
 
 That run along the summits of these trees 
 
 In music ; — Thou art in the copier breath, 
 
 That, from the inmost darkness of the place, 
 
 Comes, scarcely felt ; — the barky trunks, the ground, 
 
 The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. 
 
 Here is continual worship ; — nature, here. 
 
 In the tranquillity that thou dost love, 
 
 Enjoys thy presence. 
 
 It is neither affirmed nor denied, that there is in man an 
 innate religious principle. Each proposition has had its advo- 
 cates ; although, it is known, that those generally who mairitain 
 the affirmative, do not suppose, under the Gospel dispensation, 
 that this principle is in itself by any means sufficient to lead to 
 a Christian life. Whether there be such a one or not, it might 
 seem as if it would be brought into action, under the constantly 
 surrounding influences of nature. If it be true, that an unde- 
 vout astronomer is mad, or without reason, it is not less true, 
 that the undevout agriculturist is so likewise. Where can he 
 go — where can he cast his eyes, without being met with irre- 
 sistible demonstrations that everything upon earth and in heaven 
 is the work of an unseen Divinity ? Hence, rural life is pecu- 
 liarly calculated to teach man the most impressive lessons of 
 natural religion, as well as to give activity and vigor to impres- 
 sions derived from a Christian faith. For amidst the vast fields 
 of luxuriant verdure, he may be admonished by the parching 
 drought, the blasting mildew, and the destructive frost, that he 
 must look beyond all visible agencies for the crowning of his 
 hopes. Nor can he watch, as he almost instinctively does, the 
 
 No great good is to be expected without using means to obtain it. 
 
and beautiful as the rainbow, that smiling daughter of the 
 
 122 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 
 
 
 « 
 
 
 > 
 
 swelling germ which contains the principle of vegetable life, or 
 the opening bud, or the ripening harvest, without being taught 
 the exercise of filial gratitude. 
 
 And it is not simply in the invisible agencies that cause the 
 earth to yield her appointed increase, which furnish him with 
 the elements of a religious culture. Far from it. The genial 
 influences of the morning sun ; the soothing light of the fall 
 moon, and the refreshing breezes of spring, viewed simply in 
 reference to his own immediate Ijealth and vitality, lead to une- 
 quivocal responses in his own bosom. But, if not touched by 
 these mild and pathetic harmonies of a watchful Providence, he 
 cannot , possibly stand unawed when witnessing the sublime 
 mysteries of God's power, in the howling of the wind, the hor- 
 rors of the tornado, and the deafening thunder's loud crash. 
 In the city, shut up by high walls of brick and stone, as in a 
 dark prison, these exhibitions are faintly seen ; but in the coun- 
 try, with no artificial obstructions, from the window or the 
 threshold of his own dwelling, man stands and gazes upon the 
 broad expanse of earth and sky till circumvented by the distant 
 horizon. Here he witnesses the commotion of the elements in 
 all their overwhelming grandeur. At one moment there is 
 spread out before him a world of darkness so dense as to chill 
 his inmost soul. At the next moment the whole is one blaze of 
 electric fire, causing him to shrink backward, as in the final con- 
 flagration. At one moment he watches the venerable oak stand- 
 ing before him, bending and rising, in the majesty of a century's 
 growth, defying the wind and the storm, as it has oft done 
 before. But, at the next moment, it is shivered and shattered 
 into countless atoms. 
 
 Where else can the soul of man be so powerfully moved ? 
 Do the denunciations of the pulpit thus reach him ? In this 
 open expanse — God's temple on earth, not made by human 
 hands — the eloquence of the human voice is comparatively fee- 
 ble and powerless. And here, too, are felt not alone His over- 
 whelming power ; for, from the same point of observation, the 
 immensity of the Divine wisdom is equally demonstrable. Let 
 man there take his position, in the midnight hour, when all cre- 
 ation is slumbering in silence ; when the stillness of the grave 
 reigns all around him ; when not the rustling of a leaf is caused 
 by the passing wind ; when no cloud, even of the size of his 
 own hand, cuts short his vision ; let it then be asked, what will 
 be his reflections ! He gazes and wonders, till lost hi admira- 
 tion. This world and its glory to him now loses all its beauty. 
 Its entire pageantry seems to him like a delusive dream. His 
 eye catching upon the light of those sparkling fires, as it were 
 
 The best elucidation of one's faith is hia outward every day conduct. 
 
to be a problem he had never taken the trouble to solve ; 
 
 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 123 
 
 i 
 
 < 
 
 spread broadcast on the whole expanse of heaven's high arch, 
 he inwardly whispers, Whence are all these diamond gems? 
 What are they ? For what end do they exist ? How long have 
 they been there ? The impressive moral of such whispers, oh 
 how deep and abiding it is ! It cannot fail to give man, at least, 
 some adequate conceptions of his own weakness, as well as of 
 God's wisdom, power, and goodness. 
 
 Nevertheless, if Christian institutions are of value anywhere, 
 they are immensely so in the country. Without them the in- 
 habitants lose no small measure of social endearments, and tend 
 correspondingly to barbarism. As much as man, in the coun- 
 try, may be aided in religious culture by rural influences, he 
 still needs the stated benefits of the Sabbath and public wor- 
 ship. As remarked, he needs them for the elevation of his 
 social character ; he needs them as having an intimate relation 
 to his pecuniary interests ; and, especially does he need them 
 as the appointed means of his spiritual preparation for another 
 world. A few words will be said under each of these heads. 
 
 First. In the country, man especially needs the agency of 
 Christian institutions for the softening and refining of his social 
 attributes. It would be superfluous to argue in favor of pol- 
 ished manners. No matter what are the native endowments of 
 man, or of his wealth.if he is a clown in his intercourse with 
 his family and society, he will by no means command that kind 
 of homage and respect, which he would were he a gentleman 
 in his manners. He as much needs a course of training in this 
 particular, as the marble needs being made smooth and polished 
 to be rendered fit for its most valuable end. Refinement and 
 grace of deportment as much distinguish the possessor of them 
 from the individual who has them not, as the well-wrought 
 diamond is distinguished from the diamond in a rugged state. 
 These are matters which commend themselves to the notice of 
 all observers. The individual who has them not, is able to ap- 
 preciate them, and to feel deejjly his own deficiency for the 
 want of them. Like beauty of color, like sweetness of sound, 
 like symmetry of physical proportion, they commend themselves 
 to the native perceptions of learned or unlearned, rich or poor. 
 
 In cities, and by traveling, there is constantly opportunity by 
 mingling with the best society, for persons to acquire that ease 
 and grace, which characterize the accomplished gentleman or 
 lady. Not so is it in the country. Especially, in secluded sit- 
 uations, during the days of labor the members of a family might 
 not be brought into juxtaposition with such influences for 
 months ; and perhaps the younger members for a year or more. 
 Where, then, let it be asked, are they to acquire these all-im- 
 
 A wise man is said to change bis mind, but a fool never does. 
 
shall not mutually encroach to the destruction of all. For pleaa- 
 
 124 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 
 
 Us 
 
 portant characteristics of genteel life ? The answer is obvious. 
 They are to he acquired by the stated habits of attending church 
 on Sunday ; thus, giving all an opportunity for observing each 
 other; their dress; their manners; and for commingling and 
 conversing together. The poorer, and the less informed and 
 less polished, catch the manners of the more favored portions of 
 the people with a facility that would not be imagined. The 
 effect of this — slight as the contact may be — fifty-two times in 
 the year, and year after year — is positively incredible. So far 
 as the manners of young persons, especially, are concerned, it 
 may be rendered worth as much as three months' attendance at 
 a fashionable school every year. And ordinarily, in riding 
 through secluded districts of the country, one may as readily 
 recognize children and even adults, but especially the former, 
 who are accustomed every Sunday to repair to the village 
 church, from those who are not accustomed to do it, as to dis- 
 tinguish between black sheep and white ones. 
 
 Incident to improvement of manners, is the general effect on 
 personal appearance. Where the family is to attend church, 
 there is an appropriate adaptation of clothing previously made 
 ready. Cheap, it may be; but tidy and clean; and originally 
 made, as if designed, too, for the eye of those more expensively 
 attired. On Saturday night, a general ablution and purification 
 are made, according to standing regulations. Shoes and boots 
 are not forgotten, but are well brushed and polished. The 
 filth and dirt of the week are removed ; and what is equally 
 important, its toils are, in a measure, forgotten ; all are thankful 
 for an approaching day of rest ; and, as it were, renovated as 
 well as purified, all retire, and have a good night of refreshing 
 sleep. No sooner does the morning light peep through the 
 windows, than all arise, adopt their Sunday attire, and repair to 
 church. How different does that family appear from what it 
 would, had this renovation of appearance not been made ! A 
 stranger would not know them to be the same individuals. 
 Yet all this is the effect of an attendance on public worship. 
 
 In the secoflrf place, it is susceptible of demonstration that 
 the institution of the Sabbath, simply as a day of rest, is for the 
 pecuniary interest of all, and especially for agriculturists. 
 The more severe the toil of any class of men, the more they, in 
 particular, need periodical seasons of relaxation. It was evi- 
 dently the design of the Almighty that all his creatures should 
 have it. As a punishment for sin, although man was doomed 
 to a life of labor — to eat his bread by the sweat of his face 
 until the day of his death ; yet, there was a measure of meliora- 
 tion — there was, periodically, to be a day of rest, once a week. 
 
 The footsteps of the owner are the best manure for his land. 
 
until they have been some time in hot water. A year of 
 
 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 125 
 
 S 
 
 to the end of time. His constitution requires it ; for uninter- 
 rupted labor would soon destroy all his energies. The organi- 
 zation in the animal world was evidently in accordance with 
 such a necessity. It is said, also, that the same principle is dis- 
 coverable in the vegetable economy ; that the growth of plants 
 and flowers is by no means uniform — sometimes rapid ; then 
 almost stationary ; and after that accelerated, as if, in the sea- 
 son of rest, a new impulse had been received. Nay, that the 
 soil itself cannot be perpetually taxed with production ; that 
 now and then it must lie fallow. 
 
 This, therefore, may be esteemed a principle of philosophy, 
 as well as of religious appointment. The principle was recog- 
 nized by God himself in the most emphatic manner. He not 
 only directed his creatures to observe it, but in resting from all 
 his labors on the seventh day, he gave them an example, to 
 render the injunction the more impressive. It is by no means 
 to be supposed that He needed rest, as we do ; but his lan- 
 guage in this, as in other cases, is adapted to the apprehension 
 and the necessities of those to whom it is addressed. This is 
 not a matter that can be proved, like a problem in mathematics ; 
 but it nevertheless admits a process of elucidation, which renders 
 it morally certain. And, it is hence affirmed by those the most 
 competent to judge, that man and farm animals of burden will, 
 in a year, perform moie labor working six days only in the 
 week, than if they were continually employed. If the principle 
 assumed is not simply true, but of Divine recognition, designed 
 to impart a twofold benefit — a periodical dispensation from the 
 curse upon sin, and still an increased result from the operation 
 of that curse — no one can doubt that a departure from the 
 spirit of the institution will be ordinarily attended with actual 
 pecuniary loss. So far as our own individual experience may 
 tend to elucidate and give sanction to the hypothesis, we may 
 certainly speak with unhesitating confidence. For we all know 
 what an exhaustion is felt from a long period of intense applica- 
 tion to any subject ; and, with what increased energy we re- 
 turn to it, after having had a period of relaxation. Oftentimes, 
 a week seems too long to endure it ; and, rarely do we fail to 
 greet with delight its termination by the return of that hallowed 
 season which gives us repose. 
 
 But this day of rest returning once a week, brings with it an 
 incidental advantage, so far as pecuniary interest is involved. 
 The rest we receive is not simply good in itself, as now ex- 
 plained ; there attends it a train of the most beneficial results. 
 It is well known, that system and order conduce, in all kinds of 
 business, to a successful termination. Without them, success is 
 
 Go not to your lawyer for every quarrel, nor td your pitcher for every thirBt. 
 
Tetnperance puts wood on the fire, flour in the barrel, meat 
 
 126 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 
 
 seldom experienced, and is never rationally expected, No mat- 
 ter how well a man devises his schemes ; no matter with what 
 assiduity he devotes himself to them ; if everything is done at 
 the wrong time ; if everything is found in the wrong place, the 
 consequehce will be confusion and disorder. Take, for instance, 
 the merchant, as a general illustration, who pays one debt a 
 week before it is due, and neglects to pay another till a week 
 after it is due ; who sends to one customer articles materially 
 different from those ordered ; who ships goods for another cus- 
 tomer to a place far remote from that to which they should go ; 
 who places his bills of lading where his letters of correspond- 
 ence should be ; who habitually charges goods to the wrong 
 persons ; now is it possible, in the nature of things, that that 
 merchant can prosper? The same may be said of the mechanic 
 who spends as much time in searching after tools as in using 
 them, because they had been placed where they ought not to 
 be ; and, in doing the second time, labor which he heedlessly 
 did wrong at first. 
 
 To the farmer, this systematized order is, if possible, of greater 
 utility. Simple and monotonous as his operations are supposed 
 to be, with him everything will end wrong, unless he makes his 
 plans with precision, and adheres to them invariably so far as 
 practicable. If things are not done at the proper time, possi- 
 bly the labor of doing them will be lost. Suppose he neglect 
 to house his hay at the proper time, a rain may destroy half its 
 value. Suppose he neglect to provide against the ravages of 
 insects a day too long, his vines may all be destroyed. Sup- 
 pose he neglect duly to repair his fences, his corn may be de- 
 stroyed by his cattle. A hundred similar cases may occur, 
 either rendering worthless labor already spent, or requiring 
 double the amount of time in doing a thing, that would have 
 been requisite under proper precautions and foresight. What 
 if, on being ready for ploughing, it is found that his plough 
 needs repairs, causing a day of delay ? What if, on his first 
 harvest of hay, it is found his rakes are all broken or lost ? 
 The farmer has no time to lose for such interruptions, or for 
 looking all over his premises for tools that ought to be found 
 at the instant. He should possess every implement needed in 
 the work on the farm ; for everything there should be an ap- 
 propriate place ; and in its place should invariably be found, 
 unless when in use. Besides, when an implement is damaged, 
 it should be forthwith repaired, so as to be in readiness when- 
 ever again wanted. 
 
 The institution of a day of rest every week, may and should 
 contribute materially to this order in rural economy. As far ' 
 
 
 There is no better looking-glass than an old friend. 
 
ty study ; alienated friendship soothed into forgetfulness ; and 
 
 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 12*7 
 
 60 
 
 
 as practicable, at the end of every week, business should be 
 brought to a regular close ; everything that had been begun 
 should be finished ; there should be a general survey of the 
 premises, to see if everything is in its right place and proper 
 condition ; if a rail in the fence is down or broken, it should be 
 repaired. In fact, to see that everything is in a suitable con- 
 dition to be relinquished to the care of another person, as if the 
 proprietor expected to be laid by with sickness, or to go a jour- 
 ney from home. Now, if everything on or about a farm is 
 thus arranged and provided for at Saturday night, what a 
 precious season of rest the Sabbath will be to him ! He can 
 go to church and worship God without having his thoughts 
 drawn homeward. And in what a desirable condition will 
 everything be found Monday morning ! Who can doubt that 
 under such an organization the rest from labor will be condu- 
 cive to the temporal prosperity of the farmer, as well as to his 
 social endearments, and to his spiritual welfare ? It appears to 
 be a matter of plain common sense. Let it be inquired, if it is 
 not a fact, as a general thing, that farmers who have adopted 
 such a rule of labor and supervision, are better off in their 
 worldly interests, are more advanced in the business of agri- 
 culture, than those who pay no regard to it? 
 
 It is well known, that in domestic economy, good house- 
 keepers do actually derive this incidental advantage ;from a day 
 of rest once in the week. One day is devoted to washing ; one 
 to ironing ; one to cleaning house ; one to mending ; one to 
 baking ; so that by Saturday night everything is brought to a 
 comely state. None of these things are left for the approaching 
 week. Everything is arranged and in order, as if she did not 
 expect to live another week. Men should do the same on their 
 farms. If they did, they would thrive and prosper. 
 
 In the third place, to man as a religious being, the institu- 
 tions of the Sabbath and public worship are indispensable. 
 Without them, it would be difficult to keep alive a becoming 
 spirit of piety. The customary devotion to business ; the 
 fatigue and prostration occasioned by severe toil ; the per- 
 plexity too often experienced on account of unfaithfulness or 
 want of skill in those to whom trusts are committed ; have a 
 tendency to impair the vital energies of a life of faith, even 
 when under such influences for six days only, in uninterrupted 
 succession. True, the family altar may not be neglected ; the 
 Bible may daily impart its divine counsels ; and there may be, 
 too, the oblation of vocal melody ; but, amidst the hurry and 
 the excitement incident to pressing avocations, those comely 
 ministrations may degenerate into mere formality, without a 
 
 If you would make friends and disarm enemies, keep a good conscience. 
 
descerded to earth, unhappily called her " a fallen angel." 
 
 128 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 
 
 do 
 
 .3 
 
 ■i 
 
 I 
 
 particle of genuine devotion. How necessary, then, that there 
 should be stated occasions, in the cotlntry rarely enjoyed ex- 
 cept on the Sabbath, to check the progress of this worldly 
 influence upon the soul ; to wake up the slumbering elements 
 of its divine life ; to impart to them renewed energy ; and, thus 
 keeping in healthful vigor the fervors of an enlightened piety ! 
 And, even if the religion of the family Could be made as spir- 
 itual and as controlling as practicable in a world of sin and moral 
 weakness, the distinctive attribute of religion is its social ten- 
 dency. Alone we may be cold and lifeless ; but in the full 
 congregation, heart sympathizing with heart, as face answers to 
 face in the water, we become warmed and animated, and can 
 respond to the declaration that a day in the Lord's courts is 
 better than a thousand elsewhere. 
 
 The institution of public worship has an incidental advantage. 
 Artificial distinctions in society are unnatural, and under some 
 circumstances exert an unfavorable influence. It is not, proba- 
 bly, an evil, that distinctions in society should exist. It would 
 be diSicult to imagine a healthy community without them. 
 There must be persons in the administration of civil govern- 
 ment ; in the direction of the army and the navy ; in the super- 
 vision of mercantile establishments ; in the management of 
 extensive mechanical operations ; and not less so in the direc- 
 tion of agricultural labor, raised above the mass of citizens, 
 clerks and operatives, entitled to exercise authority, and of 
 course to receive that respect, deference, and submission which 
 are unavoidable. Wealth does not a little in the creation of 
 outward distinctions among men; And learning likewise gives 
 its possessors an elevation by no means small. Such distinc- 
 tions are unavoidable, and should not be condemned. But they 
 too often give a prominence that is to be deplored. On the 
 one hand, pride enters into them, and produces a disgusting in- 
 flation. On the other hand, the common citizen, the poor man, 
 the unlettered man, the laborer, is correspondingly depressed. 
 Now and then a common brotherhood is scarcely recognized. 
 Common sympathies are scarcely felt. Now and then it ap- 
 pears as if individuals belonging to these diffferent classes do 
 not realize that they belong to the same species. This should 
 not be. It should be prevented so far as practicable. 
 
 The institution of public worship is powerful in leveling the 
 feelings of men. In the Christian temple the distinctions of 
 rank are laid aside. All meet on the same broad basis. All 
 have one common faith. There is no human merit. All alike 
 are sinners, depending solely on the grace of God for pardon, 
 acceptance, and mercy. The individual worth millions, and the 
 
 Good manners, good senae, and money, make gentlemen of our sons. 
 
But \f ho wbuld ■williDgly be thus adjudged ? 'Who is there 
 
 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 129 
 
 individual who commands the services of tens of thousands, are 
 as destitate of all claims for divine favor, as the poorest beggar 
 who depends on the rich for his daily bread ; and, perhaps, in 
 Christian virtue — in the graces of the Spirit — the latter is much 
 more eminent than the former ! How heavenly is the spectacle 
 in the Christian temple, to see the humble soldier kneeling by 
 the side of his commanding general, the most servile day-laborer 
 by the side of him from whose earthly charities he is able to 
 live ; the poor washerwoman by the side of the lady worth half 
 a million dollars ; each alike commemorating in penitence, in 
 faith, and in hope, the death of Him through whose merits they 
 expect salvation ; and, on arising and departing, all exchanging, 
 with pressing hands and throbbing h«arts, the symbols of a 
 common fellowship I Lei the rich and the powerful go away 
 to their splendid mansions ; recline upon their silken couches ; 
 and feast on the luxuries of an entire hemisphere ; yet infinitely 
 better Christians than they were before. Let the poor go away 
 to their humble cottages ; partake of the meal of wholesome 
 penury, and then pass the evening as Christians ought to pass 
 it ; and how happy and contented are they in the lowly station 
 ordained for them by Providence I 
 
 Farmers should never consider it a burden to contribute for 
 the support of Christian institutions. These institutions, well 
 maintained, add ten per cent, to the value of a]l real estate in a 
 town ; probably more. As citizens, it makes no great difference 
 whether they belong to one denomination or another. The 
 effect on the community, in all the essentials of the social char- 
 acter, is much the same. And, when we witness the scenei 
 sketched in the preceding paragraph, under whatever distinc- 
 tive name, we cannot fail to greet all, wherever found, whatever 
 their complexion, whatever their language, whatever their out- 
 ward forms of worship, as brethren in the Christian faith. 
 
 A more impressive scene is not known in rural life, nor in- 
 deed anywhere else, than the sight of a whole population, for 
 miles around, on a pleasant Sunday morning in the vernal sea- 
 son, collecting for public worship on the Church Green. Every- 
 thing without and within conspires to produce the emotions of 
 chastened piety. The noise and bustle of labor were laid aside, 
 on the previous evening. Stillness reigns with undisturbed 
 dominion. The realm of nature, as if to join in the general 
 homage, is peculiarly .lovely. The rich and dense foliage of 
 her forests waving in majesty and beauty ; the grass, green and 
 soft, like velvet, in the meadows and upon the roadside ; and 
 the perfumes of flowers and aromatics, everywhere regale the 
 senses, and point upward to the Being that made and governs 
 
 Examine not the pedigree nor the patrimony of a good mau. 
 
presently of at some other titae^— also in -what terms 
 
 I 
 
 J5 
 
 130 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 
 
 all. In the midst of this quiet loveliness and overpowering 
 suasion, as far as the eye can reach in varied directions; family 
 after family, each in a group by itself, those near by on foot— r- 
 those more distant in carriages, is slowly advancing with pen- 
 sive air, to mingle in the gathering crowd. With what kind, 
 salutations do they greet each other ! With what siniplicity 
 have they adorned themselves ! What a charming contrast be- 
 tween the surrounding verdure and the white robes of female 
 youth ; alike emblematical of unsullied innocence presumed to 
 exist at that period of life, and of the flowing vestures in which 
 the righteous are represented, in their glorified state, to surround 
 the throne of God ! Such an election of vestments is a matter 
 of philosophy as well as of good taste. Hot absorbing the 
 sun's rays like black, they of course are much cooler ; and they 
 may be supposed to denote those personal ablutions particu- 
 larly needful after a six days' exposure to the dust, when freely 
 perspiiing, as all will perspire in labor under a summer sun. 
 For these reasons, as well as for their appropriateness in a 
 religious view, It is a paradox that this subject is so little appre- 
 ciated. In the church, appropriate neatness of costume is a 
 virtue tending to piety itself ; whereas, a gaudy and fantastic 
 display of dress and ornament is in bad taste, originating in 
 pride, and tending to the desecration of the forms of religion. 
 
 However, it is not designed to discuss this subject here. An- 
 other one, alluded to, deserves further consideratiou in speaking 
 of the religious influences in the country ; it is, the grouping of 
 families, each family entire by itself, especially on Sunday. 
 There is around the fireside, and the household altar, in these 
 well-defined associations, a melting pathos that cannot fail of 
 touching the heart of the beholder. Tliere is, in the relations 
 between parents and children, and all of the same household, a 
 social chord which cannot be touched without sending its vibra- 
 tions to every hunian bosom. In all well-organized communities 
 we see much to admire, especially authority and submission, like 
 the difierent shades of the landscape so blended into each other, 
 that it is difficult to define where either terminates and the other 
 begins. But in the faniily circle, where authority and submis- 
 sion are modified and made sacred by the laws of consanguinity, 
 where the one and the other is exercised in love, like that which 
 binds divinity and humanity in common fellowship ; where all 
 enjoy one inheritance and are bound together by one instinct, 
 we should be wanting in the most precious sensibilities of our 
 nature were we to prescribe limits to our admiration and hom- 
 age. So deeply engraven on the heart of man are the princi- 
 ples that govern us in estimating this subject, that we gaze with 
 
 ^ 
 
 Avoid, as companions, passionate men, and sullen men. 
 
a likenesB of ue in a had one, but v/e are the same : 
 
 RELIGIOUS INFLUENCES IN RURAL LIFE. 131 
 
 GQ 
 
 unmeasured delight even on analogous grouped alliances in the 
 brute creation. Who can fail to experience pleasure on behold- 
 ing, in alt the grades of this creation, the parent, with her pro- 
 geny, following their respective instincts, till the latter ceases to 
 need thts protection of the former ? Who can feel no interest 
 ia the feathered songsters of the forest, watching over and feed- 
 ing their little responsibilities, if possible with more than human 
 assiduity ? Who can feel no interest in beholding the female 
 grunter imparting nourishment to her sleek and portly young ? 
 And if the ever-faithful barn-yard fowl, with her sprightly ret- 
 inue, is made by the inspired writer an emblem of social fidelity, 
 it surely is not beneath our dignity, or the dignity of our subject, 
 that we make kindred allusions. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is on the occasions to which we haVe alluded, 
 that the family group appears in more than ordinary loveliness. 
 As with all others, in the Christian temple, all the members of the 
 household lay aside all distinctions of age, of authority, and of 
 rank ; and, among the most ardent of their aspirations, is the 
 one that they may most faithfully, and at all times, perform 
 the corresponding duties which originate in their family rela- 
 tion. Can parents thus unite in these hallowed services, and 
 experience no increased feeling of responsibility, for a due regard 
 to the welfare of those by nature and religion made dependent 
 on them ? And can children thus unite in them without being 
 the more impressed with their own duties for love and filial sub- 
 mission ? And, when on their way homeward, and when again 
 collected in their own domicil, does not the passion of love burn 
 with a flame more pure and effulgent than before ; and do not 
 fresh smiles and caresses, as if from the inspiration of heaven, 
 reciprocally cheer each other till lulled to midnight rest and 
 Sweet repose ? Where else can the joint members of the 
 household thus adorn themselves with this social garniture ? 
 Where else can they seek for these renewed and invigorated 
 social instincts, a panoply, that, like the mantle of divine mercy, 
 will never wax old ,nor decay ? 
 
 Hence, if we would maintain the excellency of the family 
 relation in all its purity and vigor, let the family on all con- 
 venient occasions, and especially in the house of God, and on 
 the way to and from that sacred place, maintain its distinctive 
 position. An army moving forward to conflict admits of no 
 promiscuous concourse ; its beauty and its grandeur depend on 
 each company or portion of it remaining distinct and in its, own 
 place, so that there may be no confusion or disorder. Let a 
 well-disciplined and arranged martial band be contrasted with 
 one of tumultuous formation, and how forcibly will our subject 
 
 A good wife is the workmanship of her own husband. 
 
tliose that can tatk sense, ia languages that are living. To acquire 
 
 132 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 be illustrated! As a i well-organized corps appears, viewed in 
 relation to its minor organizations, both in its inarching and 
 counter-marching, as well as when stationary under the review 
 of its commanding general, so let families on their way to the 
 Christian temple, when there engaged in its divine services, and 
 also on their way homeward, preserve their own associate char- 
 acter in unbroken order. Let families — ten or twenty — be well 
 grouped,' each succeeding another, at a discernible distance from 
 each other, as the several companies of a regiment advance ; 
 and who can say there is no beauty in going, like the tribes of 
 ancient Israel, to the courts of the Lord ? 
 
 0, what a glory doth this world put on 
 For him that with a fervent heart goes forth 
 Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks 
 On duties well performed, and days well spent 1 
 For him the wind, aye, and the yellow leaves, 
 Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings; 
 He shall so hear the solemn hymn that death 
 Has lifted up for all, that he shall go; 
 To bis long resting-place without a tear. 
 
 MEANS FOE MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 There is a tpngue in every leaf — 
 
 A voice in every rill ; — 
 A voice that speaketh everywhere. 
 In flood and fire, through earth and air 1 
 
 A tongue that's never still ! 
 
 Farmbes often complain that they are deficient in education. 
 For this there is no necessity. Let them support ^nd improve 
 good common schools. Let them avail themselves of the other 
 means of mental improvement within their reach, and they will 
 acquire an education adequate for any occasion they will be 
 called to meet ; and they will hold ah elevation in society held 
 by no other class of men. It is known that they have a large 
 amount of leisure. Let this be spent in the cultivation of their 
 mmds ; m laying up stores of useful knowledge. 
 
 The benefits of the common school have been named. They 
 make a good foundation for any subsequent mental culture. 
 Then let the leisure time of farmers be spent in readirig good 
 
 A great fortune with a wife, is often found a bed full of brambles. 
 
the mind, for that which niggard nature had denied her, 
 
 •a 
 
 ■d 
 bo 
 
 
 a 
 
 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 133 
 
 books, good family newspapers, and studying the topography 
 and statistics of the country. Eead no bad books ; they are 
 worse than none. Let every family take a weekly secular 
 newspaper ; a weekly religious newspaper ; and a monthly 
 agricultural paper. Let the families in the same immediate 
 neighborhood — half a dozen or le^s — act in concert ; not all 
 take the same papers, but as many different ones as they can. 
 Let these secular papers come on different days in the week ; 
 one Monday, one Tuesday, one Wednesday, and so on, so that 
 a fresh paper will come into the neighborhood every day. Let 
 all exchange these papers with each other, after each has been 
 read by its owner. The religious papers should come the latter I 
 part of the week, so that each family have a fresh one for Sun- 
 day. Thus, these six families will all hav« the benefit of six 
 different secular papers, giving them all the important news 
 fresh, with a vast amount of valuable miscellaneous matter — in 
 the course of a few years sufficient to make a little library, were 
 it in volumes. A year of such reading will be of equal value to 
 a family, especially the young members of it, as going to school 
 three months. If paid in advance, as newspapers always should 
 be paid for, the cost will be to each family only about five dol- 
 lars — equal in value to twenty-five dollars in tuition for going 
 to school. 
 
 An objection is at once made that the expense cannot be en- 
 dured ; and possibly that there is no leisure for all this reading. 
 As for the latter, a plump contradiction is interposed. There is 
 time for it, and much besides. The pecuniary means are easily 
 provided. Let every farmer appropriate the produce of half 
 an acre — if he has a large farm, an acre, for literary purposes — 
 for the education and mental improvement of his family. Let 
 it be well tilled, well manured, and planted with potatoes, corn, 
 cabbage, wheat, oats, or whatever will give the best crop. Let 
 it be understood, that the profits are not to be touched fQr any- 
 thing else, and you may depend upon it, there will be no neg- 
 lect in its supervision. No more will a weed be found upon 
 it than upon a Macadam turnpike. The women, of the family 
 will watch its growth ; the boys will keep their hoes bright as 
 swords and bayonets, in destroying whatever should be renioved. 
 The profits on this half acre will certainly be fifteen dollars. 
 Here, then, in a district of six families, will be ninety dollars to 
 be expended in mental culture ; five dollars to each family in 
 paying for the periodicals above named, and ten dollars to each 
 for the purchase of interesting and useful books ! Let the three 
 hundred agricultural families of a town containing, it may be, 
 from three to four thousand inhabitants — a fair equation — do 
 
 s 
 
 a. 
 "J* 
 
 God doth the cure, and the physioiau receives the money for it. 
 
meeting we shall find lliem very flat and monotonous ; like 
 
 Hi" 
 
 134 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 ttis, and in ten years, when the children are grown to adult 
 stature, what a change will their society exhibit I Think of it, 
 reader I Make a beginning ! The example, under proper in- 
 ducements, will spread like wildfire. 
 
 To encourage an enterprise so pregnant with results, let agri- 
 cultural societies offer a premium of one hundred dollars to the 
 town within the limits of the society's operation that has, 
 according to its population, the greatest number of these fields 
 devoted to literature ; and let each town give a premium of ten, 
 fifteen, or twenty dollars, foi' the greatest profit on any one of 
 these half acres in that town. Are there no persons in our 
 state and county agricultural societies to make such a move- 
 ment ; and may not enough individuals in every tOwn be select- 
 ed to do the same ? Let some of the old premiums offered by 
 towns for killing wild cats, wolves, and bears, as that descrip- 
 tion of gentry so troublesome to ojir forefathers, has been de- 
 stroyed, or has prudently removed to other regions, be now 
 offered for making our sons and daughters fit for a residence, 
 six months every year, at the seat of the Federal Government. 
 Nothing is wanted fer the effecting this, but the zealous efforts 
 of a few distinguished individuals in every town. 
 
 It is not often considered what large results come from a 
 cause in itself frequently very diminutive. Many may, and 
 doubtless will, ridicule the proposition suggested. A case may 
 be named apropos to the scheme here recommended. Nearly 
 fifty years since, a boy of eight or t^n years old was known to live 
 in one of the then new townships of our country. Probably there 
 was not a book there, save a small family Bible, here and there 
 Watts' Psalms and Hymns, spelling-books, Small arithmetics, 
 and half a dozen or so of Morse's dollar geography. These 
 constituted the literature of the town. This boy was allowed 
 to plant a little patch of potatoes, it may be half an acre. The 
 increase was annually sold at about twenty cents the bushel, 
 and the cash laid by. During this period he accidentally came 
 across the last volume of Joseph us in six volumes, belonging to 
 a little social library of two hundred volumes, in an older settle- 
 ment, ten miles distant. He read that volume with eagerness. 
 The influence upon his mind was incredible. Previously he knew 
 nothing of books save those named. Of a library he had never 
 heard. The importance of this one acquired more value in his 
 mind than a gold mine. He resolved to appropriate a portion 
 of his potato funds for an interest in it. He did so; and weekly, 
 for several years, he continued to take a half day for obtaining 
 a book to be read the succeeding week. However, this did not 
 satisfy; he wanted books of his own. His potato funds were 
 
 He who will have a mule without a fault, must keep none 
 
a proper kind and well prepared, there is little danger 
 
 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 135 
 
 .S 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 .s 
 
 .2 
 
 'I 
 
 a 
 
 t 
 
 used up in the purchase of them. At sixteen he resolved to 
 obtain a public education. This he accomplished ; studied a 
 profession ; took no small part in promoting the literature of 
 the country ; and finally receiyed, the highest collegiate honors ; 
 the whole of which may be referred back to the products of a 
 little potato patch applied to mental improvement. 
 
 Although we have given a prompt denial to the excuse for 
 a neglect of reading and study, that there is a deficiency of leis- 
 ure time, yet we propose here to examine it more minutely. It 
 is admitted that to those who have not examined it carefully, 
 there may appear to be some plausibility in it. Truly, in the 
 summer season, especially, and during the hours of daylight in 
 the winter, farmers may always find something to do. Allu- 
 sions are elsewhere made, on the one hand, to the constancy of 
 rural occupation, and on the other hand, to the oppoi'tunities of 
 persons thus occupied for ample intellectual culture. As the 
 subject is of vast importance, a few paragraphs may well be 
 devoted, to a better comprehension of the nature of these op- 
 portunities. They will be found far more numerous and ample 
 than is supposed. The experience of hundreds and of thou- 
 sands of persons habitually employed in manual labor of some 
 kind or other, is in confirmation of the views here presented. 
 It is too well known to require, in this place, any particular 
 account, of individuals both in this country and elsewhere, who 
 have risen to eminence, having laid the foundation for it in 
 habits of study and reading amidst the most constant applica- 
 tions to mechanical or agricultural occupations. Among these 
 individuals will be recognized those of the first grade of dis- 
 tinction in the learned professions and of political life. Such 
 instances will be more and more frequent as the subject becomes 
 better understood. 
 
 The evenings, themselves, afford an average of three hours 
 each for one half of the year. This, in the tliirty-five years 
 between the age of fifteen and fifty, is sufficient, if properly ap- 
 plied, for the acquisition of more knowledge from books and 
 study, than is ordinarily acquired during a course of clas- 
 sical and professional study in our best public institutions. 
 Three hours a day, for six months, Sundays excepted, will be 
 four hundred and fifty hours; and this multiplied by thirty- 
 five, the number of years supposed will be fiteen thousand, 
 seven hundred and fifty hours. Now if we suppose a course of 
 classical and professional study in our public institutions to em- 
 brace a period of eight years — four in college, and four besides ; 
 and, that each individual is occupied eight hours a day, for two 
 hundred and twenty-five days, each year, the rest of the time 
 
 Three helping one another, will do as much as six single. 
 
tliem up in learning, good manners, and virtuous 
 
 136 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 •3 
 
 being Sundays and vacations, the entire period of his study in 
 the eight years, will be fourteen thousand' and four hundred 
 hours, less by about one tenth than is at the control of efery 
 farmer, without interference with his labors, and putting the 
 summer six months entirely out of the calculation. Thus it will 
 be apparent, that every farmer between the age of fifteen and 
 fifty years, in his long evenings, has one tenth more of leisure 
 which might be devoted to intellectual improvement, than the 
 average period which young men devote to classical and profes- 
 sional study in the best public institutions of the country, Yet 
 how little is this realized ! How few take advantage of it ! 
 How few are aware that such is the fact ! Yet, how many 
 might, by this means alone, arrive at a position as scholars in 
 society of which they do not dream ! 
 
 Nevertheless, valuable as these evenings are, when standing 
 alone, it may easily be seen, as we shall show, that they are but 
 a fraction — a small fraction — of what is within the reach of the 
 agriculturist. We beg our readers not to be alarmed. We are 
 to advocate no relaxation of manual labor — no neglect of atten- 
 tion to the various details of occupation in the best forms of 
 husbandry. Far be it from us to encourage a relaxed vigilance 
 in the supervision, or a superficial adhesion to the most thorough 
 systems of practical farming. Far be it from us to attempt 
 invigorating the mind by reducing the support of the body ; or 
 by pursuing mental wealth by impoverishing the purse. The 
 process we shall recommend will be attended with no such lia- 
 bilities. Indeed, the reverse will be the consequence. 
 
 If manual labor, particularly in agriculture, were similar to 
 the labor of the merchant, or to professional occupation, our 
 hypothesis would be unsound, and of course impracticable. 
 The labor of the latter is not manual, but almost exclusively 
 intellectual, leading also to physical exhaustion. Not such is 
 the labor of the agriculturist. With few exceptions, his labor is 
 as mechanical as the action of a clock. After his subject is 
 once understood, the action of his mind is not required ; his 
 thoughts can scarcely be said to be upon it. A man, for in- 
 stance, in walking, moves his feet mechanically, seemingly with- 
 out the slightest volition. Of course, his thoughts njay be on 
 any other subject ; the solution of a mathematical problem ; or, 
 questions in history, philosophy, and metaphysics. Indeed, how 
 peculiarly favorable to the workings of the meditative mind is 
 the exercise of walking ; far more than the seclusion of the 
 closet ! This gentle physical action seemingly puts the mental 
 machinery into motion ; the vigor and elasticity of the one 
 facilitates corresponding developments in the other. Besides, 
 
 1 . . 
 
 'Who is tbe true gentleman of nobleman ) He whose actions make him so. 
 
by right reason would avoid them, though he was sure 
 
 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 137 
 
 what an enlivening influence is here imparted to the mind, by 
 the beautiful array of nature spread over us in unmeasured love- 
 liness ! Who can inhale the rich odors of her vast domain float- 
 ing on every passing breeze/ or behold the graceful waving of 
 trees and grass, or hear the rich, untaught melody of the 
 feathered creation, during his morning walks, and not experi- 
 ence a fresh impulse of thought in his own bosom ? The indi- 
 vidual that can do it, barely deserves the name of man ; is but 
 little elevated above the brutes. 
 
 Much the same is it with many kinds of manual labor. The 
 housewife will converse or sing when engaged with her needle, 
 or knitting, or cookery, or when bending over her wash-tub, as 
 well as if her hands and fingers were not employed. And is 
 it not the same with the man making hay, using his spade, or 
 holding his plough; and, indeed, in most kinds of rural labor? 
 His muscular powers are applied in the same mechanical order 
 and unstudied precision as his feet move in walking ; his thoughts 
 are wholly unconfined, and they may range on any other sub- 
 ject at pleasure. Yes, when about his accustomed labor, from 
 morning till night, his mind is as free as the atmosphere in 
 which he breathes. In a company of laborers on a farm, one 
 may have his thoughts even among the stars, passing from sun 
 to sun, and from world to world, with the rapidity of the light- 
 ning's flash. At the same moment another may be cogitating 
 on geological formations, taking them in an ascending series, 
 till, in retrospect, he brings into contemplation the mysteries of 
 creative wisdom, thousands and lens of thousands of years ante- 
 rior to our earliest records. A third, filled with poetic inspira- 
 tion, may mould into rhyme or measured cadence tlje deep 
 passions of the soul. Some of our sweetest songs are from the 
 pens of ploughmen. And a fourth may sc^n the eras of the 
 historic page, bringing up in vivid colors a grand panorama of 
 statesmen and warriors — of divines and literati — impressive and 
 instructive as real life. 
 
 Thus, in the case supposed, these several individuals will be 
 pursuing the labor to which their muscular powers are assigned, 
 and still the mind of each one will be intensely absorbed on 
 some matter of science or literature, as if he were in a college 
 hall listening to the lectures of a learned professor. It is be- 
 lieved that the intellect may be so trained, that under no cir- 
 cumstances can it be found more quick in perception, more 
 logical in deduction, or more tenacious in ratiocination, than 
 when we are applying ourselves to the processes of manual 
 labor. So far as we have had experience touching this matter, 
 our testimony is unqualified. If we have ever been favored 
 
 Great poverty is no fault or baseness, but some inconvenience. 
 
tame; so are moral virtues acquired by custom. Aris- 
 
 IS 
 
 a 
 
 138 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 with original or grand conceptions, it has been in moments 
 when our hands were thus mechanically occupied. If we have 
 occasion to concentrate and duly arrange our thoughts on any 
 subject of philosophy, we should find ourselves materially aided 
 by similar influences ; and, if unable to explain the nature of 
 this physical and mental bearing, we well know that such is the 
 fact. There are thousands of things which may not be proved 
 by regular scientific processes,'' yet from experience we know 
 them to be true. So in the present case. Nor is our testimony 
 in this matter unique. Others of sijnilar experience will give a 
 similar testimony ; and with self-made men generally, it will be 
 found, that this is the secret by which they in numerous in- 
 stances have been enabled to outstrip the monotonous routine 
 of study laid down in the programme of the schools. 
 
 If this hypothesis is true, and we believe jt to be, the daily 
 opportunities in rural life for mental culture may be had in dif- 
 ferent degrees by every individual. If on the previous evening 
 the mind is put in suitable trim, that is, impregnated or incited 
 by a desire for knowledge, the supposed mental action in the 
 succeeding seasons of labor will be prompt and vigorous. This 
 preparation is achieved with the utmost ease by devoting the 
 short periods of evening leisure, of which we have spoken, to 
 reading and reflection. Thus what is read in the evening, in 
 the following day, is duly impressed on the mind, so as to be 
 available ever afterward. The idea would certainly be a de- 
 lightful one, were the habit to become general as it may be, 
 that the operatives on a farm are at the same time engaged in 
 a course of mental discipline, yielding a harvest to the soul as 
 abundant as the harvest from the soil which they cultivate. 
 Was it not when Arkwright was stropping his razor, or holding 
 between his left thumb and finger the nasal organ of some rich 
 but brainless dandy, that his soul was meditating upon that 
 wonderful achievement in mechanical philosophy, which has 
 reduced the elements of wealth and society into new orgjiniza- 
 tions ? Was it not when Franklin was setting types, or perform- 
 ing some kindred labor, that his soul was receiving an impress 
 to disarm heaven's artillery of its power ? Was it not when 
 Washington was watching his herds that he became inspired 
 with the elements of martial greatness, that has given him rank 
 among the most renowned Christian patriots ? We might de- 
 scend with analogous interrogatories, in illustration of the sub- 
 ject, to living names as familiar as household woids. How 
 many of the individuals bearing these names received the first 
 germs of their present greatness amidst the clatter of the ma- 
 chine-shop, or the more genial influences of rural occupation ! 
 
 Drinking water aeither makes a man sick, nor in debt, nor his wife a widow. 
 
and the coDqueror of "Leuctra. " It was this," he replied, 
 
 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 139 
 
 em 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 •a 
 ■3 
 
 .a 
 
 Admitting all this to be true, and even much more of a cor- 
 responding character, the subject is only partly seen. There 
 is another view of it scarcely less interesting, and which will be 
 more readily appreciated by some readers. When the mind is 
 thus engrossed with the pursuits of knowledge, bodily toils in a 
 measure will be unheeded. A ceaseless monotony is perfectly 
 antagonistic to human endurance. We involuntarily shrink 
 from the idea of it. It would be difficult to imagine any state, 
 whether appertaining to the body or the mind ; whether of 
 labor or of rest ; whether active or passive in its attributes, 
 however adapted to our imaginings, but will be instinctively 
 avoided, if to be unvaried and pei'petual in its duration. That 
 individual must be extremely ignorant of the science of human 
 life, if he supposes satiety is never attainable ; if he supposes 
 we can never be satisfied with the fruition of a desirable object. 
 Take the most beautiful spot of natural scenery in the wide 
 creation, presenting an ocean of verdure and flowers in every 
 hue— of countless odors inhaled at every breath — of hills and 
 mountains intersecting the distant horizon in every direction — 
 and of a bewildering echo of gurgling rills, of falling cascades, 
 and of the music of birds, and will the eye and the ear tlever 
 become pained with the unchanged exhibition ? No matter if 
 it be a realm of fairy enchantment, such as poets and dreamers 
 have delineated, the I'esult will be the same. Those who doubt 
 the fact have much yet to learn. Suppose one were doomed to 
 spend his lifetime iu one unvarying attitude, without a change 
 of muscle or position, like a marble statue, what could be a 
 greater torture ? Suppose he were doomed forever to subsist 
 on one article of food, no matter if it were a choice luxury, 
 would it not become, as it were, so obnoxious that he would 
 famish and die ? Or suppose he were doomed to fix his eyes 
 in one unaltered gaze upon the most captivating object on earth, 
 would not in time the sight become so painful to him that he 
 might desire to exchange it for a state of blindness ? The 
 witchery of sweet sounds — of graceful motion — of keen wit— or 
 of the prismatic hues, in perpetual conjunction with the senses, 
 will surely overtax the powers of endurance. We are in a world 
 of varied aspect. Everything about us is in a state of transi- 
 tion. The heavens over our heads, and the earth beneath our 
 feet, are ceaselessly changing their positions or their features ; 
 day and night, and the seasons, are coming and departing with 
 all their incidental types and appendages ; and God, in his 
 wisdom and mercy, has adapted all our powers and tastes to 
 this endless vicissitude. 
 
 Now if objects in themselves, by long continuance, become 
 
 Experience and wisdom are the two best fortune-tellers. 
 
and no conSdence witliout integrity ; and he must expect to be 
 
 I 
 
 140 MEANS FOR MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 painful to us, what must be the effect if objects, in themselves 
 painful, are placed, without change or alleviation, in close and 
 bold proximity to us ? How paralyzing is the idea of unlimited 
 servitude — of the monotonous footsteps on the treadmill — and 
 of solitary confinement in the dungeon ! And how exhausting 
 is the triflingly varied toils of unthinking day-laborers on the 
 farm ! We are familiar with these toils ; with the dejected 
 looks and the stiffened limbs with which they are pursued, and 
 even relinquished at the close of day. And chiefly what makes 
 them so repulsive is the soulless energy with which they are 
 performed. As already remarked, they are so well understood, 
 that the mind need not be upon them, and is, of course, usually 
 dormant, unless it be musing on the fatigues attending them. 
 Hence, how common is it that these toils are maintained without 
 animation or apparent pleasure more than though the operatives 
 were lifeless automatons ! The whole physical system is in severe 
 conflict, without any bounding or buoyancy from the resisting 
 action of the soul ; the same as the sledge-hammer falls on the 
 anvil, the intervening iron sullenly receiving the successive im- 
 pressions, yet rendering in return no pleasure, or excitement to 
 renewed exertion. 
 
 It would surely be a desideratum worthy of the philanthro- 
 pist and the philosopher, to devise some means by which a 
 per centage of physical exhaustion in manual labor may be 
 prevented, and by which also cheerfulness and vivacity may be 
 engendered. We believe these means within the reach of every 
 laborer. When his thoughts' are not required for the guidance 
 of his hands, let them be habitually applied to reflection on 
 some matter of science or literature. Of two joint laborers, let 
 one do this, and the other neglect it ; and it will soon be seen 
 that the former will be cheerful and animated, the eye beaming 
 with intelligence, while the latter is sullen and desponding ; 
 and above all, that the former will evince less fatigue and bodily 
 exhaustion at the end of twelve hours of labor than the latter 
 does at the end of ten hours. It is well known that a body of 
 greater specific gravity than water will sink ; but a buoyant 
 body attached to it will en^le it to flbat on the surface. Anal- 
 ogous to this may be the moyancy of the mind, when appUed 
 for that purpose to wearied'-nature. True, this cannot be tested 
 by mathematical demonstration ; but the testimony of every 
 person having had experience therein will be explicit ; so will 
 be that of the person whose habits of observation has made him 
 familiar with the subject. Let the experiment be more general, 
 and while the hardships of rural life will be thus diminished, we 
 shall see also an increase of intelligence ; we shall see plough- 
 
 o 
 
 CD 
 
 S" 
 
 
 I 
 
 S- 
 
 o 
 
 I- 
 
 a. 
 
 A cheerful look, and forgiveness, is the best revenge of an affront. 
 
in the morning, for the space of forty years, supposing a man to 
 
 OS 
 
 t 
 
 ■s 
 "fe. 
 
 HINTS ON THE BENEFITS OF BATHING. 141 
 
 men becoming ripe scholars ; we shall witness in bur halls of 
 legislation the best specimens of statesmanship and eloquence — 
 truth and zeal for the public good — from those whose profession 
 has been to wield the spade, the sickle, and the scythe. 
 
 We live in deeds, not years ; in thought, not breath; 
 
 In feelings, not in figures on the dial. 
 
 We should count time by heart-throbs, when they beat 
 
 For God, for man, for duty. He most lives. 
 
 Who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best. ' 
 
 HINTS ON THE BENEFITS OF BATHING. 
 
 How beautiful the water is I to me 'tis wondrous fair — 
 
 No spot can ever lonely be, if water sparkle there; 
 
 It hath a thousand tongues of mirth, of grandeur or delight, 
 
 And every heart is gladder made, when water greets the sight. 
 
 Allusion has been made in another chapter to the benefits 
 of habitual ablutions ; and it was not there intended to super- 
 sede the occasion for a more full presentation of the subject. 
 What follows is mostly from two articles in the Agriculturist, 
 combined and condensed. It will be of use to others as well as 
 to the families of farmers. 
 
 The practice of bathing, it is universally admitted, is not only 
 an act of cleanliness, but is eminently conducive to health. 
 "With most persons in active life, the delicate pores of the skin 
 soon become closed by the solid matter of the perspiration or 
 the accumulation of dirt, which require frequent ablutions with 
 water, iii order to preserve their natural functions. The mere 
 wearing of flannel and washing the more exposed parts of the 
 body, with the daily use of clean linen, is but an imperfect 
 attempt at cltianliness, without being accompanied by entire 
 immersion of the body in water, or by well rubbing it over with 
 a wet towel, or cloth. 
 
 Bathing, of some kind or other, is not only conducive to 
 cleanliness, but both to the physical and mental health of the 
 individual who practices it. For the body cannot be in a 
 healthy condition, while the proper offices of the skin are in- 
 terfered with, any more than would be the case with any of the 
 other excretory organs, placed under similar circumstances. 
 Nor can the mind, dependent as it is on the organization of the 
 body, escape unharmed, when the animal functions are iniper- 
 
 If you are vexed and angry, you will have two troubles instead of one. 
 
makes him easy six months longer ; but if he sees you at a billiard- 
 
 U2 HINTS ON THE BENEFITS OF BATHING. 
 
 fectly peiformed. Intellectual and moral vigor are universally 
 promoted by the imperceptible, yet controlling influence of the 
 physical system, and he who would increase the former, cannot 
 adopt a safer method than that which tends to preserve or im- 
 prove the health. , 
 
 ' It is imagined by many that constant bathing is but little 
 fitted for this country, owing to the changeableness of our 
 climate ; and, that an attempt to place a sick man in a bath, in 
 any other than the mildest weather, would be to endanger his 
 life instead of restoring him to health. Such apprehensions are 
 unnecessary, and will not exist save in the imaginations of the 
 unduly timid, the ignorant, and the prejudiced. This has been 
 sufficiently proved. Even the cold water bath, such as is used 
 iu the treatment called " hydropathy," is beneficial when ap- 
 plied with judgment ; and it is only when discretion is not 
 exercised, that bathing under any circumstances ever proves 
 injurious. It is believed that one half of the rheumatic twinges, 
 swollen limbs, and cramped joints, would give way to proper 
 confidence and perseverance in this remedy. In short, it must 
 be conceded, that bathing, especially in water at a temperature 
 nearly similar to that of our bodies, is, in itself, one of the most 
 cleanly and health-preserving luxuries, or rather we should say, 
 necessaries of life. 
 
 In using the cold bath, it has generally been supposed that 
 one should enter the water when the body is cool ; and that 
 those who have been heated by exercise and beginnnig to per- 
 spjre, should wait till these effects have subsided. This, how- 
 ever, is found to be erroneous, based on superficial views. For 
 it is a rule, liable to no exception, that moderate exercise ought 
 always to precede cold bathing ; as neither previous rest, nor 
 exercising to a violent degree, is proper on the occasion. 
 
 The best place for cold bathing is in the sea, a clear river, a 
 lake, or a pond ; comparatively a few only, however, have such 
 locations within a convenient distance. In cities, where the 
 best class of houses are fitted up with all the requisite fixtures, 
 the inmates may use cold or warm water at their pleasure. 
 But in the country few are furnished with the means for avail- 
 ing themselves of the advantages to be derived from the prac- 
 tice. To aid farmers generally in adopting some plan for it, at 
 a moderate expense, is certainly an object of no small irapoit- 
 ance. If a bathing-tub of the usual style is too expensive, one 
 made of staves and hoops like a wash-tub, and well painted, 
 only much larger, would be comely in appearance, and would 
 not cost more than two or three dollars. And those to whom 
 this might be too expensive, might procure an iron-bound hun- 
 
 Improve by other men's errors, rather than find fault with them. 
 
Up iiito the rartkest -^eeds ; and instead of vines and olives 
 
 HINTS ON THE BENEFITS OF BATHING. 143 
 
 13 
 
 dred and twenty gallon cask ; cut it in the middle, and wliile 
 one portion would answer as it is for scaldijig hogs, the other 
 half could be scrubbed up and painted, and thus made into a 
 respectable bathing-tub. The cost of one of these casks is but 
 a small sum, and it would last, with proper usage, for ten years. 
 
 Another difficulty may present itself; to wit, a convenient 
 location for the tub, when obtained, especially if the dwelling- 
 house has not a small room that can be permanently appro- 
 priated to its use. Every house ought to have such a room. 
 Or there might be a small building erected, at a moderate ex- 
 pense, in the vicinity of the well, with a kettle set for cooking, 
 at certain seasons of the year, food for farm animals. Here 
 might be the bathing-tub, and the building answer well for 
 both purposes, neither mateiially interfering with the other ; 
 the kettle doing the double duty, heating water for bathing, 
 when warm is wanted; and for cooking, as before mentioned. 
 It would also do well on washing days even for a third purpose. 
 Here, the tub always filled, the temperature of the water, soft- 
 ened by standing, would always be in readiness for use by all 
 requiring it. When the water had become unfit for further 
 bathing, it could be drawn off into the scalding-tub or some 
 other vessel, for any desired use on the premises, and the bath- 
 ing-tub filled again with clean water. Thus using the water, 
 after unfit for bathing, for the garden or other agricultural 
 purposes, the tax for labor in the preparation would be next to 
 nothing. 
 
 The following good-natured, graphic description, from one of 
 the writers in the Agriculturist alluded to, will show how per- 
 sons may do, when unable to do as they would do. During my 
 residence in Ohio, he remarks, I knew tjie wife of a farmer, who 
 witii his boys woi'ked his little farm, and lived comfortably, by 
 dint of the most persevering and patient industry. This woman 
 h:id been born and educated in one of the Atlantic States, and 
 she considered the daily bath of so much importance to health 
 and comfort, that in all her difficulties, it was rarely omitted. 
 Her log house was small and inconvenient, consisting only of 
 two rooms and a wood-shed below, and three small chambers 
 above. The kitchen, as in most farm-houses, was the largest 
 room, and, in one corner of this, she had placed for the winter 
 a hogshead cut down, and screened from sight, when in use, by 
 a bedrcover hung from the joists above. In the summer, it was 
 placed in the wood-shed ; and in this primitive kind of bath she 
 dipped, first her children, and then herself, every morning, while 
 the men were feeding the stock, and the kettle on the fire pre- 
 paring for breakfast. Her neighbors sneered, and wondered 
 
 The applause of the mob or multitude is but a poor comfort. 
 
of the one is long, because he does not know wliat to do with 
 
 144 HINTS ON THE BENEFITS OF BATHING. 
 
 ^ 
 
 liow slie could take so mucli time, before breakfast, too ; but 
 she said, good-naturedly, that in twenty minutes all was fin- 
 ished, and comfort and cleanliness secured for the whole day ; 
 and, certainly a more healthful, merry set of children never 
 rewarded a mother's care. 
 
 The only objection that can be urged against this healthful 
 practice, is prompted by indolence — a cowardly shrinking from 
 the trouble, and mayhap from the chill of the first plunge ; but 
 this grows less and less — habit steps in to aid us, and by rising 
 a few minutes earlier, the busiest man or woman may secure 
 the necessary time. Then the warm glow and brisk, healths 
 ful circulation that succeeds the chill, is an ample repayment for 
 all transient discomfort. The unshrinking use of a coarse crash 
 towel — a short, quick walk in the open air, if possible dii-ectly 
 after, and our word for it, the most delicate of you all will 
 return with such an appetite as you never know going from 
 chamber to breakfast-room, without the application pi'escribed 
 above ; — a prescription that we would enforce by earnest solici- 
 tations, for a trial at least, to those of our readers who wish for 
 a long life and a healthful one. 
 
 On entering a cold bath, the head should first come in con- 
 tact with the water, either by immersion, by being showered 
 upon, or by covering it, a minute or so, with a wet cloth. 
 After this, the bather may plunge into the water headlong. 
 As the immersion will be less felt when it is effected suddenly, 
 and as it is of consequence that the first impression should be 
 uniform over the whole body, the bath ought not to be entered 
 slowly, nor timorously, but with a degree of boldness. A con- 
 trary method, in some constitutions, is dangerous, as it has a 
 tendency to propel the blood from the lower to the upper parts 
 of the body, and thus predisposes to a fit of apoplexy. For 
 these reasons, the shower bath is attended with considerable 
 advantage, because it transmits the water quickly over the 
 whole body. Therefore, while in the water, the bather should 
 not remain inactive, but apply brisk and general friction, and 
 move his arms and legs, by swimming, or otherwise, in order 
 to promote the circulation of the blood from the heart to the 
 extremities. For in all cases, it is extremely imprudent to 
 continue in the bath until the body is attacked with a second 
 chilliness. 
 
 The duration of the immersion ought to be short, and must 
 be. determined by the" bodily constitution and sensation of the 
 individual. In summer, a cold bath may be enjoyed by healthy 
 persons for half an hour or more, while in spring or autumn a 
 few minutes will be sufficient. Under similar circumstances. 
 
 He is the only rich man who understands the use of wealth. 
 
and incentive of virtue ; but to be ambitious of titles, of place, 
 
 THE ART OF SWIMMING. 145 
 
 cold water acts on aged and lean individuals with more violence 
 than on those who are corpulent and young. Hence, an old 
 man of seventy, even in the hottest days of summer, can seldom 
 remain in a cold bath, with safety, longer than ten or fifteen 
 minutes ; whereas, the robust young man of twenty may safely 
 sustain its impressi,on for nearly an hour. 
 
 It seems not necessary to say that after leaving the bath, the 
 bather should immediately wipe himself dry with a coarse towel 
 or cloth. Nor should he afterward sit inactive ; but if the sea- 
 son permit, he ought to take moderate exercise, till the usual 
 circulation, and the customary action of the muscles be restored. 
 Other matters relating to the subject can be determined by each 
 individual as circumstances may arise. 
 
 Traverse the desert, and then ye can tell 
 What treasures exist in the deep cold well ; 
 Sink in despair on the red parch'd earth, 
 And then ye may reckoii what the water is worth. 
 
 THE ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 Thete was one did battle with the storm 
 
 With careless, desperate force ; full many times 
 
 His life was won and lost, as though he reck'd not — 
 
 Ko hand did aid him, and he aided none — 
 
 Alone he breasted the broad wave, alone 
 
 That man was saVd. 
 
 The art of swimming is important to young men in rural life 
 as well as to all others. And the frequency with which it is 
 needful for them to bathe renders it especially desirable, where 
 water is of sufficient depth, that they should riot be unskilled in 
 this fascinating and healthful exercise. While to the person 
 unaccustomed to manual labor it gives vigor and strength of 
 limb and muscle, to the laboring man agility of muscular action 
 not otherwise acquired. And, it has this advantage over other 
 athletic exercises : under judicious management, it is never 
 attended with personal injury ; while on the other hand, the 
 lives of thousands, it may be presumed, are annually saved 
 from accidental drowning by the exercise of it. 
 
 To heap kindnesses upon the nngiateful is the wisest and most cruel revenge. 
 10 
 
he thinks. Thought, then, is the essence of man, and without this we 
 
 S 
 
 146 THE ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 s 
 
 Let a man once thus preserve his own life, the life of a com- 
 panion, of a helpless child or woman, and it will be a subject of 
 complacent reflection forever afterward, as well as a sufficient 
 consideration for the trouble a thousand persons may have had 
 in acqLuiring the art. Girls, as well as boys, ought to be sys- 
 tematically taught to swim, thus rendering them more hardy, 
 and taking care of themselves when in the water, instead of 
 their present fashionable state of dependence on the other sex ; 
 an,d, in cases of emergency, such as frequently occurring, 
 making them instrumental in saving instead of endangering the 
 lives of their fellow- creatures. On these accounts, here and 
 there may be found one of our most accomplished ladies an 
 adept in the delightful amusement. 
 
 It is unfortunate that prejudice has so generally excluded 
 females from an exercise so healthful to body and mind, so 
 useful in times of danger, and so easily acquired, particularly as 
 they would learn it more easily than males, and as the exercise 
 of swimming, as said by medical men, would be peculiarly useful 
 to certain functions peculiar to females. In exposed situations, 
 a loose dress from the neck to the ankles, would satisfy all 
 claims of propriety. It would by no means give them a mas- 
 culine air ; but, it would give them that kind of confidence in 
 an element, for which the human figure and organs are not 
 adapted, that would render them greatly attractive to persons 
 of the best taste. 
 
 One of the first things a person is to learn on entering the 
 water is to breathe through the nose, as soon as the head rises 
 above the surface, instead of opening the mouth, as all are in- 
 clined to do after a suspension of breath. This is to prevent 
 the water from getting into the throat, which not only produces 
 an unpleasant sensation — a tendency to suffocation; and to 
 keep the specific gravity of the body lighter than water, as it 
 naturally is ; whereas, if water were admitted freely into the 
 lungs, it would not be lighter. Of course the natural tendency 
 of the body would then be to sink. All that would prevent it 
 from sinking is that peculiar motion of the arms and legs in 
 which consists the art of swimming ; this motion is striking the 
 water alternately with the hands and feet — which, like oars, 
 row a person forward — the body being kept a little oblique, 
 the more easily to preserve the head erect and the mouth above 
 the surface. 
 
 . The art of swimming is easily learnt, if the person is calm 
 and collected. There are but few rules to be observed. The 
 process is perfectly simple. But if there is any trepidation or 
 alarm, or confusion of mind, the chance is that these directions 
 
 There is no more fiiithful or pleasant friend than a good book. 
 
 •a 
 B. 
 
 a 
 
is highest. The true courage is cool and calm. The bravest 
 
 THE ART OF SWIMMING. 147 
 
 ■will be disregarded, and that failure will be the consequence. 
 But as soon as the mind is relieved from fear, and one feels 
 himself safe, no more difficulty vpill be experienced in swimming 
 than in walking. The operation of fear upon our muscular 
 action is most extraordinary. It is well known that one on the 
 upper cliffs of a high mountain precipice, or walking on the roof 
 of a high edifice along the edge, if he gaze downward, will be 
 liable to fall. But were it not for fear, or a peculiar sensation 
 in the head called dizziness, he would be no more liable to fall 
 than if he were walking along at the base of these elevations. 
 It is much the same in the water. Other land animals, when 
 cast into the water, swim naturally — much as thfey walk ; sel- 
 dom is one drowned, unless under the pressure of a strono- 
 current, or from exhaustion. True, ipan in swimming requires 
 a different position, a,nd a different action of -the limbs, from 
 that in walking, but both are acquired without difficulty, and in 
 a very short period. It may be done half a dozen times over 
 while the habit is acquired of riding on horseback with grace 
 and ease. 
 
 Many of the advantages derived from swimming are the same 
 as those received in bathing, without a knowledge of this art. 
 But it is apparent that the pleasure in bathing would be far 
 greater could there be an indulgence in' the other at the same 
 time, in bathing upon the sea-shore, or upon the margin of 
 rivers, lakes, or ponds, without a knowledge of it, there is cer- 
 tainly a degree of hazard to life, which cannot fail, in a measure, 
 to be viewed with unpleasant apprehensions. This must in all 
 situations be the case, where tliere is not a consciousness of 
 exemption from all danger. Even the possibility of peril to 
 timid minds will be a perpetual source of disquietude. To 
 thousands of persons there would be no satisfaction on board a 
 steamboat or in a locomotive railroad car ; indeed, there would 
 be a perpetual sensation of alarm, till familiarized to the power 
 that may be exercised over steam. So it is to persons in the 
 water unable to swim. And how anxious parents are for the 
 safety of their children, unable to do it, when in the act of 
 bathing ! Besides, those Who can swim may remain in the 
 water longer than those who cannot. The exercise afforded in 
 swimming, together with the mental excitement, produces an 
 animal warmth, that prevents for a long period all liability to 
 chills. And there is a correspondingly increased advantage to 
 health, not to be overlooked. But, as swimming calls into violent 
 action a greater number of muscles than almost any other kind 
 of labor, it quickly induces fatigue, and should therefore not be 
 continued too long. Each individual, according to his age or 
 
 B 
 
 He who loves to employ himself well can never want something to do. 
 
situation, saw him, at last, fall dead at her feet. With the greatest 
 
 148 THE ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 health, must judge for himself how far it can with safety be 
 practiced, 
 
 It is during the season of summer alone that most persons 
 can with propriety indulge in this species of exercise. The 
 savage, indeed, is known to do it at all seasons of the year ; in 
 the middle of winter, in northern climates, to plunge into the 
 coldest streams of running water, without detriment. But 
 persons reared amidst the luxuries and refinements of civilized 
 society, cannot expect to do it without endangering life and 
 health too. It is important to select for the amusement of 
 swimming a pure running stream of sufficient depth, and if 
 possible, with a sandy shore or bottom ; for, if the bottom be 
 rough and uneven, whether it be the margin of a standing or 
 flowing water, the exercise will be less pleasant, if not danger- 
 ous. And stagnant, and thickly-shaded pools, particularly in 
 the neighborhood of marshes, ought carefully to be avoided. 
 
 On leaving the water, much the same course should be taken 
 as on leaving it after bathing simply. The body should be 
 wiped entirely dry, by hard rubbing, so as to occasion friction. 
 Hence, a coarse towel is far better than a fine one. The friction 
 thus produced, preserves a free circulation of the blood. And 
 after dressing, it is better to take gentle exercise, either by 
 walking or moderate manual labor. To sit down or remain 
 inactive after the exercise of swimming, would be extremely 
 hazardous, and should never be allowed. 
 
 The art of swimming has been viewed with so much interest, 
 that the greatest philosophers have written treatises upon it. 
 Among the number, Saltzman, Saint Pierre, and Franklin, may 
 be named. The latter made a calculation, based on the specific 
 gravity of the human body, how a person, unable to swim, 
 accidentally thrown into the water, can best be preserved from 
 sinking. We have not space for a detail of his experiments. 
 The conclusion only will be given. He says the head is spe- 
 cifically the lightest portion of a human figure ; consequently, 
 if there is no obstruction from struggling, or an injudicious 
 movement of the hands and feet, on falling into the water, the 
 position wilt be erect ; but, that the water will rise above the 
 mouth and nose, so as to prevent breathing, leaving the skull, 
 say from the eyes, only projecting from the surface. Again, the 
 specific gravity of the front part of the head is lighter than the 
 back part. Therefore, when thus standing erect in the water, 
 let the head be thrown back so that the projective portion will 
 be the face ; the mouth and nose thus relieved, the process of 
 breathing may be carried on for a considerable time — perhaps 
 till adequate relief is furnished. Let any person fasten a piece 
 
 A thoosand things are well forgot for peace and quietness' sake. 
 

 because every one finds himself at ease in his company. Polite- 
 
 
 THE LAND OF OUR BIRTH. 149 
 
 of iron or lead to one end of a straight stick, thus making the 
 
 ^ 
 
 specific gravity of that end the heaviest; cast the stick into the 
 
 Q 
 m 
 
 .2 
 
 water, and it will assume an er«ct posture, the, heavy end down- 
 
 EC 
 
 ward, and the other rising perhaps a little above the surface. 
 
 B* 
 
 a 
 
 This is the philosophy of Dr., Franklin's theory. 
 
 g- 
 
 o 
 
 This is the purest exercise of health, 
 
 
 
 
 The kind refresher of the summer-heals ; 
 
 
 i 
 
 Nor when cold winter keens the brightening flood. 
 
 8 
 
 1 
 
 Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. 
 
 s- 
 
 ^ 
 
 Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserved, 
 
 s. 
 
 !3 
 
 By the bold swimmer, in the swift elapse 
 
 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 
 
 §■' 
 
 ^ 
 
 Knit into force ; and the same Roman arjn, 
 
 s- 
 
 1 
 
 That rose victorious o'er the conquered earth, 
 
 » 
 
 g- 
 
 First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. 
 
 1* 
 
 o 
 
 Even from the body's purity, the mind 
 
 i' 
 
 a 
 
 Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 
 
 DD 
 
 B 
 
 1 
 
 THE LAND OF OUR BIRTH. 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 «^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 r 
 
 "a 
 
 There is not a, spot in the wide-peopled earth 
 
 8 
 
 So dear to the heart as the land of our birth ; 
 
 1 
 
 o 
 
 t 
 
 'Tis the home of our childhood ! the beautiful spot 
 
 H 
 
 Which memory retains when'all else is forgot. 
 
 « 
 
 2 
 
 May the blessings of God 
 
 1. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Ever hallow the sod, 
 
 1 
 
 And its valleys and hills by our children be trod. 
 
 E 
 
 
 Can the language of strangers, in accents unknown, 
 
 
 'S 
 
 Send a thrill to our bosom like that of our own ? 
 
 §■ 
 
 o. 
 
 The face may be fair, and the smile may be bland. 
 
 s 
 
 «^ 
 
 But it breathes not the tones^ of our dear native land. 
 
 There's no spot on earth 
 
 Like the land of our birth. 
 Where heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth ! 
 
 5*" 
 
 Neither great poverty nor great riches will hear reason. 
 
t)f the Emperor Peter. The latter might attract his eye ; but 
 
 (D 
 
 a 
 
 150 NEATNESS IN FARMING, 
 
 How sweet is the language which taught us to blend 
 The dear name of parent, of husband and friend ; 
 Which taught us to lisp on our mother's soft breast 
 The ballads she sung as she rocked us to rest ! 
 
 May the blessings of God 
 
 Ever hallow the sod, 
 And its valleys and hills by our children be trod ! 
 
 NEATNESS IN FARMING. 
 
 How mean the order and perfection songht 
 Id the best product of the human thought, 
 Compar'd to the great harmony that reigns 
 In what the spirit of the world ordains ! 
 
 A WRITER who should recommend neatness to any other per- 
 son than a farmer, or to any other description of labor but ag- 
 riculture, would probably be laughed at for spending his time 
 in vindicating truths that are self-evident, and in enforcing hab- 
 its which commend themselves to the taste and the common 
 sense of every decent person. What, recommend neatness to a 
 woman who, if she were to be destitute of it — if her face and 
 hands were dirty — if her clothes were not only dirty, but tat- 
 tered — if filth characterized her entire domestic organization — 
 and especially if her cookery partook of the general character 
 in the preceding specifications, would be to us an object of un- 
 mitigated disgust ; past all reclamation ; and of course all efforts 
 for it lost ! Or, suppose we should undertake to frame a syl- 
 logistic argument in favor of neatness in the manufacture of 
 shoes and boots ; — in the making of wearing apparel ; in the 
 erection of fences and dwelling-houses ; in the construction of 
 household furniture and carriages ; or, indeed, in any kind of 
 mechanical productions, and how useless would be our labof ! 
 If there were to be a want of neatness in any of these matters, 
 the operator would receive no patronage, and would be a re- 
 proach to his craft. 
 
 Yet among a very large portion of agriculturists, if one of 
 their number were generally guilty of what is called neatness in 
 the management of his farm, he would become obnoxious to 
 their most serious animadversion. If the fences about his house 
 were firm and well painted, and the gates well secured by bin- 
 
 No pleasure is a better pennyworth than that which virtue yields. 
 
give advice, but we cannot give conduct. However, they that will 
 
 NEATNESS IN FARMING. ifii 
 
 £ 
 
 1 
 
 1^ 
 
 ges and fastenings, it would be with them a matter of marvel 
 how he could afford to do it ! If his chains, and ploughs, and 
 harrows, and axes, and hoes, and wagons, and rakes, were 
 packed away in a proper place, when not in use, they would 
 ask with a sneer how he ever found time to do anything else ! 
 If his barns and his stables did not constantly exhibit scenes of 
 confusion and disorder, and if the grounds about his house did 
 not, in fresh ornaments, resemble his cattle-yard, they would 
 imagine he would be ruined by his pride ! And if he should 
 make his appearance at church, or elsewhere in public, with a 
 horse well cleaned and sleek, with boots black and well pol- 
 ished ; with a suit of clothes free from dust and barn-dirt; the 
 collar of the coat neatly folded outward instead of being turned 
 inward, the climax of their apprehensions would find utterance 
 in exclama;tion, that he was turning gentleman, instead of be- 
 ing a plain farmer ! 
 
 Now there is no poetry — no hyperbole in all this ; it is plain 
 matter of fact. Ride through our agricultural districts, and 
 see if neatness on their premises might not throw them into a 
 panic ! If there is ambition among them, it would resemble 
 that formerly among scholars, to see who could be most slov- 
 enly ; when it was thought that genius was incompatible with 
 personal comeliness ; and that great learning was inversely pro- 
 portioned to the decencies of social life. Such passports to lit- 
 erary eminence are now exploded ; and the public does not 
 believe, now-a-flays, that the wearing a shirt three months with- 
 out being washed, and boots twelve months without being 
 brushed, in the least degree quicken the genius to unfold the 
 mysteries of philosophy or to write poetry. Our quondam 
 scholars have been driven to abandon all this nonsense ; to de- 
 pend on their brains rather than on old and dirty clothes 
 for literary eminence. Our slovenly farmers ought to follow 
 their example ! 
 
 It might seem that the portion of agriculturists alluded to 
 would need no other inducement to effect a reformation in this 
 matter, than the example of another portion of them who have 
 already effected it in a most thorough manner. It is a gratify- 
 ing fact, that now may be found not a few conspicuous excep- 
 tions to the strictures above made. It might seem that even a 
 casual glance in passing along by two farms — one the picture 
 of neatness, and the other the picture of bad taste and sloven- 
 liness — virould induce the proprietor of the latter to follow the 
 footsteps of the other. Fortunately, the reformation is extend- 
 ing itself. Every year furnishes new evidence of it. The num- 
 ber of tidy farmers is Constantly increasing. This is the spirit 
 
 There k no better advice tban to look always at the issue of things. 
 
*" 
 
 go through, and lay him out work he can never finish. The 
 
 •i 
 
 152 NEATNESS IN FARMING. 
 
 of the age. This is one of the results of the rising character 
 of American farmers ; of their growing intelligence. It looks 
 well ! It furnishes evidence that they are beginning to respect 
 themselves and their vocation ; and that their families will not 
 be ashamed of it. A few years more of similar den;ionsttations 
 will give a new aspect to these important interests. 
 
 The idea that an attention to the particulars specified, and 
 others that might be named, will consume all the profits of a 
 farm, is an error. The actual cost in money will be tiiiiing. 
 The most of it will be labor performed at times when nothing 
 would be done. A few hirjts will be given to show how it may 
 be effected. It is admitted that the individual has no cash that 
 can well be spared for such things. But he has a wood-lot;, 
 he has a team. Let him, in the leisure, carry a load of wood 
 to the blacksmith, and procure what iron-work is wanted. Let 
 him take a few loads to market, and get the lumber needed. Let 
 him take a few more, and get paint and oil. In stormy weath- 
 er, let him work up enough of his lumber into palings for fence 
 about his house. In the spring of the year, let him take a day 
 and put it up, using the broken fragments of the old fence for 
 fuel. To secure the services of the painter for applying the 
 paint already obtained, go and plough his garden for him. In 
 some such way he may, in a year or two, entirely change the 
 complexion of his establishment without being a dollar in cash 
 thp poorer for it. Nor is this all. He acquires the habit of 
 seeing how the leisure can be used ; how money can be earned, 
 too ; so that when these improvements are completed,, by the 
 same mode of operation, the avails are converted into cash and 
 laid up. Any one may perceive that such may be the conse- 
 quence. Hence, instead of being impoverished by this attention 
 to appearances, in five years' time he actually begins to show 
 signs of thrift and prosperity, that in his old course never would 
 have been realized. 
 
 Such have actually been the results in cases well known. A 
 writer in the Cultivator says, " Some of the very best farmers 
 with whom we are acquainted — ^whose eminent success and 
 heavy profits separate them, in this respect, in bold distinctness 
 from the rest of their neighbors; — are patterns of neatness ; and 
 the touch of their hand in the expulsion of every kind of nui- 
 sance is visible all over their farms. Their door-yar4s sho^v 
 that the master is ' at home ;' the barn-yard, which is not so 
 near the house that all the butter and cheese manufactured is 
 flavored with the effluvia, exhibits the same neatness, even where 
 all the refuse of other places is collected for enriching in due 
 time the rest of the farm. A farmer of our acquaintance, with 
 
 He who pretenda to be everybody's particular friend, is nobody's. 
 
and those men wlio destroy a healthful constitution of body by intem- 
 
 NEATNESS IN FARMING. 153 
 
 one hundred and sixty acres, in whose farm-yard we could 
 scarcely ever discover the wisp of straw in the wrong place, re- 
 marked, ' 0, I don't attempt to make a great deal from my 
 farm — I expend so much in improvements, that my clear profits 
 are only about two thousand dollars a year.' Another of those 
 neat farmers, in whose fields cockle and chess obtain no foot- 
 hold, nor along whose fences a solitary elder-bush or nettle is 
 ever seen, raised twenty-seven hundred dollars worth of farm 
 produce at the prices of 1844; and both of these farmers live 
 in Western New York, where prices are comparatively low, 
 entirely away from the peculiar advantages of market which 
 nearness to great cities gives, which is an important circum- 
 stance." 
 
 From little matters let us pass to less, 
 And lightly touch the mysteries of di'eas ; 
 The outward forms the inner man reveal — • 
 We guess the pulp before we eat the peel. 
 
 There is no intention to recommend farmers to become dan- 
 dies in their own personal appearance. It would be in bad 
 taste for them to dress as it may be proper for merchants to 
 do. While they should scorn to be oifensive to the most sen- 
 sitive, from disregard to cleanliness and comely attire, it would 
 render them ridiculous, if they were to appear on their farms 
 in clothes too good to admit of attending to the labors of their 
 occupation. Both the quality and the color of garments should 
 be selected in reference of their contemplated exposure to injury. 
 If a merchant were to appear in his office with clothes suitable to 
 be worn in the labor upon a farm, and the farmer were to appear 
 amidst his daily avocations with a new suit of fine black broad- 
 cloth suitable for the office of the merchant, both would show 
 bad taste, and become liable to ridicule. And it would be 
 equally unreasonable to expect that the farmer will have his 
 horses as sleek and shining, and his carriage as well varnished, 
 as the gentleman who employs a man solely to have the care 
 of the- stable. And while the farmer should cause his cattle- 
 stalls and pig-pens to be frequently cleaned and rendered inof- 
 fensive ; yet no reasonable person would recommend him to 
 have the latter fitted up to resemble, in appearance, the sum- 
 mer-house of a garden. There is a medium in all these things ; 
 and good sense will dictate to any one what that medium is. 
 No person can be more averse than the author to extravagant 
 expenditures, in the support of silly or fantastic fooleries. 
 
 Let him speak who receives ; let the giver hold his peace. 
 
the proud, nor the fashioDable, but the society of the intelligent 
 
 164 THE POSITION OF THE AMERICAN FARMER, 
 
 whether on the farm or in the house — whether in the city or 
 the country. 
 
 Nature makes her happy home with man 
 Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed, 
 With its own rill, or on its spangled bed. 
 
 I 
 
 THE POSITION OF THE AMERICAN FARMER. 
 
 This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 
 
 And guilty cities, never knew ; the life, 
 
 Led by primeval ages, unoorrupt. 
 
 When angels dwelt, and God himself, with man 1 
 
 Since preparing «the chapter on agricultural wealth, the au- 
 thor has seen an Address before the New York State Agricul- 
 tural Society, by the Hon. Josiah Quincy, Jr., of Boston, so 
 replete with sound sense, so much in accordance with his own 
 views, and particularly as expressed in that chapter, he is in- 
 duced to transcribe a few paragraphs from the address. In 
 doing this, he would recommend his readers to peruse and study 
 the whole of it. Such productions cannot be too much read. 
 They serve to drive away the films that mar the vision of super- 
 ficial thinkers. This address should be printed and gratuitously 
 circulated as a tract. 
 
 What, then, says he, is the pbsition of the American farmer, 
 when compared with that of the merchant, the politician, the 
 lawyer ? Should he be content with his lot for himself and his 
 children? Ur should he leave his occupation and adopt some 
 other ? Like every other position, that of the farmer has its 
 dark side as well as its bright one. And to decide on its com- 
 parative advantages, we must inquire what is tlie object of man's 
 existence; and how he shall attain the end of liis being ? 
 
 To these questions, history and revelation, the world around 
 us, and the spirit within us, answer, thiit the object of man's 
 existence is happiness. Happiness here, and happiness forever. 
 And the condition of that happiness is the diligent and proper 
 exercise of his affections and his faculties. If this be th6 case, 
 dogs the situation of the American farmer offer a fair opportu- 
 nity of insuring this happiness ? 
 
 Keep aloof from all quarrels ; be neither a witness nor a party. 
 
vioes, it 19 of both genders ; yet, because wounded vanity, or slighted 
 
 THE POSITION OP THE AMERICAN FARMER. 155 
 
 « 
 
 
 P. 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 03 
 
 To be happy is the object of hfe, and all that the world can 
 give toward it, is health and competence. "Health of body is 
 above all riches, and a strong body is above infinite wealth." 
 And where is health to be found ? There is no need of an 
 audible answer. Look around on an assembly from the rural 
 districts of the country, and we shall see bright eyes and bloom- 
 ing cheeks, as well as strong arms and untiring strength, giving 
 testimony that earth's first blessing is bestowed upon those who 
 labor upon her bosom. 
 
 But health is often undervalued by its possessor, or only ap- 
 preciated when lost. Wealth, the more obvious and immediate 
 reward of labor, is the chief pursuit of the active. And here the 
 farmer thinks he has a right to complain. The merchant will 
 sometimes make moie in a year than he can make in a lifetime ; 
 and it is not wonderful that he sometimes asks, would it not be 
 better to leave small rewards, though regular and certain, for 
 the chance of obtaining greater ? To decide this question, we 
 must ask, WJiat is the price he pays ? What is the reward he 
 obtains ? 
 
 What is the price he pays ? To say nothing of his moral 
 eixposures, in the great majority of cases, health of body and 
 serenity of mind. Follow such a one into the crowded streets, 
 or the close workshop. His strength for a time sustains him, 
 but confinement and bad air soon deprive him of his healthful 
 energy, and disease and premature decay become too often his 
 portion. But supposing health can be preserved, where is his 
 serenity of mind ? 
 
 The risks attendant on rapid accumulation are always in pro- 
 portion to the chances of success. The farmer sows his seed, 
 and has no doubt but that the harvest will repay him. But he 
 who embarks in speculations tliat promise sudden and great 
 wealth, knows that he may be " sowing the wind to reap the 
 whirlwind." And the constant fear of such a result imbitters 
 his days and renders his nights restless. And if attained, suc- 
 cess gives but Httle satisfaction. The higher the rise, the wider 
 the horizon ; the greater the accumulation, the more exorbitant 
 the desire. And this is not the extent of the evil. A total 
 want of independence is too often the result. Few men in our 
 community have those resources that will enable them to carry 
 on extensive operations on their own means. Almost all depend 
 on borrowing, and the borrower is the servant of the lender. 
 
 But, even if success should be the portion of the aspirant for 
 riches, when is he to attain it ? Does it come forward to meet 
 him ? Years of anxiety may be repaid by wealth ; but how 
 seldom is this the case ! Moi'e than ninety in every hundred. 
 
 Keep money when you are young,. that you may have it when you are old. 
 
Virgil owes almost as much to Theocritus, in his Pastorals, as to 
 
 .a 
 
 
 156 THE POSITION OF THE AMERICAN FARMER. 
 
 even in regular mercantile pursuits, fail. There are but few 
 capital prizes in this lottery. The name of the fortunate holder 
 may be seen at every corner, but where are the ninety and nine 
 who draw blanks ? And if attained, how uncertain its posses- 
 sion ! Wealth " gotten by vanity," by which I suppose Solo- 
 mon meant by speculation, " shall be diminished, but he that 
 gathereth by labor shall increase," is a doctrine as true now as 
 when first delivered, and is one which the experience of every 
 age tends to corroborate. 
 
 And after all, what is the advantage of gi'eat wealth, or what 
 is great wealth itself? It exists only in cpmparison. " A man 
 is as well off," said the great capitalist of the United States, 
 " who is only worth half a million of dollars, as he would be if he 
 were rich." And one of the satirical papers of the day tells us 
 that when Baron Rothschild, the Jewish banker, read that the 
 income of Louis Philippe was only fifty dollars a minute, his 
 eyes filled with tears, for he was not aware of the existence of 
 such destitution. After the comforts of life are supplied, wealth 
 becomes merely an imaginary advantage, and its possession does 
 not confer any materiSl for happiness, which an industrious and 
 forehanded farmer does not possess. " We will conquer all 
 Italy," sard Pyrrhus, to his prime minister, " and then we will 
 pass into Asia ; we will overrun lier kingdoms, and then we 
 will wage war upon Africa, and when we have conquered all, 
 we will sit down quietly and enjoy ourselves." " And why," 
 replied the minister, " should we not sit down and enjoy our- 
 selves without taking all this trouble ?" And why may not 
 you, it may be said to many an aspirant after wealth, enjoy in 
 reality all you seek, in your present condition ? 
 
 " Give me neither poverty nor riches," was the prayer of one 
 of the sages of antiquity. And Lord Bacon, the wisest man of 
 modern times, says, " Seek not proud riches, but rather such as 
 thou mayest get justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and 
 leave contentedly." And can there be a truer description of a 
 farmer's fortune ? There is no greater independence than that 
 possessed by the contented, forehanded farmer. " Tell your 
 master," said a Roman general, to the ambassador of the King 
 of Persia, who came to bribe him with great wealth, and found 
 him washing the vegetables that were to constitute his dinner 
 with his own hands, " tell your master that all the gold in 
 Persia can never bribe the man who can contentedly live upon 
 turnips." 
 
 The answer was as true in philosophy, as it was elevated in 
 patriotism. To be happy man must limit his desires. And 
 when he has suflScient for his needs, should remember that the 
 
 I 
 
 He who ploughs his land, and breeds cattle, spins gold. 
 
exhaustless. In all the ebbings and the flowings of his genius, in 
 
 THE POSITION OF THE AMERICAN FARMER. 157 
 
 m 
 
 3 
 
 US 
 
 I 
 
 .S 
 
 temptations and perplexities incident to overgrown wealth more 
 than counterbalance its seeming advantages. Health of body 
 and competence of estate are all the requisites for organic hap- 
 piness that the world can bestow. And to say that agricultural 
 pursuits are eminently calculated to insure these, is only to reite- 
 rate the language of past ages, and to repeat the testimony of 
 our own. If you leave such pursuits, the hazard increases as 
 the profit augments. The amount of the premium is always 
 proportioned to the greatness of the risk. 
 
 But health and the conveniences of life are not all that a man 
 requires to make him happy. He desires to be tiseful, he wishes 
 to be esteemed. And what profession can boast of a higher 
 claim to utility than that of the farmer? The greater part of 
 mankind must be agriculturists, and on their characters the 
 well-being of every state must depend. Our free institutions 
 are valued, but how shall they be preserved ? By the virtue of 
 the people. History gives no other answer. No truth is more 
 clearly emblazoned on her pages than that if a nation would be 
 free, they must be intelligently virtuous. And here the agri- 
 cultural class becomes of the first importance to the state. The 
 influence of a virtuous yeomanry on her character, like that of 
 the air on the individual, is seen in the strength of those who 
 are unconscious of its presence. 
 
 The agricultural life is one eminently calculated for human 
 happiness and human virtue. But let no other calling or pur- 
 suit of honest industry be despised or envied. One cannot say 
 unto another, " I have no need of thee ;" and to every one there 
 are compensations inade that render all, in a great degree, satis- 
 fied with their lot. Envy not the wealth of the merchant ; it 
 has been won by anxieties that you never knew, and is held by 
 so frail a tenure as to deprive its possessor of perfect security 
 and perfect peace. While your slumbers have been sound, his 
 have been disturbed by calculating chances, by fearful anticipa- 
 tions, by uncertainty of results. The reward of your labor is 
 sure. He feels that an hour may strip him of his possessions, 
 and turn him and his family on the world in debt and penury. 
 
 Envy not the learning of the student. The hue on his cheek 
 testifies of the vigils by which it has been attained. He has 
 grown pale over the midnight lamp. He has been shut up 
 from the prospect of nature, while sound sleep and refreshing 
 breezes have been your portion and your health. 
 
 Envy not the successful statesman. His name may be in 
 every one's mouth. His reputation may be the property of his 
 country, but envy and detraction have marked him. His plans 
 are thwarted, his principles attacked, his ends misrepresented. 
 
 He who abandons his poor kindred, God will forsake him. 
 
and scatter blessings on all around him. A warm 
 
 
 158 THE POSITION OF THE AMERICAN FARMER. 
 
 And if he .attain to the highest station, it is to feel that his 
 power only enables him to make one ungrateful, and hundreds 
 his enemies, for every favor he can bestow. 
 
 Envy no one. The situation of an independent^ farmer stands 
 among the first, for liappiness and virtue. It is the one to 
 which statesmen and warriors have retired, to find, in the con- 
 templation of the works of nature, that serenity which more 
 conspicuous stations could not impart. It is the situation in 
 which God placed his peculiar people in the land of Judea, and 
 to which all the laws and institutions of his great lawgiver had 
 immediate reference. And when, in the fullness of time, the 
 privileges of the chosen seed were to be extended to all his 
 children, it was to shepherds, abiding in the field, that the glad 
 tidings of great joy were first announced. Health of body, 
 serenity of mind, and competence of estate, wait upon this hon- 
 orable calling ; and in giving these, it gives all that the present 
 can bestow, v^hile it opens, through its influence, the path to 
 Heaven. , 
 
 The fall of kings, 
 The rage of nations, and the crush of states. 
 Move not the man who, from the world escaped. 
 In still retreats and flowery solitudes, 
 To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, 
 And day to day, through the revolving year ; 
 Admiring, sees her in her every shape ; 
 Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart ; 
 Takes what the liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 
 
 He who peeps through a key hole may see what will vex him. 
 
inflicted, not on himself, but on others, the pretext of his 
 
 t 
 
 J3 
 
 -a 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 
 'f 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 For us the winds do blow ; 
 The earth doth rest, Heaven move, and fountains flow. 
 Nothing we see but means our good, 
 As our delight, or as our treasure ; 
 The whole is either our cupboard of food. 
 Or cabinet of pleasure. 
 
 There are but few subjects on whicb so rnucli is said and 
 written, and yet so imperfectly understood, as the practice of 
 what passes under the general appellation of amusements. Of 
 some sort or other, they are maintained in the varied conditions 
 of life ; among savages as well as in civilized society. The 
 term is by no means confined to theatrical exhibitions, the ball- 
 room dance, horse-racing, a game of cards, or anything else of 
 a kindred character. It embraces whatever may be adopted to 
 give elasticity to the mind when overtaxed with any pressure 
 of thought ; or to give vigor arid gracefulness to muscular ac- 
 tion. The little girl, who jumps the rope ; the young lady, 
 who passes an hour at shuttlecock ; the little bOy, who sports 
 his sled on the hill-side covered with ice ; or the youth, who 
 adopts the more manlike locomotive exercise with his skates, 
 are examples in illustration of our position. Indeed, much that 
 comes under the name of physical education is a species of 
 amusement. 
 
 With this preliminary explanation, it may be affirmed that 
 most persons, if not all, need amusements ; and, if those who 
 are accustomed, from honest religious principle, to denounce 
 everything so designated, understood the philosophy on which 
 their use is predicated, they would cease to denounce, indiscrim- 
 inately, many usages called amusements. Much of the preju- 
 dice which many Christian people feel on the subject is natural, 
 and proceeds from the best of motives. It is well known, that 
 there are the most unpardonable excesses with some persons in 
 their amusements ; that some amusements, in themselves inno- 
 cent, are perverted to purposes the most ruinous to the best 
 interests of man ; and, that there is a propensity with multi- 
 tudes of persons to neglect useful labor and occupation, and 
 make amusements, as it were, the main business of life. The 
 good citizen, as well as the conscientious Christian, deplores 
 
 A hearty good- will never wants time to make itself manifest. 
 
k 
 
 the common error of those who, ■when they had the power to enjoy, 
 
 160 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 everything, of the sort, and should not fail to devise means to 
 prevent it. Still, it is worthy of consideration, whether an in- 
 discriminate denunciation will lead to such a result. Men have 
 become accustomed, on all subjects, to investigate for them- 
 selves ; and to receive no hypothesis simply on the authority 
 of other persons, especially if opposed to any of their own pre- 
 conceived opinions or social habits. They would, of course, 
 refer to the apothegms of Solomon, that there is for everything 
 a season — a time to weep, and a time to laugh ; a time to 
 mourn, and a time t6 dance. Reference is not made to these 
 apothegms so much for authority in setthng any controverted 
 point in the present discussion, as to show that three thousand 
 years since man was familiar with the varied expressions of 
 human passion as he now is ; and, also, that one of the most 
 prevalent amusements of the present day was then well known, 
 and referred to as being in general use. 
 
 It is believed that the cause of truth and good morals is never 
 promoted by dogmatical assumptions. Truth rests on a better 
 foundation. It seeks no alliance with superficial diplomatists. 
 It manifests no sympathy for such as set themselves up as 
 the exclusive umpires of public opinion. And, especially, it 
 never fails to repudiate all denunciations from any doubtful au- 
 thority. Hence, the most successful advocacy of good morals 
 appeals to the good sense of the community ; it spreads out its 
 argument in forms that carry interest to every bosom — in 
 colors recognized by every eye — and, on well-established prin- 
 ciples that cannot fail of carrying conviction in every logical 
 mind. It treats the subject of amusements, as all other sub- 
 jects should be treated, on general principles — it treats them 
 in their adaptation to certain conditions of human life ; but in 
 ho case uttering indiscriminate condemnation of everything 
 bearing the name, because, in some cases, what is termed 
 amusement, is peiTerted to the grossest ends. It is difficult to 
 name an object but what has been abused. Oftentimes those 
 the most excellent in themselves, are perverted the most ; and 
 it would denote a mind miserably susceptible of just apprehen- 
 sion or critical analysis to denounce a principle in physics or 
 ethics, simply because there has been a wrong application of it. 
 Has not health, the basis of personal beauty and personal hap- 
 piness, been vilely abused ? Have not splendid talents, the pass- 
 ports and the watchwords to eminence in society, been grossly 
 prostituted to the vilest purposes ? And have not wealth and 
 power been desecrated thousands of times ? Nay, more ; lihs 
 the ermine of judicial dignity, or the panoply of the sacerdotal 
 office, never been seized by the licentious and the hypocritical ? 
 
 The truest content is that which no man can deprive you of. 
 
rudder, she can neither fight with effect, nor fly with adroit- 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. jei 
 
 g, 
 
 An object or a usage in social life may have become so gen- 
 erally abused — may have become so ruinous in its results — may 
 be so liable or convenient, under the most guarded auspices, to 
 such a perversion, it may be a matter of prudence and wisdom 
 to place it under the ban of universal proscription. Of this 
 class might be named every usage that is generally prostituted 
 to gambling — a confirmed habit for which is the most despotic 
 attribute ever leading captive a rational mind. While it leads 
 to the ruin of health, to the ruin of fortune, to the ruin of do- 
 mestic peace, the confirmed tendency to it is so fascinating and 
 so bewildering, that it is nearly impossible to resist its course. 
 Arguments against it are usually the most impotent. Entrea- 
 ties and persuasions are alfise unheeded. Neither friendship nor 
 interest retards its onward progress. And even the personifi- 
 cation of its final catastrophe is viewed with seeming indiffer- 
 ence. A usage, therefore, which engenders in the human mind 
 such an infatuation, should be proscribed with the unanimity 
 that is applied to the use of intoxicating drinks. In regard to 
 both of these, hosts of men have been found incompetent to 
 resist the temptation. In everything else they may be rational 
 and efiicient ; but here they are, as it were, insane and pow- 
 erless. The inebriate and the gambler have seemingly no more 
 moral and muscular efficiency to fly from the intoxicating odors 
 of the cup, or the beguiling snares of the card-table, than a 
 man without legs is able to escape from the jaws of the raven- 
 ous wolf ; or than a charmed bird is able to escape the poisonous 
 fangs of the rattlesnake. 
 
 There may be, too, amusements less frightful in their final 
 results, and Ijence, treated with more forbearance ; but, if view- 
 ed with a telescope of nice moral capacity, will be found but 
 little less to be avoided. The precipice over which its victims 
 are led may be less abrupt and precipitous ; the gulf to receive 
 them may not boil and foam with appalling fury— its surface 
 may appear unruffled and smooth, but the end, nevertheless, is 
 ruin. Allusion is here made to amusements which exercise a 
 dominion equally absolute over ardent imaginations and minds 
 particularly susceptible to social influences. These, in their un- 
 measured indulgence, their deprivation of needful rest and sleep, 
 their exposures to the cold, midnight air, are destructive to 
 health of body and vigor of mind ; and, what is far worse, by 
 a career of mental dissipation, long indulged, are destructive 
 of the highest grade of religious embellishment— an active 
 piety. Such amusements are to be cherished with as little 
 favor as those which end in gambling. If they cannot be 
 controlled ; if they cannot be kept within their legitimate do- 
 
 L 
 
 The remembrance of wise and good men instructs as well as their presence. 
 _ _ 
 
The friendships that succeed to such aversions are usually 
 
 163 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 a 
 
 main, they, ala .%i better be proscribed, though in themselves 
 innocent. 
 
 And there are ainusements, also, involving expenditures of 
 money, either for dress, or to meet other conventional outlays, 
 that are frequently incompatible with the pecuniary means of 
 those who constantly indulge in them. Nor is this the only 
 objection to the class of amusements here intended. Of this 
 class, theatrical representations are prominent ; and, as gener- 
 ally sanctioned and maintained, they are, to say the least, sub- 
 versive of good taste and high moral culture, not less than of 
 good cash balances. This is true of the better portions of soci- 
 ety who frequent these representations. But, with those of 
 doubtful or low positions in literature or morals, it is difficult to 
 imagine how the devil could devise a system of instrumentali- 
 ties more perfect for the ruin of soul and body. Its scenery, 
 the fantastic appearance of the actors, the rich attire of the 
 fashionable portion of the audience, and also the excitements of 
 the orchestra, render the whole scene, to the imagination of a 
 novice in such matters, a perfect elysium. Instead of being a 
 school to exhibit nature as it is, nature is presented in full cari- 
 cature — everything overstrained — over-acted. And, wliat is 
 incomparably worse, here vice the most loathsome, but decked 
 in gaudy habiliments, is literally put at auction to the highest 
 bidder. Were the fact not palpable, no one could believe that 
 modest and virtuous females — young and married ladies, per- 
 haps professing Christians — can sit without shame and blushing, 
 long evenings, with such exhibitions directly over their heads. 
 If our churches had galleries for such purposes, they would not 
 be tolerated — they would be demolished by popular impulse. 
 The theatre is as much a place of merchandise to the panders 
 of vice, as the market-house is for the sale of bullock's flesh. 
 If, therefore, those accustomed to witness it have learnt how 
 to do it without blushirfg and moral defilement, we advise per- 
 sons from the country, on visiting the city, not to hazard the 
 experiment. 
 
 It is assumed, nevertheless, that there is, at times, for mus- 
 cular health and for mental activity, a necessity for the prac- 
 tice of what is usually denominated amusements. X^e organi- 
 zations of animal life involve this necessity. In multitudes of 
 cases it would be no easy matter to avoid this necessity. If 
 another name could be substituted for amusement, perhaps an 
 important difficulty would be obviated, though the reality were 
 preserved. For instance, if it were called recreation, or physi- 
 cal education, all alarm would be removed. The feelings of 
 persons opposed to everything called amusement are surely 
 
 learning procures respect to good fortune, and helps out the bad. 
 
but from their conduct, one would suppose that they are 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 163 
 
 
 go 
 
 not to be disregarded or trifled with ; yet those who think more 
 of the shadow than of the substance — of the name, than of the 
 thing signified, cannot be recognized as good authority in re- 
 hgion or philosophy. Things may as well be called by their 
 right names as any other. Exercise or amusement is particu- 
 larly important in the early period of life ; at that season, the 
 natural impulses incline us to be perpetually in motion ; and 
 this tendency appears to exist in the lower orders of animal 
 life, as well as in the human species. The lambs and the 
 calves on the grassy hill-side seem to enjoy their playful frolics 
 with as much zest as do children their more regular sports in 
 the nursery or the court-yard of their residence. Behold, also, 
 the half-grown pups and the young progeny of the cat, all 
 activity and playfulness ! And not less the same disposition in 
 the offspring of most animals. Nor are the gambols witnessed 
 among the inhabitants of the sea less deserving of notice. 
 
 From exhibitions to which allusion is here made, the infer- 
 ence is natural, that such impulses originate in laws which gov- 
 ern the animal creation — the human as well as the irrational ; 
 that they are wisely designed by the Creator to lead to a full 
 development of animal life ; and, that without them this devel- 
 opment would be imperfect. Hence, if there were no other 
 reasons for it, it would seem no one could fall to witness these 
 exhibitions without an emotion of delight. Here in the broad 
 sunshine of heaven thousands of animated existences may be 
 seen rejoicing in the life that God has given them ; and, so far 
 as able to do it, they surely appear to express their gratitude 
 and joy for the abundance with which they are fed and nour- 
 ished. Cannot even the most devout Christian find matter in 
 such scenes for pious meditation ? Can he look upon them 
 without a swelhng impulse in his own bosom ? Can the dumb 
 tribes of animated nature, without reason and without moral 
 perception, thus pantomimically express the praises of their 
 Maker, and rational and moral man send forth no response ? 
 Has he no powers of sympathy for all this wide range of benefi- 
 cence and mute thankfulness? Bat, if such are the manifesta- 
 tions and the designs of infinite wisdom and goodness in the lower 
 orders of animal creation, how much more may we behold with 
 pleasure kindred exhibitions in our own offspring ? Verily, that 
 individual must be an incomprehensible anomaly — a paradox of 
 humanity — who can deny to his own children those innocent 
 amusements which seem indispensable to the perfection of their 
 muscular organs ; and, scarcely less the maturity of their men- 
 tal powers and moral perceptions. Children are not fit for 
 labor, and, if made fit for it as they grow older, it is obvious 
 
 Look always upon life, and use it as a thing that is lent yoa 
 
things that are both true and new ; eo also in life, we shall 
 
 J 
 
 <) 
 
 164 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 they must have a measure of this jiivenile discipline. The same 
 description of juvenile recreation may not be best under all cir- 
 cumstances. What is best under some circumstances may not 
 be best under other circumstances. From a diversification of 
 these circumstances, some children may require more and others 
 less. The judicious parent is studiously to adapt the nature and 
 degree of it to the case of his own children. 
 
 In the city there is far more occasion for amusement or phys- 
 ical education than in the country. In the former, children 
 especially have little or nothing in the regular routine of life to 
 create muscular vigor. In the house, for the first five or six 
 years, they are almost continually shut up ; scarcely allowed, ha- 
 bitually, opportunity to breathe the pure air or tp receive its 
 healthful pressure. If quadrupeds were thus deprived of the 
 air and of locomotion, they would not acquire half their legiti- 
 mate physical strength, and would be stinted in stature. If 
 vegetables were thus circumvented, they would be feeble and 
 sickly at best. And a bad taste or a want of knowledge on the 
 subject induces a vast majority of those in cities, who have the 
 supervision of children, unnecessarily to increase an evil in itself 
 ruinous to good muscular development. It is imagined that a 
 white skin is of more importance than good health ; that gen- 
 eral debility is less to be dreaded than a dense atmosphere. 
 The extent of their ordinary exercise, for the first five or six 
 years of their life, is from the nursery to the parlor and back 
 again, a few times a day — or to the window, to gaze on ex- 
 ternal objects, after the manner of prisoners secured in their 
 cells ; and if, in these brief perambulations, the step should be 
 quickened, so as to occasion a fall on the carpet, an alarm is ere- • 
 ated as if a ship were stranded on the coast. And for the next 
 five or six years their condition is but a little improved. True, 
 they may attend school, possibly twenty rods from their home ; 
 but half of the time, probably, lest they should be overtaxed 
 with exertion, they must be transported by a servant in a wicker- 
 wagon. The absurdity of this becomes sufficiently apparent, 
 by the time they arrive at the age of ten or twelve years. Then 
 their feeble condition causes alarm, and a remedy is sought in a 
 course of gymnastics. This is very well, but the necessity for 
 it would have been diminished had they been previously more 
 accustomed to the air and to exercise as children are in the 
 country. 
 
 In the country there is but little occasion to apprehend chil- 
 dren will suffer from want of exercise or exposure to the atmos- 
 phere. Everything about them leads to excitement and to the 
 breaking over unnatural restraints. Most farmers or their wives 
 
 P 
 cu 
 
 CD 
 
 O 
 
 B 
 
 
 Nothing in the world is stronger than a man but his own passions. 
 
peculiar delight, arises from heuce — that all our first pleas" 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 165 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 R 
 
 have not leisure to injure their children by excessive enfeebling 
 nurture. They are necessarily and wisely permitted to go at 
 large, and in a good measure to take care of themselves. The 
 calves, the lambs, the pigs, the chickens, all become matters of 
 interest veith them ; and in witnessing their playfulness and in a 
 limited supervision of them, the children experience a species 
 of physical culture equal to that furnished by the best gym- 
 nastic teacher of the city school. Yet, it is believed that 
 something besides this is desirable for amusement even in the 
 country, As soon as boys are old enough for it, let them be 
 furnished with their little wagons, and sleds, and skates, each 
 to be used in its appropriate season ; and, let there be at 
 school, for boys and girls, amusements or physical education as 
 well as study. If children, at the commencement and the close 
 of school each day, were to spend fifteen minutes in singing, 
 under the direction of the master, he joining with them, leading 
 and instructing them, it would do more toward softening and 
 regulating their wayward habits of mind, and consequently fit- 
 ting them for the regular business of school, than double that 
 time in scolding and moral lectures. Indeed, if this were the 
 practice in every school, the discipline of the school would be 
 of the best kind, without any other agency, and corporal pun- 
 ishment would rarely ever be necessary. Let schoolmasters try 
 this, and they will be surprised at the effect produced. We 
 speak advisedly on the subject. Singing should be a part of 
 every school. Where it has been properly tried, success has 
 been without exception. 
 
 And there is another amusement we would have, under the 
 direction of the master, in every country school, if the construc- 
 tion of the schoolhouse will admit of it. Dancing is intended. 
 In the middle of the day, or prior to the commencement of the 
 afternoon studies, let half an hour be spent in this fascinating 
 exercise, as a reward of good conduct as scholars, and the pre- 
 diction is made with confidence, that neither the girls nor the 
 boys will ever be tardy. Besides, it will refine the manners and 
 the temper of mind beyond calculation. Instead of dimin- 
 ishing progress in study, it will increase it. The design is by 
 no means to fit them for the ball-room. It is simply to give 
 them a healthful exercise ; for boys, instead of playing ball — • 
 and the girls, instead of unseemly romping. The enemies of 
 amusement may say what they will against dancing, it is an in- 
 controvertible fact, that for children it is one of the best kinds 
 of physical education ever devised ; it brings the entire system 
 into gentle but vigorous action. Besides, it occupies the mind ; 
 it invigorates the habit of prompt attention ; it inspires the social 
 
 He that dissembleth with Qod is not to be trusted by man. 
 
knaves. For before a man draws this conclusion of the world, 
 
 166 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 •f 
 
 and refined instincts of our nature ; and it causes a graceful and 
 dignified movement of the limbs, not otherwise in rural life 
 easily acquired. Even the latter is not to be despised or under- 
 valued, as it too often is. Many persons in the country appar- 
 ently think much less of this accomplishment in their children 
 than they do of a good movement in their horses. If horses 
 were as awkward in their movements as many persons are 
 allowed to grow up, especially in the country, they would lose 
 half of their mercantile value. It is a fact. No one can de- 
 ny it. If this is not absurd, it would be difficult to tell what 
 is. In too many instances good manners in children is not 
 thought of ; but, if a cow were to poke her milker with the 
 horns, or were to kick her over, she would not be tolerated on 
 a farm. By the means here indicated, the children generally in 
 the country would be furnished with amusements and personal 
 accomplishments in connection with their literary education. It 
 would occasion no extra expense or loss of time, and the rec- 
 reation would be as serviceable to the master as to the scholars. 
 It is not to be presumed that the teacher in a district country 
 school will be so skilled in dancing as to be a professor of the 
 a,rt ; but he may easily acquire so much of its mystery as to 
 satisfy all reasonable expectation. 
 
 Laboring men and laboring women should also have seasons 
 for recreation and amusement; not, indeed, for exercise like 
 children, but for relaxation from toil, and for the preservation 
 of the mind in a due state of activity. All work and no play, 
 is a maxim too well remembered by all to be repeated in full, 
 and to none is it more applicable than to the laborers on a farm. 
 It was evidently the design of the Deity that there should be 
 seasons of relaxation from toil. Hence, He is represented to 
 have rested on the completion of the material creation, the 
 seventh day from the beginning of time, and to have appointed 
 to the end of time every seventh day for a period of rest to his 
 creatures. Other seasons have likewise, by Him, been conse- 
 crated to a similar purpose. Of the number may be named 
 the ancient Jubilee, celebrated by the Jews. 
 
 The wisdom of the appointment of the Sabbath for the rest 
 of man and beast is most evident, and allusion has been made 
 to it in another chapter. The appointment is predicated, so far 
 as we can judge, on a principle in nature, inherent and univer- 
 sal. Wherever there is a succession of development, there are 
 to be regular successive seasons for it, with seasons of rest in- 
 tervening. The growth of vegetables is not uniformly progres- 
 sive. There are periods analogous to the sleep of animals in 
 ■Which vegetation is stationary, as if it required rest. The saiae 
 
 An honest man is believed without an oath, for hia reputation swears for him 
 
the female, are perhaps as neceBsary to t)ie full derelopmeat of 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 167 
 
 is true of the earth itself. Unless invigorated by spe&ial fer- 
 tilizing agents, it must now and then remain fallow, or sterility 
 will be the consequence. The principle, therefore, on which 
 animals require relief from labor is the same in essence as that 
 which pervades the physical organization of the globe, and for 
 aught we know, tlie entire universe. This principle is recog- 
 nized in our various social organizlations. Our school and col- 
 lege vacations are appointed in reference to it ; and our nu- 
 merous holydays are designed for the two-fold purpose — to 
 commemorate distinguished events, and also to give rest to the 
 community. Every person who has had adequate experience, 
 or has made careful observation, must well Ijnow that unin- 
 terrupted devotion of body or mind will eventually overpower 
 the most vigorous animal structure. Animals of burden must 
 have, every few hours, alternations from toil to rest. It is the 
 same with laboring men. And it is generally found, that stu- 
 dents must be guarded against study beyond a given number 
 of hours each day. If oxen or horses were to be applied to 
 draught twelve or fifteen hours without relief, it would not be 
 difficult to imagine the consequence. So, liisewise, of laboring 
 men. To secure hired laborers against evils of the kind, stat- 
 utes have been ordained. And it is conceded by those most 
 competent to judge, that in the year more labor will be per- 
 formed by man and beast resting every seventh day, to be in- 
 vigorated for fresh effort, than if there were no cessation ; and 
 that students, having annually tliree months of vacation, will 
 in life acquire more knowledge than they would without it. 
 
 No argument is required to show that the more intense the 
 labor, the more frequent must be the periods of relaxation. On 
 the other hand, persons may pursue their labor with such stud- 
 ied moderation as not to need holydays. Farmers, in the sum- 
 mer season especially, do need them; and piobably, if they 
 were at the close of each of the more severe periods of toil — to 
 wit, planting and haymaking — to take a day for relaxation and 
 amusement, they would find, at the end of tlie year, they are 
 gainers rather than losers. At each of these peiiods, let a day 
 be allowed to their hired laborers, as a reward for fidelity and 
 assiduity, if deserved, and the beneficial results must become 
 apparent. Knowing that they are tlius to be rewarded, they 
 will look forward to these tokens of approbation with the most 
 cheerful and patient endurance, laboring as if the work were 
 tlieir own. When reached, they will experience an emotion 
 like that of the ransomed |irisoner on. being admitted to the de- 
 lights of unrestrained enj,oyment ; and, as soon as they are 
 passed, the physical system receiving fresh impulse, aud the 
 
 No greater treachery exists than ficsi toraise conSdeQce, and thea deceive it 
 
it, rather than yourself. Men are not accustomed to sweep 
 
 168 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 
 
 tq 
 
 mind, as in the effulgence of new light and life, renew and re- 
 double all their energies. With such seasons and such indul- 
 gences, the social attributes of laborers experience an impor- 
 tant change also. An elevation of character is at once evinced. 
 The lone and selfish feeling too often indulged by this class of 
 persons begins to merge itself in one of brotherhood. A com- 
 mon origin and a common destiny begin to be realized as no 
 fiction. And common sympathies begin to kindle and swell the 
 bosom, till all seem, at least in a measure, as distinct members 
 of one duly constituted body. 
 
 If all were disposed to indulge in occasional days of rest and 
 recreation, it is not always easy to decide what mode of spend- 
 ing the time is best adapted to the intended result. Verily, 
 some little ingenuity is requisite, especially if the thing is of fre- 
 quent occuiTence. If it were in the vicinity of good fishing 
 locations, thither all might repair once or twice a year. If it 
 were in the season of wild berries, an occasion might be at hand. 
 Or an ordinary pic-nic excursion might be made. In either 
 case, let men, women, and children be duly mustered, not neg- 
 lecting the schoolmaster or schoolmistress, or any other digni- 
 tary within the limits, to be rallied. A rural party for pleasure, 
 without women and children, would be like pudding without 
 sauce, to the taste ; and, in its effects, attended with injury 
 rather than good. But embracing the entire population, cleanly 
 and neatly attired, moving off a few miles in wagons, to some 
 destined spot, all cheerful, conversing, or singing on their way, 
 would present a scene of primitive simplicity of no ordinary 
 interest. To our apprehension, it would rank in materials for 
 the pencil of the painter with the hegira of Mahomet. Such 
 plainness — such simplicity — such gushing impulses of rural 
 friendship when partaking of their frugal repast, are in harmony 
 with the best inspirations of our nature. Away from the deco- 
 rations of artistan splendor in the city hall, or the drawing- 
 rooms of the rich ; sheltered only by the green foliage of a 
 dense forest ; the fresh odors of an entire landscape coming to 
 them on every passing breeze ; and, above all, as far as the eye 
 can reach, waving meadows and cultivated fields, the reward of 
 rural toil — who could here fail to share in the refreshing influ- 
 ences ? Such an occasion imparts no internal nausea — no con- 
 gestive pressure in the upper extremities — no physical prostra- 
 tion from fatigue — no deranged digestive agency for want of 
 sleep, too often experienced under other circumstances in sea- 
 sons of amusement. The mind is left calm and undisturbed ; 
 and the body, in all its functions, denotes a well-defined reno- 
 vation. 
 
 Where love is there is no labor ; and if there is labor, the labor is loved. 
 
more than thirteen times larger -when viewed from the moon 
 
 a, 
 a. 
 
 M 
 
 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 169 
 
 The female portion of a rural community need relaxation and 
 amusement not less than the male portion. If the former is 
 not habitually overtaxed with severe toil like the latter, there 
 is a ceaseless monotony in domestic labor which seems subver- 
 sive of that elasticity of character so essential in converting the 
 disagreeable things of life into substantial pleasures. Woman 
 is particularly constituted to encounter and triumph over such 
 an exigency. Man, indeed, may exert more physical strength 
 than woman ; he may scale more elevated heights for phren- 
 sied conquest ; and he may send forward a shadow of greater 
 terror in bidding defiance to opposing legions ; but in patient 
 and cheerful submission to that host of ills to which she is 
 sometimes doomed in her career of life — to unchanged and un- 
 mitigated domestic assiduity — to penury — to neglect, she will 
 outlive a dozen men. Hence, although she may continue to 
 breathe and toil, where man would falter and die, still relaxa- 
 tion and amusement are essential to the perfection of her char- 
 acter and her joys. If she can sustain existence without them, 
 it is but the shadow of what it might be, and what it should be. 
 It is marvelous to witness how long she will sometimes contin- 
 ue in the performance of her duties, not only without co-opera- 
 tion or sympathy, but apparently sustaining her efficiency as if 
 no opposing obstacles were in her way. This she sometimes 
 does with a drunken, idle, and abusive husband to aggravate 
 her destitution at every movement she makes ; not simply in 
 the time of day, when the light of heaven might shine upon her 
 and cheer her ; but in the season of night, to disturb her slum- 
 bers, and to make midnight doubly dark and cheerless. 
 
 But allowing woman has a kind husband, affectionate chil- 
 dren, and a comfortable mediocrity of means, where has she, 
 at the head of her domestic organization, the resources for pre- 
 serving her spirit unbroken and buoyant? Where can she 
 gather fragrance to sweeten the unsavory portion of her toils ? 
 Where can she collect the tints of light needful to drive away 
 those dark shadows which now and then hover over her ? For 
 man the seasons may regularly revolve ; there may h» the 
 singing of birds, and the perpetual vicissitude of vegetnole na- 
 ture — buds, and flowers, and fruits, to enliven and animate the 
 male laborers on the farm ; and there may be to them a con- 
 stant variation in performing the dififerent kinds of rural occu- 
 pation ; but, alas, what change is there in the domestic depart- 
 ment, either of toil or the surrounding influences, to light up a 
 smile of pleasure in the ever-faithful housewife ? Do the feath- 
 ered songsters attend her with their sweet melody when bending 
 over the kitchen utensils ? Do the rich odors of the flower- 
 
 The plainer the dress, with the greater lustre does the beauty always appear. 
 
19 distant from the sun four hundred and ninety millions of miles, 
 
 170 AMUSEMENTS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 garden, and the perfumed breath of the adjacent hills and val- 
 leys, come in and neutralize the unwelcome exhalations perpetu- 
 ally rising above the culinary laboratory ? Indeed, how in The 
 kitchen does summer diiffer from winter, or spring from fall, 
 save in atmospheric temperature ; or how does the evening dif- 
 fer from the morning, save that one displays the boiling tea- 
 kettle, and the other the boiling coffee-kettle ? Or that one has 
 a table of sweet-meats, and the other of beef steaks ? To 
 woman, shut up in the kitchen, there is seemingly no summer, 
 no spring, no autumn ; naught but dreary winter ; and, were 
 it not for the almanac, so far as her labors are concerned, there 
 would be to her none of these pleasing alternations. With her 
 is an eternal round of breakfast, dinner, and suppel-, week after 
 week, month after month, and year after year, amounting to 
 more than fifteen thousand times, from the age of twenty — per- 
 haps her nuptial day — to the age of sixty. This is the perpet- 
 ual calendar of the true housekeeper ! 
 
 If such be the destiny of woman, it is a raattei' of Christian 
 charity that she be furnished with occasional intermittents. 
 A period of appropriate amusement may upon her spirits and 
 her physical system produce a powerful influence, almost like 
 galvanic action. If the monotony described be the distinctive 
 reign of her life, let her at least be provided with means for 
 transient hallucinations. A spasmodic rush of light and pleas- 
 ure is better than unvaried gloom and sadness. That husband 
 is more heartless than a brute who will leave alone a fond wife, 
 evening after evening — sometimes long and dreary, while he is 
 away seeking recreation, or what is worse, engaged in drinking, 
 gambling, or any low-life pastime. 
 
 It is an important fact for her, that woman is as apt in expe- 
 dients tinder such circumstances, as she is patient under trial. 
 She will find relaxation and amusement where others may sup- 
 pose none can exist. She is plastic and flexible to a wonderful 
 degree. If she cannot bring the world within the compass of 
 her o\Vn desire, like a disappointed and shrewd politician, she 
 brings into a new combination the shattered elements promiscu- 
 ously scattered around her. Here, with the cool deliberation of 
 a philosopher and the fii-mness of a hero, she again plants her 
 standard, as if just entering upon the journey of life. For the 
 want of more expensive and less ready means for recovering a 
 proper mental equilibrium, the afternoon tea-party and the 
 autumnal quilting party are adopted whenever deemed neces- 
 sary. The eflfect is magical. One of these occasions will dispel 
 a morbid gloom that has been gathering for weeks. Bodily 
 fatigue is forgotten forthwith, and after a few hours of free 
 
 Let pleasures be ever so innocent, the excess is always criminal 
 
around ■which it revolves in about thirty of our years, its velocity 
 
 TOOL SHOP FOR FARMERS. ]7i 
 
 g 
 
 W 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 s 
 
 communion- between the wives of some half dozen farmers, 
 society and life with them will assume a new aspect ; all its 
 uncomely blemishes will be eradicated or emended, and the 
 prospects for the future will be blight and cheering. The most 
 faithful supervisors of the body politic could not be more scru- 
 tinizing and faithful in the public weal, than they are. Not a 
 delinquency, great or small, known or unknown, in the whole 
 neighborhood, escapes just animiid version. The current news 
 of the day, true and false, probable and improbable, is analyzed 
 and collated, as if prepared for a revised edition of the press. 
 Here, too, fashions and morals are duly expounded, not less 
 elaborately than a newly-proposed tariff bill in Congress. Nor 
 are the probabilities or the improbabilities of future matrimonial 
 alliances overlooked. And, above all, every family secret, every 
 neighborhood secret, and every village secret, whether of mar- 
 ried ladies or maidens, is secured against being made known, by 
 new seals and guaranties. Evils, indeed, may sometimes grow 
 out of these small colloquial conoour.ses ; but it cannot be de- 
 nied, tliey are productive of much good. They are among the 
 most needful constituents in rural life. 
 
 And say, without our hopes, without our fears. 
 Without the home that plighted love endears, 
 Without the smile from partial beauty won. 
 Oh ! what were man 1 — a world without a sun. 
 
 TOOL SHOP FOR FARMERS. 
 
 How sweet to breathe the gale's perfume, 
 And feast the eye with Nature's bloom I 
 Along the dewy lawn to rove. 
 And hear the music of the grove I 
 
 Evert farmer ought to possess a variety of tools, such as 
 needed in repairing- fariAing implements — fences, gates, and 
 pens ;■ and for'doing such work generally as will always be re- 
 quired on the premises, and which every person may acquire 
 the habit of doing, although he has no mechanical trade. How 
 often does a nail give way, and hence a board becoine loose ! 
 If he have nails and a hammer at hand, a few minutes will be 
 sufficient to make it secure. Whereas, if permitted to remain 
 
 The luxurious live to eat and drink, but the wise eat and drink to live. 
 
about 360 times less than at the earth. Its revolution about 
 
 172 TOOL SHOP FOR FARiMERS. 
 
 insecure, it may fall and be broken, so that a new one will be 
 required to supply its place. How often will the fastenings on 
 a gate or door demand a brief attention, to prevent destruction 
 from the wind, as well as to keep the stock from going where 
 they ought not ! How often does a rake-tooth or an axe-handle 
 get broken ; a hoe handle become loose in its socket ; an ox- 
 bow pin get lost ; a floor-plank in the stalls become damaged ! 
 If he has tools and materials at hand for making repairs, be may 
 do it himself, in half tlie time to be occupied in going after a 
 mechanic to do it ; besides, if \\e does it himself, he does not 
 have to pay another person for doing it. 
 
 To do these things, he must have hammers and hatchets, gira- 
 blets and augers, chisels and gouges, drills and screw-drivers; 
 saws and files, square and compasses, pliers and pinchers ; also, 
 a punch, a vice, an adze, a drawing-knife, a gauge, and perhaps 
 twenty other articles, the cost of which is not much, not equal 
 to what they will enable a person to save in a single year, if he 
 uses them as he may do. Besides, the time generally taken in 
 such acts would never be missed ; it is fiagments of leisure 
 about the season of meals, or stormy days when nothing else 
 would be done. With such habits of attention to the farming 
 implements, and to the various fixtures on the premises, when- 
 ever a job of work is to be undertaken, no delay is caused by 
 the want of instruments with which to effect it. This is the se- 
 cret why some farmers get along with their labor so much bet- 
 ter than their neighbors. They do not have to wait a day 
 before beginning any specified operation, in going after a car- 
 penter, a wheelwright, or a blacksmith, after the laborers are 
 personally ready to engage in it. 
 
 There would be an aggregate of two months, probably more, 
 of time every year, whicli is comparatively worthless to most 
 farmers, but which, if there were the requisite tools, materials 
 to be used, and other conveniences for the purpose, might be 
 most advantageously applied in making general repairs and 
 general improvements. Let this be done, year after year, for a 
 long succession of years, on a farm, and its whole appearance 
 will be incredibly altered. The appearance will not simply be 
 altered, but its fertility and productiveness will be increased. 
 The entire aspect of it will be changed. Let any one suitably 
 make the trial, and he will be satisfied there is no delusion, no 
 exaggeration on the subject. 
 
 But if a farmer is to keep a set of the more common mechan- 
 ical tools, he must have a place to keep them, or they will be 
 lost or out of repair. He must have a convenient place in 
 which to use them, and in which to keep deposited in good or- 
 
 It costs us more to be miserable than would make us perfectly happy. 
 
other scourges of mankind, for their sins ; but modern discoveries have 
 
 5 
 
 a 
 
 TOOL SHOP FOR FARMERS. 
 
 173 
 
 der the materials to be wrought, or he might as well be without 
 them. If exposed to the weather, they would be rusted and 
 otherwise injured. If oast about in confusion and disorder, they 
 would be liable to all kinds of incapacity for use, and probably 
 to eventual loss ; at any rate, would rarely be found with readi- 
 ness and convenience, when wanted most. Every farmer, there- 
 fore, should have a regular tool-shop, more or less commodious, 
 according to his means. If his means do not admit of greater 
 outlay, one ten or twelve feet square, and a mere shell, made 
 tight, with a good bench and chopping-block, will answer a fair 
 purpose. If his means do not allow him to procure even such 
 a one otherwise, he can build it himself, perhaps, having a carpen- 
 ter a few days in exchange for his own labor. The few 
 materials needed in its construction, on an emergency can be 
 procured somehow or other, and paid for by bis own labor 
 and the labor of his team, when otherwise idle. 
 
 However, a farmer's tool-shop should not be constructed on 
 this parsimonious plan, unless absolutely necessary. A little 
 additional outlay would greatly increase the conveniences of it. 
 Let it be twelve or fourteen feet by eigliteen, one story and a 
 half in height, or two stories. Still it may be a shell, save a 
 second floor and stairs. With this capacity, there would be 
 space in the loft for a little pile of boards and other lumber ; 
 for vinegar casks ; for apples, pumpkins, squashes, onions, and 
 the like, for family use, till carried to the cellar, to be protected 
 from frost. In the gable, upon racks, might be deposited 
 spades, shovels, scythes, cradles, and whatever other light 
 farming implements, not in regular use, not wanted in the barn 
 during the winter. Here, too, would be a place for baskets, 
 boxes, and empty dry casks. With such an appendage to a 
 farming establishment, how much would be saved every year ; 
 and with what satisfaction would it be viewed ! It would be a 
 source of every-day convenience and pride. No one who had 
 known the advantages of it would consent to be without it. 
 
 Next akin to the above appendage, in importance, are a sup- 
 ply of sheds of some sort or other for the protection of wagons, 
 ploughs, harrows, sleds, and whatever else of like character may 
 be used. No greater waste of property can be conceived than 
 that arising from their constant exposure to the weather — rain 
 and snow, drying winds, and burning suns — alternately suc- 
 ceeding each other. It is a fair estimate, that all such articles 
 well secured against such exposures, when not in use, will last 
 double the time as they would if not thus sheltered. Let it be 
 supposed that the farmer has expended four hundred dollars 
 in wagons, carts, ploughs, harrows, cultivators, rollers, sleds. 
 
 Every lust we entertain deals with us as Delila did with Sampson. 
 
2000 times greater than red-hot iron ; and that if it cooled 100 
 
 174 
 
 GARDENS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 and it may be other still move expensive implements, which 
 have to be repliiced every ten years, unless sheltered when not 
 in use ; but which, if sheltered, may last, so far as the action of 
 the weather is concerned, twenty years ; how richly is he repaid 
 for the small cost of the necessary shelters for them ! Nor is 
 this all. The secret of becoming forehanded depends much, in- 
 deed, in taking care of what one has, rather than in working 
 very hard, or making large profits. And usually, all such fix- 
 tures are provided at a mere trifling expenditure. It is the con- 
 sumption of labor of little value for other purposes. If they can 
 be provided in no other way, do it by the following simple pro- 
 cess : — Cut down a few small trees, each dividing at top into 
 two branches. Reduce them to the right length. Place th«m 
 in the ground, like fence-posts. On the crotches place other 
 small round timbers horizontally, like beams to a framed build- 
 ing. Then place across these timbers or fence-rails like rafters. 
 Cover them or thatch them with straw or coarse hay. This 
 gives you a good shelter, that will last for years ; and it may be 
 extended to any desirable length. 
 
 Be honesty our riche9. Are we mean 
 And humbly born ? The true heart makes us noble. 
 These hands can toil, can sow the ground and reap. 
 For thee and thy sweet babes. Our daily labor 
 Is daily wealth. It finds us bread and raiment. 
 
 GARDENS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 Why is our food so very sweet I 
 Because we earn before we eat. 
 Why are our wants so very few ? 
 Because we Nature's calls pursue. 
 Whence our complacency of mind? 
 Because we act our parts assign'd. 
 
 There is a feeling, unfortunately too prevalent among farm- 
 ers, that all the time and labor expended on a garden is thrown 
 away ; and hence it is either wholly neglected, or left to the 
 care of children, who usually in such cases do about as much 
 mischief as they undertake of good. Now such an opinion, and 
 
 A generous, virtuous man, lives not to the world, but to his own conscience. 
 
already terrified at the success of the Turkish arms. Pope Calixtus, 
 
 GARDENS FOR FARMERS. 175 
 
 suoli a practice, is most detrimental to the interests of the 
 farmer, and should be corrected at once. Every farmer who 
 has a good garden is aware there is no part of his farm that 
 yields so large a profit as that; and he also fully understands 
 there is none that contributes more to the comfort and the 
 health of the family. There are many who seem to think the 
 demand upon them for a garden is fully satisfied if in the spring 
 they plough up a dozen square rods, and plant the land with 
 corn, potatoes, a few hills of cucumbers, and, peradventure, a 
 squash or a melon may find a place in some nook or corner ; 
 beyond these they do not venture. 
 
 When we speak of a good farmer's garden, we do not mean 
 one in which labor is expended for show, but for profit ; to pro- 
 duce articles for use and sustenance. A well-planned garden, 
 aside from what may be called the kitchen garden, devoted to 
 shrubs, trees, and flowers, is always delightful; and the wife 
 and daughters of every farmer might find time to cultivate 
 a few flowers, if nothing more ; and there are few things that 
 speak so much for the taste and mental refinement of the 
 owner as these ; but such is not the garden we are to expect or 
 perhaps desire for the common tiller of the soil. Utility is here 
 the grand object, and this should be kept steadily in view, mat- 
 ters of taste and mere ornament being made subsidiary, as far 
 as is consistent with weightier claims. 
 
 There is to me 
 A daintiness about these early flowers, 
 That touches me like poetry. They blow out 
 "With such a simple loveliness among 
 The common herbs of pasture, and they breathe 
 Their lives so unobtrusively, lilce hearts 
 "Whose beatings are too gentie for the world. 
 
 The garden should always be selected with particular refer- 
 ence to its exposure, and the qualities of the soil. If both 
 these are good, there will be little trouble in having a good gar- 
 den ; if otherwise, the difficulties must be overcome by increased 
 attention and perseverance. The soil should be deep and fria- 
 ble to at least the depth of eighteen or twenty inches, and be 
 brought, by repeated manurings and ploughings, to a similar 
 richness throughout. A rich surface, with a cold, compact sub- 
 soil, is unsuitable for most garden plants ; and to some it would 
 be fatal. Nearly all our cultivated garden plants require to be 
 brought forward as expeditiously as may be, our short summers 
 
 That civility is best which excludes all superfluous formality. 
 
as the planets of our system.revolve round the sun. Weie the 
 
 176 GARDENS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 .3 
 
 barely afFofding time for maturity, even with all the aids they 
 can receive from rich soils and early plantings. The size of the 
 garden must of course be governed by the quantity of supplies 
 that are expected from it. It should contain room enough to 
 give space for all the articles essential to the comfort of a 
 farmer's family, as the garden is always the most convenient, 
 and, in many instances, the only spot, in which they can be 
 grown. 
 
 In making selections of seeds for a garden, great care should 
 be taken to secure such varieties as will keep the article in sea- 
 son the longest, or produce it as early and as late as possible. 
 On this is in a great measure depending the profit of the gar- 
 den. In some garden plants there is no such distinction, but 
 where it exists, it should always receive attention. We do not 
 pretend to dictate what articles shall be grown in the farmer's 
 garden ; the state of the ground and the taste of the individual 
 must be consulted. The following list, however, presents many 
 articles essential to the farmer's garden. 
 
 Corn, the common early and the sweet corn ; potatoes, prin- 
 cipally the early varieties, as those in field culture will furnish a 
 later supply ; carrots, beets, turnips, though these, in a garden, 
 art apt to be infested by worms ; onions ; cucumbers, both 
 early and for pickling ; beans of several varieties, of which some 
 of the early bush beans, and the pole beans, called the white 
 case-knife, and the large speckled cranberry, are perhaps the 
 best ; melons, such as the muskmelon, citron, and watermelon ; 
 squashes, and of these should be cultivated, the summer, acorn, 
 and Valparaiso ; cabbages, of several kinds, but the earliest that 
 can be obtained ; asparagus ; the tomato, oyster, and pie plant ; 
 a strawberry bed ; the common and Cayenne peppers. 
 
 A farmer has a taste, and is fully entitled to grant it any 
 reasonable gratification ; and the fruits which usually go to the 
 formation of sauces, and are commonly grown in the jr/irdens, as 
 currants, gooseberry, and quinces, should not be overlooked by 
 him in planting his garden. It must be admitted, however, 
 that these are not of equal consequence to some things pre- 
 viously enumerated, and may therefore be omitted with loss in- 
 jury. Nor can it be supposed that anything like a list suited 
 to every individual can have been given. One's own taste is to 
 be regarded; what may please one, may not, in every instance, 
 please others. And particular famiUes may be so accustomed 
 to particular garden vegetables, less acceptable to others not 
 accustomed to them. Particular locations, also, may be more 
 favorable to the growth of some, and less favorable to the 
 gp-wth of others. Everything else being equal, such, of course. 
 
 Custom looks to things that are past, and fashion to things that are precent 
 
2 
 a 
 
 < 
 1 
 
 Eh 
 
 ft 
 
.s 
 e 
 
 so 
 
 
 is pninipotent. If the prospect is somewhat darkened, put the 
 
 GARDENS FOR FARMERS. ^ 177 
 
 would be selected as will afford the best remuneration for the 
 labor bestowed. * 
 
 To every person making a careful examination, it will be evi- 
 dent that it is much easier to raise one hundred dollars worth 
 of vegetables in the garden, than to raise meayof that value, or 
 breadstuff in the field, of that value. It cau^scarcely be doubt- 
 ed, that vegetables may be produced in the garden for less'than 
 half the cost of their equivalent in other kinds of food for a 
 family. With a good supply of 'such fresh vegetables in sum- 
 mer, seemingly bvit little else is needful. They are palatable 
 and nutritious. Especially if meat is short in"^e cellar, or 
 dear from the butcher, the greater should be '■ the effort to in- 
 crease this economical substitute. So, likewise, if there is a 
 deficiency of meal and flour. Let a person make a memoran- 
 dum of every'&i-ticle taken from a good garden, at a fair mar- 
 ket price, and The amotrnt at the close of the season will be in- 
 credible. With an ample supply of milk, aijd ai;gaod garden, 
 a family may receive a comfortable living with but very litfle 
 meat or breadstufi', and be equally well fitted for the laborsjf 
 they have to perform. And it is known, that there are fami-'? 
 lies which receive the greater portionnof their living from sAl 
 acre of land thus cultivated ; part of ife "products ujed on tl^ 
 premises, arid a part sold in exchange for other artioai.' Such 
 a fact is sufficient to show that, in all cases, this desoriptfon of j 
 culture may be profitable as well as an import#it item in what 
 is called good fare ; and that none should neglect it, whether 
 rich or poor. — More than half this article has been selectedjrom 
 the Genesee Farmer. '• 
 
 . ■■ . ' *■ 
 
 Does not the sun with constant pace 
 Persist to run his annual race ! ft^^ 
 
 Do not the stars which shine so bright, jjpf » 
 
 Renew their courses every night 3 JUr . if 
 
 Does not the ox obedient bow 
 '•* His patient neck, and draw the plough ? 
 
 , Or T*hen did e'er the gen'rous steed 
 
 Withhold his labor or his speed ? 
 
 
 015 
 
 Jleputation and life are the most precious things this side the grave. 
 
' that a lusty feUow like you ia thus employed !" " Ah," replied 
 
 .9 
 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. 
 
 Bt jane TAYLOR. 
 
 A MONK, when his rites saoe/dotal were o'er. 
 
 In the depth of his cell, with his stone-covered floor, 
 
 Resigning to thought his chimerical hrain, 
 
 He form'd the contrivance we are now to explain. 
 
 In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away. 
 
 And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray : 
 
 But success is secure, unless energy fails, 
 
 And at length he produced The Philosopher's Scales. 
 
 What were they ? you ask : you shall presently see ; 
 These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea ; 
 O no — for such properties wondrous had they. 
 That qualities, feelings, and thoughts theywould weigh ; 
 • Together with articles small or immense, 
 ' From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense. 
 Naught was there so bulky but there it could lay. 
 And naught so ethereal, but there it could stay ; 
 Arid naught so reluctant, but in it must go — 
 All which some examples more clearly will show. 
 
 The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, 
 Which rjgtained all the wit that had ever been there ; 
 As a weight, he threw in the torn scraps of a leaf, 
 Containingijthe prayer of the penitent thief, 
 JVhen the scuU rose aloft with so sudden a spell, 
 As to bound like a ball on the roof of his cell. 
 
 One time he put in Alexander the Great, 
 And a garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight; 
 And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, 
 The hero rose up, and the garment went down. 
 
 A long row of alms-houses, amply endow'd 
 
 By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud. 
 
 Next loaded one scale, while the other was press'd 
 
 By those mites the poor widow threw into the chest ; 
 
 Up ilew the endowment, not weighing an ounce. 
 
 And down, down the farthing's worth came with a bounce. 
 
 A wise man will be more anxious to deserve a fair name than to possess it. 
 
and like coin, Its circulation is not restricted to any particular 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 179 
 
 Again he peiform'd an experiment rare ; 
 
 A monk, with austerities bleeding and bare, 
 
 Climb'd into his scale — in the other was laid 
 
 The heart of Howard, now partly decayed ; 
 
 When he found, with surprise, that the whole of his brother 
 
 Weighed less by some pounds than this bit of the other. 
 
 By other experiments, no matter how, 
 
 He found that ten chariots weighed less than a plough. 
 
 A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scafe, 
 
 Though balanced by only a tenpenny nail. 
 
 A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, 
 
 Weigh'd less than a widow's uncrystaliz'd tear> 
 
 Yet no mountains of silver and gold would sufiBce 
 On'e pearl to outweigh ; 'twas the pearl of great price. 
 Last of all, the whole world was bowl'd in the gatCj 
 With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight ; 
 When the scale with the soul so mightily fell, 
 That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 Here, brothera, secure from all turmoil and danger. 
 We reap what we sow, for the soil is our own 5 
 
 We spread hospitality's board for the stranger, 
 And care not a fig for the king on his throne ; 
 
 We never know want, for we live by our labor, 
 And in it contentment and happiness find. 
 
 'Not a few of the thoughts now to be collected in a chapter 
 by themselves, may have been scattered along incidentally, 
 when discussing other subjects. But, as much is said, on th« 
 one side, of the hardships of the fai-mer, by those who endure or 
 witness them ; and, on the other side, of the benefits of a coun- 
 try residence, especially by those who view th«m at a distance, 
 it seems proper, in a work like the pi-esent, to make a collation 
 of them in opposing columns ; to bring each class into a more 
 compact order, that we may have more just conceptions of them. 
 
 Habit will reconcile us to almost everything, though at first disagreeable. 
 
he knew, to not having been ashamed to aek for information, and 
 
 180 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 1 
 
 The surrounding circumstances of the agriculturist, like the cir- 
 cumstances attending other modes of life, are imperfectly under- 
 stood, except by those in immediate proximity to them. Super- 
 ficial views are taken, in order to avoid the trouble of philosophi- 
 cal investigations. Those at a distance from the peculiarities 
 attending the different orders in the business of life, and es- 
 pecially those who have no experimental knowledge of them, 
 may greatly, as predisposed, over-estimate the bright side of 
 the picture, and under-estimate the evils of the corresponding 
 side of it. This is true of the professional man and the mer- 
 chant, as well as of the farmer. It is now proposed to remove 
 some of the obstacles to correct apprehension in these matters ; 
 to repudiate some of the erroneous conclusions that have been 
 adopted in regard to them. And it is calculated not to be so 
 didactic and metaphysical in the process as to render the effort 
 repulsive to the reader. Descriptions of natural scenery should 
 always be in language adapted to the subject. If rhetoric has 
 any charms, here is an appropriate place for them. 
 
 The farmer is apt to imagine, when beholding the abundance 
 of pecuniary means in the possession of the merchant, that ev- 
 erything on which he places his wand is converted into cash ; 
 that his occupation deserves not the name of labor, being httle 
 else than what may be called amusement ; and that he has no 
 solicitude except to gratify his taste and his fancy, and to spend 
 his money. So he speculates in regard to the professional man 
 — imagining that his days are mere pastime, without a thought 
 of mental anxiety, as well as without muscular action, to exhaust 
 his physical energies. Far different would be the conceptions, 
 could he with mesmeric vision inspect the painful and almost 
 agonizing solicitude, during midnight vigils, of the faithful med- 
 ical attendant, when endeavoring to find means to restore the 
 almost hopelessly disorganized functions Of animal hfe; or of the 
 legal practitioner, who has in his keeping the fortune, the repu- 
 tation, and even the life of his client ; and especially of the sin- 
 cere and devoted minister of salvation, whose soul must be in 
 constant travail for the everlasting destinies of those for whose 
 welfare he is ordained. No one should envy the condition of 
 such men ! No one should charge them with a profession 
 exempt from pressures the most overwhelming, and from respon- 
 sibilities in magnitude without a parallel ! If faithful to their 
 respective trusts, richly do they deserve all they receive. They 
 would merit more than this world can give. 
 
 Nor are the circumstances connected with rural life better 
 understood, by persons not having experimental knowledge of 
 them. True, in regard to the laborious toils, conceptions less 
 
 Nothing is more disgusting than tlie triumphant Growings of literary dunces. 
 
secure the former, because it will invariably be accompanied by the lat- 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 181 
 
 ■M 
 
 inadequate may be generally entertained; but, on the other 
 hand, it is believed that the general conceptions relating to the 
 pleasures of rural life are generally inadequate to a high degree ; 
 and not only inadequate, but essentially false. What does the 
 mercantile man suppose these pleasures to be ? Mainly pleasures 
 of a negative character — an exemption from the perils of trade 
 — fro,m the corroding mental distractions in periods of revul- 
 sion — from the degrading servility that enters into a vast major- 
 ity of all business ramifications — and, it may be, from incidental 
 attendants that desti-oy health and life. So far there is a just 
 estimate on the subject, it is admitted. From evils like these, 
 sufficient in themselves, one would suppose, to paralyze the most 
 vigorous intellects, and to destroy the most powerful physical 
 organizations, there is, indeed, in the country a pretty general 
 exemption. But there are pleasurable attendants of a positive 
 as well as of a negative description, in a country residence. The 
 former are the great correspondents to the toils of the farmer. 
 They are the principal inheritance God bestows on the culti- 
 vator of the ground ; an inheritance infinitely better than that 
 of princes, especially in an age pregnant with revolutions. In 
 due order, these correspondents will be given in detail to the 
 reader. The exemptions alluded to are mere incidents ; indeed, 
 not to be disregarded, but in a philosophical category, of second 
 importance only. 
 
 In the first place, a brief allusion will be made to the toils and 
 hardships of the husbandman. We can approach this portion 
 of the present chapter without any peroration. It is inveloped 
 in no shadows of darkness or hidden subtleties. There is no fic- 
 tion in it ; there is no romance about it. The whole is a matter 
 of stern reality. The toils of the farmer may be known and 
 appreciated without the aids of philosophy or logic. They are 
 spread out to the inspection of the common observer. They are 
 not like the labors of the student, mere efforts of the intellect, 
 and of course not within the range of natural vision ; made in 
 seclusion ; oftentimes when the surrounding world is buried in 
 sleep, and with no earthly witness but the midnight lamp. Such 
 are not the toils of the farmer. No, he does not, like the stu- 
 dent, in vindication of their reality, have to appeal to mathemat- 
 ical demonstrations, to a hectic flush on the cheek, or to 
 dyspeptic developments in the digestive organs. No, his dark 
 and brawny countenance testify how he has been scorched by 
 summer suns, and how he has been exposed to all the inclem- 
 encies of cold and storms. Let him stand up before you ! Ask 
 him, whence that enlargement of his hands to twice their natu- 
 ral dimensions ? Whence that stiffness of his fingers, betokening 
 
 The praise of the envious is far less creditable than their censures. 
 
congelation commences with the higher circles, and the nearer 
 
 182 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 the joints to have ceased performing their accustomed offices ? 
 Whence the callous and leather-like skin which covers them? 
 Whence does his body so bend forward, and whence the want 
 of elasticity in his locomotive action ? 
 
 The reply may be promptly given ! All this is the result of 
 an habitual application to labors better adapted to the strength 
 of a beast of burden than to man. So much familiarized to 
 conflicts with the elements, they have seemingly lost their power 
 over him. He has been regularly disciplined to the accomplish- 
 ment of unnatural feats of strength, as the racehorse has been 
 trained to fleetness surpassing ordinary possibility, till he has 
 become a giant, if sedentary men are the standard of human 
 physical power. Hence his ability to endure such tasks. Were 
 a person, without this preparation, to attempt the performance 
 of them, he would sink in the efforts ; he would become a vic- 
 tim to his temerity. 
 
 Although we may infer the severe tolls of the farmer, thus 
 reasoning from effect to cause, yet to have a complete appre- 
 hension of them, we must either have experimental knowledge 
 of them, or we must be so situated as to witness them with our 
 own senses. We must take a position of immediate proximity to 
 him. We must follow him day after day, week after week, and 
 month after month, till he completes an agricultural year. Let us 
 begin our observations upon him in the season of spring ! At this 
 season, the whole range of nature seems to be struggling for a 
 new career of organic beauty and development. The animal and 
 the vegetable kingdoms have an uncontrolled tendency to parti- 
 cipate in this renovated life. As soon as the sun passes the 
 vernal equinox, what an impulse is given to the farmer ! An 
 impulse scarcely less potent than the electric shock ! It is seen 
 in every muscle of his face ! His eye imparts increased bril- 
 liancy of expression ! His footsteps are made with augmented 
 elasticity ! All his motions are accelerated ! His natural aspect 
 is not unlike that of the inferior orders of animated being, which 
 lay dormant in winter, but now, in the fieshness of new ener- 
 gies, are beginning to frolic and sport, as if in ecstatic homage to 
 the great Spirit that made and sustains them. 
 
 It is at this season the farmer puts into requisition all his 
 means for tilling the ground, planting the seed, and making out- 
 lays for the autumnal harvest. He slumbers not till overshad- 
 owed by the light of day. When first saluted by the sun's rays, 
 he is abroad, reconnoitering his fields, or preparing his oxen for 
 the labors to ensue. And, it may be, even before the cattle and 
 the sheep leave their repose ; before the featheied creation fill 
 the air with the melody of their songs ; — when are beheld the 
 
 There is no chasm in the diversified operations of Nature. 
 
and slavery, if it prevented us from benefiting ourselvea. 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 183 
 
 first glearaings of early twilight, all to be engaged in those labors 
 are called from their sleeping reveries. Possibly a short period 
 is confusedly consecrated to family devotion ; to which succeeds 
 a general scramble to share in the bounties of a-rural breakfast, 
 filling the room with its fumes and odors, and no one failing to 
 give ample demonstration of his desire to promote a home mar- 
 ket for the varied products of the farm. What a clatter of 
 knives and forks ! What a desolation of steaks, and bread, and 
 potatoes! What a flood of smoking coffee rolls down the river 
 of life, carrying on ils broad bosom these nutritious aliments of 
 life and vigor ! And when finished, what a scramble again ! No 
 time for the picking or the scrubbing of teeth ! No time for the 
 polishing of boots and shoes ! No time for the better adjust- 
 ment of the contributions of the wardrobe! Other thoughts 
 occupy these tillers of the soil. Other hopes lead them onward 
 than the decorations of the toilet. To gaze upon the mirror of 
 nature, they turn away from all thoughts of personal ease. One 
 takes his horse-team and his plough ; one repairs to his manure 
 heap with his oxen and wagon ; others take their spades and 
 their hoes, and away they go with the speed of a locomotive. 
 The commotion is not unlike that in olden times, when the pas- 
 sengers of a stage-coach were summoned from a half-eaten din- 
 ner, by the driver's horn ; one dropping his desert on his pro- 
 jecting shirt bosom, or on his unmentionables ; one filling his 
 pockets with half-picked drumsticks ; and all anathematizing 
 the stentorian shout — " The stage is ready" — which, with the 
 crack of the whip, is suddenly far away. Such is the hurry of 
 farmers in going to their work, after breakfast! Such is the 
 beginning of the spring-time toils of rural life ! And this is an 
 every-day occurrence, with slight variations, for the entire season. 
 Seeing it once will give an idea what it is always. 
 
 To present the reader with all the successive exhibitions of a 
 similar character in tlie farmer's calendar, would exceed the 
 contemplated limits of the present work. We have neither 
 space nor time for it. Besides, detached sketches will answer 
 the purpose proposed. Hence, a hasty glance will next be 
 suggested upon a midsummer scene. One of the most repul- 
 sive traits in agricultural life is the necessity for performing the 
 most arduous labors in seasons fraught with the greatest perils 
 to health and comfort. Could the business of haymaking be 
 carried forward in the months of May and October, wlien burn- 
 ing suns encompass other climes ; when a bland atmosphere 
 and the scent of the half-dried luxuriant gi-ass would combine 
 to render the labor bestowed a mere chaim for regaling the 
 senses ; when there are no prostrating meteorological influences 
 
 From an Jingel to an atom, all is proportion, harmony, and strength. 
 
their ignorance, when the French Government sent as a present 
 
 184 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 to break dowu the constitution — this portion of the farmer's 
 life would present no terrors. Such, however, is not the fact. 
 This portion of his toils is to be perfoimed when vegetation 
 itself, with all its luxuriance, has not sufficient vital energy to 
 stand erect under the scorching rays of a meridian sun ; when 
 man and beast seem barely able to endure their enervating influ- 
 ence; the latter, if unrestrained, instinctively resorting to the 
 cooling groves for shelter ; and the former sustaining themselves 
 by the use of whatever artificial means experience has found of 
 service. Where, in this world of toil and physical exhaustion, 
 can be found a parallel to the fatigues of haymaking and the 
 midsummer harvest? Perhaps, indeed, it may be found on 
 shipboard in a violent storm. Perhaps it may be found in the 
 manoeuvring and the contlicts of contending- larmies on tropi- 
 cal sands. And, perhaps, it may be found in a company of 
 firemen combating a storm of flame and cinder in one of our 
 burning cities. Verily, at such a time, a company of farmers 
 resembles- these scorched and exhausted firemen. 
 
 In the season of autumn, the farmer encounters less severe 
 labor ; but even here he finds no rest. In the harvest season 
 there is occasion for constant occupation ; one brancii of gath- 
 ering in the products of the earth succeeding another in such 
 regular and rapid order, all ideas of leisure necessarily concen- 
 trate in the future. True, this labor is a most pleasing one ; 
 like the returning ships of the merchant laden with arich freight ; 
 or like the products of machinery making high dividends; — giv- 
 ing joy to the proprietors ; so the big sheaves, the well-filled 
 ears, the fat kine, the plump fowl, and the oveiflowing barns, 
 and cellars, and granaries, produce an excitement in rural life 
 which renders even unceasing occupation at this season rather 
 to be desired than avoided. If the burdens we are describing 
 would sink a man not accustomed to them, the buoyancy of 
 feeling to the farmer in thus beholding the rewards of his toil 
 makes him cheerful and happy. 
 
 Glowing scene ! 
 Nature's long holyday ! luxuriant — rich, 
 In her proud progeny, she smiling mariss 
 Their graces, now mature, and wonder-fraught ! 
 Hail I season exquisite !— and hail, ye sons 
 Of rural toil 1 — ye blooming daughters ! yo 
 Who, in the lap of hardy labor rear'd. 
 Enjoy the mind unspotted I 
 
 If the farmer have any holyday period corresponding to the 
 
 Time is the measure of all things, but is itself immeasurable. 
 
there is a difference bet-ween a debt of revenge and every other 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 135 
 
 f4 
 
 leisure months of the merchant — or in times of general health 
 to that of the physician — or between terms of court to that of 
 the legal profession, it is in the days of winter. Here he has 
 not a little time not absolutely required in the usual routine of 
 rural labor, the admission is readiiy made ; and these intervals, 
 as elsewhere shown, may be converted to the most valuable 
 ends. In being used for intellectual improvement, they may 
 enable him to rise to eminence in society ; or if used in his tool- 
 shop, or in making femall improvements about his premises, they 
 will give him high reputation for neatness as an agriculturist. 
 Nevertheless, if these intervals are,- in the aggregate, of large 
 amount, taken separately, they are mere fragments of time, not 
 entire weeks or entire days, but oftentimes of only an hour or 
 less each ; the alternate fragments needed in the most urgent 
 demands on his attention. The labors of a farmer in winter 
 are like those on shipboard where there is a deficiency of hands ; 
 three hours on duty, it may be, and only two for rest and sleep. 
 It is apparent that the duties of the farmer, in winter, are of 
 constant occurrence ; and, that there can be no exemption from 
 the claims on him for them. It is no trifling matter in our cli- 
 mate, especially in houses no better secured against the ingress 
 of cold than houses in the country usually are, to superintend 
 the fires necessary for comfort and for culinary purposes. If 
 this devolves &n a single individual for a family, no occasion will 
 exist tc( appreliend his health will sufl'er for the want of exercise. 
 While-he is chopping and bringing in to the fire one basket of 
 wood, the one previously furnished, if the weather is extremely 
 cold, will be nearly consumed. So it will be the entire day. 
 If he would secure rest in this department of labor, he must 
 construct a steam-mill for the cutting and splitting wood ; and 
 then a railroad from the wood-pile to the kitchen fireplace. In 
 the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and twenty- 
 one, we had a little delightful experience in this province of 
 rural economy. In a nice ijcountry village, contiguous to a 
 heavy growth of timberj' fire- wood standing was so cheap, we 
 resolved to use it freely as needful. Tlie main article consumed 
 was the best of oak, purchased at different times without record, 
 and, of course, without knowing the amount. But a little pitch 
 'or yellow pine was necessary for kindling wood, as it was called. 
 Of the latter we used, incredible as it may seem, eighteen cords, 
 in one of the first class country houses, and with only three 
 fires ! 
 
 But there is another department of labor for the farmer in 
 winter. He must visit and administer to his flocks and herds 
 with the regularity that the hands of a clock point to any given 
 
 Time, like space, is incomprehensible, because it has no limits. 
 
ing of education, says, " If a wise man empties his purse into 
 
 186 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 •3 
 
 figures on its dial. Horses, and cattle, and sheep, and swine, 
 and fowl, grant no dispensation to their owner in supplying their 
 necessities. The idea that the drifting snow and the intense 
 cold are inconvenient to him, enters not into their calculations. 
 In these matters they are no philosophers or sympathizers. To 
 them, after the supplying of their own animal wants, the whole 
 world is one wide blank. Besides, in their way, they are great 
 tyrants ; and to use a common expression, they are all as obsti- 
 nate as mules. Unless well fed, they will not grow fat. If not 
 well cleaned and warmed, they will not look sleek. Moreover, 
 they are consummate tell-tales. True, they know not grammar 
 or rhetoric ; they understand not Latin, or Greek, or French ; 
 yet they have a kind of mysterious language of their own, by 
 which they will tell every man, woman, and child, that comes 
 in sight, if their owner has neglected them. Without the least 
 regard to his interest, or to his reputation as a man of ordinary 
 Christian feeling, they will seemingly grow poor out of spite to 
 him for not giving them enough to eat. 
 
 God made the country, and man made the town ; 
 What wonder, then, that health and virtue, gifts 
 That can alone mate sweet the bitter draught 
 That life holds out to all, should most abound. 
 And least be threaten'd in the fields and groves ? 
 
 In the second place, it may be remarked, that the pleasures 
 of rural life are as much a matter of reality as the toils. They 
 are no fairy dreams. They are no gilded pictures having exist- 
 ence only in ardent imaginations. Nor are they negative pleas- 
 ures only ; that is, exemptions from inconveniences and hazards 
 connected with other occupations. While these are felt, and 
 some of them are of no small importance, there are others, 
 whether viewed in reference to their moral, social, or intellectual 
 bearing, of the highest grade of importance. It is by no means 
 a fact, that the scenery and associations of rural life are unfa- 
 vorable to the most elegant refinements in taste, moral percep- 
 tion, and mental culture. True, tliere is much in the country 
 that is uncouth and grovelling, as well a.s unpolished ; hke the 
 diamond in its rough state, and the cragged Etfyptian marble 
 before rendered fit for use ; all, however, resulting from a want 
 of intellectual discipline, and not from any inevitable local sur- 
 rounding influences. 
 
 So there is in the city. Nor is this all. In the city there is 
 a vast deal that is not only obnoxious to the canons of o-ood 
 taste, but equally so to good morals and social decency. In the 
 
 Wiedom walks before time, opportunity with it, and repentance behind it. 
 
out of all the species, do in that action bind (hemsilves to be good- 
 
 ft? 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 187 
 
 city, too, there are floating masses of moral poliutioa to be met 
 in almost every street. A stranger is in constant danger of 
 defilement from accidental contact with them. And there are, 
 moreover, in the city, dens of iniquity and impurity, as incura- 
 ble as the cancer whose fibrous roots in countless ramifications 
 entwine themselves about the human vitals. It is known that 
 the skillful surgeon here and there may remove an excrescence 
 from the latter, and thus reduce the surface to its original con- 
 tour and soundness, but soon it is found that the elements of 
 the disease had not been reached, inasmuch as fresh develop- 
 ments ensue with increased dimensions and obstinacy. So it 
 is with the moral cancers that destroy the fair proportions and 
 the virtue of many city localities. Experience has found them 
 to place all antidotes and remedies at defiance. Their hidden 
 subtleties elude the grasp and the notice of the most acute in- 
 vestigations. The balm of Gilead would be insufficient to 
 counteract the virus constantly issuing from their deep recesses. 
 The public press, the guardian of public morals, has no power 
 in reaching them. The two-edged sword of the pulpit makes 
 no impression upon them. And even the ministers of the law, 
 armed with their overwhelming penalties, and the dark and 
 cold cells of the penitentiary yawning before them, are fre- 
 quently met with a scowl of derision and contempt, and are 
 able to effect little beyond the removal of some external erup- 
 tions, leaving the aliment of moral death again to fester and de- 
 file the fountains of life ; again to send forth their pestiferous 
 exhalations. In the country we have no exhibitions like these ! 
 Nay, we have naught that resembles them, unless it was de- 
 rived from the city. 
 
 It is sometimes said, that in the country the people are pe- 
 nurious ; and of course experience none of the refined pleasures 
 that proceed from the profusion of pecuniary expenditure wit- 
 nessed in the city. This is not the fact. And it is believed, if 
 the point were philosophically scrutinized, the advantage would 
 be in favor of rural locations. It is well that agriculturists 
 are usually cautious in their expenditures. They are obliged to 
 be. Their means are small. These means are the result of 
 severe toil ; and if used with the freedom of city life, would 
 soon be exhausted, leaving destitution in their wake. Thus, 
 what in the beginning is .the result of necessity, soon becomes a 
 habit. And the moral of this habit is most salutary upon the 
 interests of the community. For in the country, we are not ac- 
 customed to see a majority of the people, from the possession 
 of available means, living year after year at the expense of 
 others. They contract no debts for keeping up a show of fash- 
 
 Friendship, like health, ia not duly prized until it be lost. 
 
In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, it creates more wants 
 
 183 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 W 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ionable equipage, which will never be paid. With a frugal 
 mode of living they are satisfied. Well they may be ; for what 
 is so humiliating as the reflection that the garments which cover 
 their nakedness are not and cannot be paid for ? What is so 
 wounding to the conscience as the reflection, that the means by 
 which they have exhibited for years the trappings and the gew- 
 gaws belonging to the rich, have been derived, directly or indi- 
 rectly, without consideration, from the scanty pittance of wid- 
 ows and orphans ? 
 
 Persons who live on their own means are as independent as 
 princes. Their midnight slumbers are not disturbed by thorns 
 in their pillows. When they go abroad, their cheeks are not 
 tinged with crimson on meeting those to whom they have done 
 injustice. Let it be asked if there is no pleasure in such a 
 mode of living? Does not such a state of self-support impart 
 a dignity to character, not elsewhere to be found ? These pep- 
 ple may not, indeed, have the floors of their bouses covered with 
 rich Brussels and Turkey carpets. But then, as an oflFset, they 
 are relieved from the perpetual apprehension of soiling them. 
 They may not have their parlors suiTounded with sofas, and 
 couches, and lounges, and ottomans. Very well ; they do not 
 need them. They are so wearied with their toils as to rest com- 
 fortably on a block of timber or a pine board. They may not 
 have their tables covei'ed over with expensive cut glass and por- 
 celain. With half a dozen kinds of smoking vegetables, and 
 well-flavored bacon, and juicy steaks, and nutritious bread, all 
 from their own premises, they notice not the absence of such 
 torn-fooleries. The odors and the sight of an independent 
 farmer's dinner would draw a sigli from the bosom of a Nabob, 
 if he were not to share in it. 
 
 Scenes must be beautiful which daily view'd 
 Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
 Long knowledge and scrutiny of years. 
 
 One word more on the relative amount of pleasure from what 
 is called refined sympathy in city and country life. In the 
 former may frequently be witnessed romantic and theatric ebul- 
 litions of deep sympathy ; but in many cases they are little else 
 than fugacious spasms ; not like the abiding afiinity of feeling 
 manifested in the country. Is it not a fact that in the city, on 
 one side of an eight-inch partition wall, one may rest in the 
 slumbers of the grave, while on the other side there is mirth 
 and merriment ? Is it not a fact that the inmates of the man- 
 sion on one side of it will be at the theatre, or some other place 
 
 We are greater diipea to our own weakness than to the skill of others. 
 
caoDOt avoid it and live. It makes a nation wise and strong, and 
 
 .a 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 J3 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 189 
 
 of gay amusement, before the inmates of the mansion on the 
 opposite side have wiped away their first flood of tears ? Is it 
 not a fact that successive crowds will meet in the streets the 
 hearse and the funeral train with as little pause or emotion as 
 they would meet the butcher's cart ? All this is natural. The 
 frequency ®f the extinction of human life and funeral processions 
 in the city so familiarizes them to the living multitude, that no 
 impression is made from their occurrence. Our natures must 
 be altered to prevent such a result. However, such is not the 
 case in the country. It is not pretended that in the country 
 there are better natural instincts than in the city ; but the sur- 
 rounding circumstances are less able to paralyze and obliterate 
 them. In the former, sickness and death being of less frequen- 
 cy, and usually of rare occurrence, whenever an individual is 
 assailed by disease, especially if it be severe, a sensation is pro- 
 duced to a circuit of miles. It is made a common topic of con- 
 versation ; there is a daily rush of inquirers, to the premises, 
 concerning its progress, each volunteering to watch or render 
 other assistance. And if attended with a fatal result, there is 
 a general pause, as if each one were a mourner ; and nothing 
 else seemingly engrosses the thoughts till the last offices of 
 regard are administered to the dead. These persons appear to 
 realize the maxim of ancient wisdom, that it is better to go 
 to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting. What 
 agonizing looks when they greet the stricken relatives ! How 
 affectionately do they squeeze the hand ! What kindred teai's 
 tell you, in language not to be misapprehended, that the foun- 
 tains of their own sorrow have been broken up ! 
 
 Let it be asked if theie is nothing in .«uch scenes to stamp a 
 living value on the influences that produce them ? Is there 
 nothing hallowed in such influences? Are they not of more 
 value than gold or silver ? Do they not impart to the soul a 
 refreshing energy, whicli i-aises us above the world and all its 
 delusive joys ? Why is society preferable to the lone solitude 
 of the wilderness? Is it not that others may share in our bliss 
 and in our woes ? That there may be a communion of souls, 
 as well as a contiguity of material forms ? Is it not that those 
 born of different mothers, whose fathers were strangers to 
 each other, who are natives of different lands, may become one 
 in social affection ? Where, on this wreck of moral beauty, 
 presented in a world of sin, is there genuine bliss, if not in hav- 
 ing such persons cluster around us, hang upon our necks, and 
 speak peace to our troubled spirits, when deprived of those of 
 our own blood ? The individual who prizes not such spontane- 
 ous gushes of spiritual association, is a scandal to his species — 
 
 og 
 
 Corruption is like a ball of snow, when once put in motion, must increase. 
 
tiop, more onerous ; we are taxed twice as much by our idleness ; 
 
 190 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 a burlesque on manhood ! And such is one of the peculiar 
 pleasures of rural life ! Alas, do we want nothing from soci- 
 ety but a heartless contiguity of material forms ? That may 
 bo found in the grave-yard ! Or, do we want Society simply to 
 display and to see displayed the ostentation — the glittering and the 
 gaudy phantoms of the rich, and of those who would Ae thought 
 rich — something merely to delight the eye ? If this is all you 
 want, let me take you to a Western prairie, covered over, beyond 
 any limits the eye can reach, with one ocean of flowers, com- 
 pared to the beauty of which, the climax of human art is naught 
 but a bagatelle ! Or, let me take you to some of nature's wild- 
 nesses, where the cascade delights you with its sparkling bubbles, 
 or the projecting precipice or the rolling cataract awes you 
 with their majesty ; for verily, in comparison with these, the 
 utmost human inventions are but as the, playthings of childhood ! 
 
 Hide not thy tears ; weep boldly — and be prcmd 
 To give the flowing virtue manly way : 
 'Tis nature's mart, to know an honest heart by. 
 Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt. 
 In soft adoption of another's Borrow. 
 
 Allusion may be made to another topic. No one can imagine 
 the interest that is felt in watching the progress of vegetation, 
 unless he has had experience in this department of rural science. 
 The agriculturist, with nothing more than common mental en- 
 dowments, may here become a philosopher, an enthusiast, a 
 profound scholar in natural history. With the best of all pos- 
 sible laboratories before him, he becomes his own teacher — a 
 most skillful lecturer. That is, if so disposed. A farmer may 
 here, in this bianch of knowledge, become as learned as the 
 professor in university halls. He may become so engrossed 
 with the subject as to watch the germination of some particular 
 seed, the daily growth of its first germs, and all ulterior devel- 
 opments, with a solicitude intense and constant, like that of the 
 astronomer, who spends his midnight hours, for years, to ascer- 
 tain the laws of the cometary system, or to discover some new 
 satellite to those distant and gigantic globes which constitute 
 the outposts of our system. We almost envy the astronomer 
 his joy, when comprehending some new fact in the science to 
 which he devotes himself ; if the fact is an important one, the 
 plaudits of the civilized world are heaped upon him, and his 
 name descends in triumph to the latest posterity. The discov- 
 ery of the laws which govern the circulation of blood in the ani- 
 mal system has m^ide the name of Harvey immortal. How 
 
 ■Works of genuine merit are seldom: vei-j popular in their own day. 
 
encouraging is this leason to the impatient and desponding 1 And 
 
 a 
 
 a, 
 -a 
 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 191 
 
 analogous this to the fluids which circulate and give life in the 
 vegetable kingdom ! Here, too, persons liave acquired imper- 
 ishable fame. Others may still do it. The mysteries of this 
 kingdom are, by no means, all unfolded. The earth is full of 
 them. It may be presumed, that the career of discovery therein 
 is now in its infancy ; that there will be the same opportunities, 
 even with unborn generations, to become renowned, that there 
 was for Linnaeus ! 
 
 We know, too, with what assiduity the inventor of machinery 
 anticipates all results flowing from his labors. And we know 
 with what unceasing apprehension the merchant broods over his 
 departing ships, when ploughing distant oceans, and till their 
 return assure him of profitable adventure. Not unlike this, in 
 character, are the thoughts of the man who tills the ground. 
 Hence, the agriculturist may be interested in the progress of 
 vegetable life, in a two-fold measure : as a philosopher, in search- 
 ing out the laws which control it ; and as a pohtical economist, 
 in reaching its pecuniary advantages. In the former, he is gov- 
 erned like any man of science, for the intellectual satisfaction to 
 be received ; in the latter, he is governed like the man of busi- 
 ness, for the prospect of means on which to subsist. He may 
 therefore rationally watch the growth of his melons, and cab- 
 bage, and strawberries, and peaches, to say nothing of the more 
 important branches of his labor, with as much earnestness as 
 the merchant contemplates the profits on a cargo of teas or 
 silks. Perhaps the merchant may sneer at the comparison. Be 
 it so ; but it may be said to him, there is more of philosophy, 
 of mental culture, connected with the labors of agriculture, than 
 in speculating on the profits of merchandise. If an agiicultur- 
 ist, owing to his greater skill, obtains a better crop of wheat, or 
 corn, or potatoes, than any one else has obtained under similar 
 circumstances, thereby also teaching all others to do the same, 
 is it no cause of self-complacency ; is it no occasion for the plau- 
 dits of the community ? Which is the greater benefactor to 
 society, the merchant, who, by accident, as it were, clears ten 
 thousand dollars from a single voyage of his ship, or the man 
 that, in all coming time and throughout our broad land, makes 
 two spires of grass or two ears of corn grow, where only one 
 grew before ? Besides, if the merchant occasionally obtains 
 a better profit on his investment than the farmer, he may, 
 ten times to one, make no profit at all, and perhaps he may 
 experience loss, while the other is constantly receiving a living 
 profit. 
 
 However, the profits of agriculture make no part of our pres- 
 ent inquiry. Dollars and cents are not elements of the pleasure 
 
 The powerful are more deaf to the voice of experience than their inferiors. 1 
 
he 19, or ought to be, the band which unites the house together— or 
 
 ^ 
 
 a> 
 
 ,a 
 -** 
 o 
 a 
 
 OS 
 
 a 
 
 T3 
 
 1^ 
 
 192 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 of which we now speat. It has other food on which to mature 
 itself. Think you that the astronomer is induced to his midnight 
 vigils by the expectation of lucre ? Was it to get wealth that 
 Franklin was induced to tame the lightning's flash ? 'No, he 
 had a higher aspiration ! The divinity within yielded him an 
 ethereal sustenance ! Wealth is to certain degrees truly con- 
 venient. We cannot live on air alone. Yet, at times, the 
 immortal nature of man seems to look with contempt on all ma- 
 terial objects ; to soar, with unsubdued energy, among the 
 creations of infinite wisdom ; bringing light out of dark«ess ; 
 demonstrating to an admiring world truths immutable and eter- 
 nal, where mystery had hitherto enshrouded it in a mantle of 
 impenetrable gloom. In rural hfe such a spirit may have ample 
 scope ; and, till demonstration is reached, he need not fail of 
 the most exquisite delight in contemplating the wisdom and the 
 goodness of God, wherever he turns his eye'— even in the dew- 
 drop, the swelling bud, the opening flower, and in the rising 
 fragrant odor. 
 
 Nature — faint emblem of Omnipotence ! — 
 
 Shap'd by Hia hftrid — the shadow of His light — 
 
 The veil in which He wraps His majesty, 
 
 And through whose mantling folds he deigns to show 
 
 Of His mysterious, awful attributes, 
 
 And dazzling splendors, all man's feeble thought 
 
 Can grasp, uncrush'd, or vision bear, unquench'd. 
 
 This chapter has expanded beyond the limits assigned to it. 
 Nevertheless, one other source of pleasure in rural life. must be 
 noticed. Had the usage of the legal advocate been adopted, 
 this one would have been placed first in order, instead of bring- 
 ing up the rear of the argument ; for it will be found to possess 
 sublimated considerations surpassing any that have been named. 
 I now allude to the pleasure, notwithstanding the toil, of feed- 
 ing and nurturing the various animals of a farm. Possibly 
 the suggestion will create a smile. But, if the reader is at 
 first inclined to scoff, he will soon become a convert to our 
 assertion. 
 
 If we were to attempt fonning an idea of the blessedness of 
 the Supreme Being, how should we proceed ? In what should 
 we suppose it to consist ? In his power ; in his wisdom ; or in 
 his goodness — the exercise of his benevolence — the paternal 
 care of his creatures ? No doubt all his attributes are elements 
 contributing to it. Without the agency of either one of them 
 his nature would be incomplete. In the absence of either, the 
 
 It is better to have wisdom without learning than learning without wisdom. 
 
pursue our studies iu the closet, whether we labor in the counting-house or 
 
 TOILS AXD PLEASURES OP RURAL LIFE. 193 
 
 a 
 
 •3 
 
 -§ 
 
 agency of the others might be essentially interrupted. Never- 
 theless, if we reason from analogy or from well-known recog- 
 nized principles of truth, we shall say that it must consist essen- 
 tially in the latter — in the exhibition of his moral powers — the 
 doing good to the myriads of the creatures he has made. In 
 man, which do we most admire, his strength, his genius, or his 
 moral attributes? Suppose he were a giant in stature and 
 power. All this might be used in the destruction of his species. 
 Suppose his intellect surpassed that of all other men. It might 
 be exercised solely to the injury of those around him. This is 
 frequently seen. But to the good man ; the individual who 
 spends all his time and substance in acts of beneficence ; in 
 feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, healing the sick, and 
 raising up the bowed down — what homage do we spontaneously 
 yield ! If there is anything on earth we might rationally envy, 
 it is the happiness he experiences in the bestowment of benefac- 
 tions. Why do men toil without reluctance ? Why do they 
 traverse the broad ocean, encountering storms and perils? 
 Why do they visit distant and sickly climes ? Generally, it is 
 that they may the better provide for their children and those 
 dependent on them. This consideration buoys them up when 
 they would otherwise sink. This tranquillizes their disturbed 
 bosoms. This drives away their fears of danger. This gives 
 thera renewed vigor of body and mind. 
 
 To provide for our children is indeed a duty. To labor for 
 them beyond what is really necessary in some cases, may be 
 induced by family pride. But in all such labor there is a pleas- 
 urable emotion. In the performance of it, to each muscular 
 effort the soul adds a fresh act of expansion. The origin of the 
 motive which induces us to administer to others of our species, 
 as they have need and we have means, is of a kindred sort. So, 
 likevrise, it is in no small degree when we nurture and feed the 
 various animals of the farm. We do it because it is for our in- 
 terest. We do it because it is our duty. And, we may do it 
 because of the pleasure ^e receive. By what process of exe- 
 gesis can we conclude that no delight is felt in relieving animal 
 wants, unless it be to those of our species ? Boast as much as 
 we will of our superiority over the brute creation, it is a fact we 
 can neither controvert nor disguise, that all animal functions are 
 quite similar. To the most loathsome and filthy of the brute 
 creation we cannot ascribe any physical organization, from the 
 operations of which, however unseemly or ofiensive, we are 
 ourselves relieved. And their liability to bodily suffering is 
 analogous to our own. Is the gnawing of hunger any less 
 painful in the dumb creation than in the human kind ? Why 
 
 Philosophy is to poetry what old age is to youth — facts against fiction. 
 
and dutiful deportment toward their parents and superiors. It 
 
 194 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 
 
 P. 
 
 may not the agony of a broken bone, of, inward maladies, and of 
 cold and storm so intense as to deprive of life, be as acute in 
 one case as in the other ? By what law of analysis do we infer 
 that the having four legs instead of two, or having wings in- 
 stead of arms, creates an exemption from bodily pain ? We 
 shudder at the thought of seeing a human being starved to 
 death, or obhged to subsist on a moiety required by nature. 
 Why not shudder when we witness it in the brute kingdom ? 
 To relieve want in the former case imparts the most elevated 
 emotion of which the soul is susceptible. Why may not, at 
 least, a measure of this emotion be felt in the latter case ? 
 
 Are the benefactions of the Deity confined to his creature, 
 man? Do not the monsters of the broad, deep ocean, gambol 
 under the influence of the abundance he provides for them ? 
 Do not the cattle upon a thousand hills and the untamed beasts 
 of the forest, as well as ourselves, feed upon the treasure he 
 hath made ready ? Do not the myriads of the feathered throng 
 which fill the air with their melody, likewise receive their food 
 from him ? And who upholds and imparts life and joy to the 
 countless thousands of insects, which sport in the summer's sun 
 for a few days, and are then no more, giving place to other 
 thousands of other gradations and varieties ? It , is the same 
 Being that upholdeth man as in the hollow of his hand. Even 
 the sparrow, so small and valueless in our estimation, may be as 
 much an object of his paternal kindness as the highest seraph 
 which ministers about his throne. Who, but God, whose ten- 
 der mercies encompass all his works ; who clothes the lilies of 
 the field, though they neither toil nor spin ; who, but he, gives 
 instinct to the gaudy-winged butterfly and the beautiful hum- 
 ming-bird, to dart from flower to flower, in quest of food ? This 
 he delighteth to do. In such a dispensation consisteth the 
 glory of his character ; if possible, more than in administering 
 to the inhabitants of the heavenly spheres. If God delight to 
 do this, shall not we delight to do it, so far as we may be able ; 
 especially to the creatures committed to our care and designed ■ 
 for our use ? ** 
 
 When we consider this in reference to the principles of mora:! 
 duty, we are coostrained to form a low estimate of that man's 
 religious susceptibilities who feels no especial obligation to ren- 
 der comfortable those creatures for which he is God's steward. 
 It is his duty to do it; and it should be his pleasure to do it, 
 as a man of Christian feeling and responsibility. But, aside 
 from considerations of interest or duty, the social •susceptibili- 
 ties of that individual must be of a low order, if he can experi- 
 ence no emotion of bliss when exercising the assiduities now 
 
 There are hundreds that want energy for one that wants ambition. 
 
intoxicate — one tlie miod, the olber the body. The thirst 
 
 n 
 
 I" 
 
 TOILS AND PLEASURES OF RURAL LIFE. 195 
 
 inculcated. The ruralist makes his circuit, no matter how fre- 
 quently, among liis stock of cattle, horses, swine, sheep, and 
 fowls ; and with what beseeching looks do they greet him ! 
 He is appealed to, not, verily, in a language of words, but- with 
 beaming eyes and significant actions, as unmistakable as if they 
 were masters of human eloquence. Let him administer to their 
 respective wants, and how happy and contented they are! 
 Nay, let him do this habitually, and they will know him as 
 readily as his children would know him ; not heeding the voice 
 of a stranger, they would follow him in crowds, as if to ex- 
 press their affection and gratitude for what he had done for 
 them. The person who is unmoved when hundreds of such 
 eyes are upon him — when importuned by such impressiv* mute 
 eloquence for an administration to their wants, or in gratitude 
 for what he had previously bestowed — the person who is un- 
 moved at such a scene, is to be pitied for his destitution of some 
 of the most precious capabilities for human bliss. To the per- 
 son of a well-trained mind, th« enjoyment thus received will be 
 little inferior to that experienced about his own family hearth, 
 and around his own family table. Nor is this all. It is no un- 
 common thing that one meets with ingratitude from those in 
 human society to wftom he has extended kind oflferings. Not 
 so is it with our domestic animals ! It is on divine record, that 
 the people of the Most High did not know ; that Israel did not 
 consider; but when did ever it occur, that the ox did not 
 know his owner, or tlie ass his master's crib ? And instances 
 are frequent and familiar to us of the fidelity of the horse and 
 the dog, that would put to shame the too frequent perfidy of 
 man. 
 
 The heart is hard in aature, and unfit 
 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 
 Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 
 To love and friendship both, that is not jdeased 
 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 
 ^or feels their -happiness augment his «wb. 
 
 W 
 
 p- 
 I 
 
 TO 
 
 s- 
 
 a. 
 
 iPride is a paradoxical jhrttteus, eterfially divetBe, yet ever tiie same. 
 
would crush the energies of othera, are to them but so many 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 ,1 
 
 a 
 
 PULPIT ELOQUENCE IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 MRS. WELBY. 
 
 The day was declining^the breeze in its glee 
 Had left the fair blossoms to sing on the sea. 
 As the sun in gorgeousness, radiant and still. 
 Dropped down like a geta frem the brow of the hill : 
 ^ One tremulous star, in the gloiy of June, 
 
 Came out with a smile and sat down by the moon, 
 
 As she graced her blue throne with the pride of a queen. 
 
 The smiles of her loveliness gladdening the scene. 
 
 
 s: 
 
 The scene was enchanting ! in distance away ? 
 
 Rolled the foam-crested waves of the CKesapeake Hay, S- 
 
 While, bathed in the moonlight, the village was seen, 
 With the church in the distance, that stood on the green ; 
 The soft-sloping meadows lay brightly unroUed 
 With their mantles of verdure and blossoms ot gold ; 
 
 .a And the earth in her beauty, forgetting to grieve, 
 
 I Lay asleep in her bloom on the bosom of ev6. 
 
 A light-hearted child, I had wandered away 
 From the spot where my footsteps had gamboled all day. 
 And free as a bird's was the song of my soul. 
 As I heard the wild waters exultingly roll ; 
 While light'ning my heart as I sported along 
 With bursts of low laughter and snatches of sotig, 
 ^ I struck in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod 
 By the feet that went up to the worship of God. 
 
 As I traced its green windings, a murmur of prayer, ^ 
 
 With the hymn of the worshippers, rose on the air ; 
 
 And, drawn by the links of its sweetness along, 
 
 I stood unobserved in the midst of the throng : 
 
 For a while my young spirit still wandered about 
 
 With the birds, and the winds, that were singing without ; 
 
 But birds, waves, and zephyrs were quickly forgot, 
 
 In one angel-like being that brightened the spot. 
 
 The mind, like the eye, sees all other things rather than itself. 
 
•? 
 
 and obaerTing a twig in the basket ready to bud, he planted it in 
 
 PULPIT ELOaUENCE IN THE COUNTRY. 197 
 
 In stature majestic, apart from the throng, 
 
 ^ He stood in his beauty, th« theme of my song ! 
 
 ^ His cheek pale with fervor — the blue orbs above 
 
 a Lit with the splendors of youth and of love ; 
 
 a Yet the heart-glowing raptures that beamed from those eyes 
 Seemed saddened by sorrows, and chastened by sighs. 
 As if the young heart in its bloom had grown cold 
 With its love unrequited, its sorrows untold. I 
 
 c 
 
 _ ID 
 
 g, Such language as his I may never recall ; 1 
 
 But his theme was salvation — salvation to all ; * 
 
 And the souls of a thousand in ecstasy hung », 
 
 On the manna-like sweetness that dropped from his tongue : - 
 Not alone on the ear his wild eloquence stole ; , 
 
 (5 Enforced by each gesture, it sank to the soul. 
 
 Till it seemed that an angel had brightened the sod, ^^ 
 
 And brought to each bosom a message from God. 3 
 
 B 
 
 He spoke of the Saviour — ^what pictures he di«w ! 
 ^ The scene of His suflferings rose clear on my view ; — ^ 
 
 ;§ The cross^the rude cross where He suflFered and died ; g- 
 
 ^ The gush of bright crimson that flowed from His wde ; g. 
 
 ■o The cup of His sorrows, the Wormwood and gall ; 
 
 The darkness that mantled the earth as a pall ; 
 
 The garland of thorns ; and the d«mon-like crews. 
 
 Who knelt as they scoffed Him — " Hail, King of the Jews !" 
 
 He spake, and it seemed that his statue-like form g 
 
 Expanded and glowed as his spirit grew warm — ^ 
 
 — His tone so impassioned, so melting in air, 
 S As, touched with compassion, he ended in prayer, ^ 
 
 a His hands clasped above him, his blue orbs upthrown, <§ 
 
 Still pleading for sins that were never his own. 
 While that mouth, where such sweetness ineffable clung. 
 Still spoke, though expression had died on his tongue. 
 
 3. 
 
 God ! what emotions the speaker awoke ! 
 
 A mortal he seemed — yet a Deity spoke ; 
 
 A man — yet so far from humanity riven ! §_ 
 
 On earth — ^yet so closely connected with heaven ! "|. 
 
 I* How oft in my fancy I've pictured him there, 8. 
 
 ^ As he stood in that triumph of passion and prayer, P" 
 
 With his eyes closed in rapture — their transient eclipse 
 Made bright by the smiles that illumined his lips ! 
 
 The shortest Ufu is long «nough il it leads to a better one. 
 
rf3 
 
 eeeestially benefit and to improve them, is a work fraught with 
 
 198 PULPIT , ELOQUENCE IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 There's a charm in delivery, a jnagical art, 
 
 That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip of the heart ; 
 
 'Tis the glance — the expression — the well-chosen word. 
 
 By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred—^ g 
 
 The smile — the mute gesture — the soul-startling pause — 
 
 The eye's sweet expression, that melts while it awes — 
 
 a The lip's soft persuasion — rifs musical tone — 
 
 ^ 0, such was the charm of that eloquent one ! 
 
 c 
 
 The time is long past, yet how clearly defined 
 
 That bay, churcli, and village, float up on my mind ! 
 
 I see amid azure the moon in her pride, 
 •$ With the sweet little trembler, that sat by lier side ; 
 ^ I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along, 
 " Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song ; 
 
 And I tread in the pathwa,y half- worn o'er the sod 
 
 s« By the feet tbat went up to the worship of God. ^ 
 
 ife * 
 
 V The time is long past, yet what visions I see ! 2. 
 
 " I The past, the dim past, is the present to me ; ^ 
 
 a ; I am standing once more 'mid that heart-stricken throng — B 
 
 3 A vision floats up — 'tis the theme of my song-^ 
 
 All glorious and .bright as a spirit of air, 
 
 The liglit like a halo encircling his hair — 
 
 As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love. 
 
 That whisper of Jesus— and point us above. 
 
 5 How sweet to my heart is the picture I've traced ! 
 
 o ' Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced, 
 
 ■as Till memory, the fond one, that sits in the soul, 
 
 [S Took up the frail links, and connected the whole : 
 
 jj As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee, , 
 
 o 
 .0. 
 
 ,=• As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me ; ;g^ 
 
 > Bound the chords of my heart they have tremblingly clung, g; 
 And the epho it brings is the song I have sung. | f 
 
 1. 
 -5 
 »*- 
 
 I- 
 
 I 
 
 The youn^ianc^ihat their fellies are mistaken hj the M for liappiness. 
 
be wrought ; for Tice, virtue, and time, are three things that 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 s 
 
 9 
 
 .s 
 
 
 m 
 
 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 None can describe the sweets of country life. 
 
 But those blest men that do enjoy and taste thetti. 
 
 Plain husbandmen, tho' far below our pitch 
 
 Of fortune plac'd, enjoy a wealth above us : 
 
 To whom the earth, with true and bounteous justice, 
 
 Free from war's cares, returns an easy food. 
 
 They breathe the fresh and uncorrupted air. 
 
 And by clear brooks enjoy untroubled sleeps. 
 
 Their state is fearless and secure, enrich'd 
 
 With several blessings, such as greatest kings 
 
 Might in true justice envy, and themselves 
 
 Would count too happy, if they knew them well. 
 
 It was designed, in saying what is here to be said, to give the i 
 caption a different cognomen than the one adopted. How to j 
 live genteelly was first selected, but laid aside, lest some over- 
 fastidious persons should take offence from an apprehension 
 that there can be nothing genteel in the primitive simplicity of 
 country life. For although we write mainly for those in the 
 country, we do not wish to disturb the equanimity of our city 
 friends and cousins. If we can prevent the marring of their 
 sensibility, we will turn a little to the right or to the left in pur- 
 suing our humble lucubrations. Our philosophy is not to dis- 
 turb, unnecessarily, the opinions of others beyond our sphere 
 of action, though we believe them absurd and ridiculous. The 
 world is big enough for all ; and, if one undertakes to reduce 
 everything atid everybody to his own dimensions and his own 
 taste, he will lose his labor, and probably die a pauper. We 
 have lived too long, and know too much of human nature to 
 enlist in any such crusade. In the language of sportsmen, we 
 do not intend to waste our ammunition upon game we cannot 
 reach, any more than they would do it on crows, when the 
 state pays no bounty for their destruction. They reserve their 
 powder and shot for game that can be secured, and when se- 
 cured, will be found of intrinsic value. We aim to do the same. 
 
 Ne\'ertheless, lest we should be deemed not duly courteous, i 
 we will say a few words on whnt is called gentility, as we have 
 
 The old fancy that their gravity is mistaken by the young for wisdom. 
 
ascertain the real magnitude and importance of distant good, 
 
 200 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 3 
 
 a 
 
 60 
 
 alluded to it. The term is a good one, in its original significa- 
 tion; and, oftentinaes, we scarcely know bow to express our- 
 selves in the absence of it without circumlocution ; yet we 
 almost abhor it, such has been the abuse of it. AH know that 
 some of the prettiest and most innocent amusements have been 
 denounced and discarded by decent society, because they have so 
 generally been prostituted to the vilest puiposes. And the 
 term of which we are speaking has been so frequently appro- 
 priated to such ridiculous fooleries, that we sometimes think we 
 will banish it from our vocabulary. 
 
 The best lexicographers call gentility politeness of manners — • 
 easy, graceful behavior ; manners of well-bred people ; genteel- 
 ness. Hence, gentleman or gentlewoman. All this is very 
 well. Genteel is the adjective or qualifier to the noun intended 
 to express the same thing. But how different is this from the 
 sense in which the term is frequently used ! Not a few apply 
 it to the mode of living rather than to personal attributes of 
 any description. Hence, it a family maintain a style of expen- 
 diture denoting wealth ; occupy a large house stocked with ele- 
 gant furniture ; employ a full retinue of servants; make costly 
 entertainments; control ample equestrian establishments; and, 
 above all, abstract themselves from the very appearance of use- 
 ful occupation — it is said to live genteelly, although not individ- 
 ually possessing the personal accomplishments which we have 
 designated. And persons who put this construction on gentil- 
 ity, have a most decided horror of everything that may lead to 
 the suspicion that they employ themselves habitually or occa- 
 sionally in ofiBces usually performed by hired female laborers. 
 To be seen in cooking a plain meal of victuals ; in the process 
 of ordinary needlework ; in bending over the wash-tub ; or in 
 many of the needful attentions to their own children, would call 
 forth the most distressing apologies, inasmuch as they deem 
 such services incompatible with genteel caste. 
 
 The subject cannot be better illustrated than by the follow- 
 ing incident. A few years since, we saw on board one of the 
 splendid, palace-hke ferry-boats, plying between New York and 
 Brooklyn, a woman, perhaps a lady, abundantly loaded down 
 with silks and jewelry, but of the most ordinary features, nei- 
 ther well formed nor expressive of intelligence. It is not impor- 
 tant, to give the items of her dress, or any conjecture of its 
 cost. With her was a female attendant,, most likely in the ca- 
 pacity of a servant, neatly attired in calico, but with a counte- 
 nance tenfold more intelligent and winning than that of the 
 other. Besides these two personages was an infant child, and 
 also a pet dog. The child was in the arms of the servant, who 
 
 Age, without cheerfulness, is a Lapland Winter without a sun. 
 
it defeats itself. Another cause is an aversion to labor. The 
 
 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 201 
 
 bestowed the caresses due from the mother; and the dog was 
 in the arms of the former, who seemed intent on bestowing 
 upon it the assiduities that were due to her own offspring, but 
 of which she took no more notice than though it had been a 
 bundle of dirty clothes designed for the washerwoman. On 
 leaving the boat, each with the charge specified proceeded to 
 their joint place of destination. Whether the mother of the 
 child, at night, took with her into bed the canine companion, 
 leaving the babe to be dry nursed with the Irish girl, we have 
 not learnt. The presumption is, that when on board the boat, 
 or in proceeding from the boat to their dwelling, she would 
 have been considered supremely vulgar had she taken the child 
 into her own arms, and given up the dog to the servant. But 
 doing as she did was the quintessence of modern gentility. 
 
 We are now prepared to say how persons in the country may 
 live prettily. Although the reader may understand the gene- 
 ral import of the term, a little exegesis upon it will be given. 
 Among its numerous applications, it may denote diminutive 
 beauty ; a pleasing form without stateliness ; a pleasing man- 
 ner ; neatness and good taste, without magnificence or splendor ; 
 and an adaptation to convenience or utility where there has 
 been no great expenditure. We should not, therefore, say that 
 a large and costly edifice, whether a church, or a hotel, or a 
 public hall, is pretty ; but a dwelling-house of moderate dimen- 
 sions, designed for family convenience, and finished with neat- 
 ness and good taste, may be so designated. Indeed, we scarcely 
 know any word in the English language, in such an application 
 of it, more expressive. And it would be a comical departure 
 from the good usage of language to affirm that an elephant, or 
 a buffalo, or a whale, is pretty, but we may with propriety say 
 so of handsome birds, or calves, or kittens. To say that women 
 or children are pretty, is complimentary ; sometimes much more 
 so than to say they are beautiful, because it includes moral and 
 social attributes as well as those which are physical. But to say 
 of men of stature and character that they are pretty, would 
 ordinarily be esteemed a sneer. Should, for instance, any one 
 say that General Winfield Scott, or any one else of his physical 
 proportions and princely deportment and bearing, is a pretty 
 man, would be an approximation to a burlesque and a slander. 
 And we speak of furniture in a house or personal attire as being 
 pretty, when it is of moderate cost, but neat, convenient, and 
 comely in appearance. 
 
 The first article we shall name in the programme of pretty 
 living, because most prominent, is the dwelling-house ; and, to 
 give it this rank, it need not be of any given size or style of con- 
 
 Cheerfulness should be encouraged in youth, or it cannot be expected in old age. 
 
 L 
 
the widely destructive influence if bad example. To a£Srm 
 
 202 How TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COI7NTRV. 
 
 I 
 
 ■I 
 t 
 
 structipn. It may be of the most moderate dimensions, and of 
 the most simple architecture. Both the size and the style of 
 structure may be accommodated to the means of the occupant 
 and to the size of his family. The family of one may be so 
 small as to live more comfortably in a house of two rooms only, 
 than the family of another in one of five or six rooms. So, 
 likewi.se, what is called a log-house, may be so constructed, 
 even though its floors are of hard gravel, instead of painted 
 wood or carpets, and be kept so perfectly neat, that we might 
 think the inmates lived prettily. More than once we have, 
 at the West, lodged in such a one, having beds and victuals 
 that would have done no discredit to our reputable hotels. On 
 one occasion, in particular, in the room we occupied was a beap 
 of nice bed-clothes of the size of half a cord of wood. There 
 was indeed a floor of rough boards, but so abundant in cracks, 
 that we, in the evening, dropped a penknife with which, in 
 Yankee manner, we were amusing ourself, and it fell through 
 the floor to the ground, so that in the morning we had to crawl 
 under the house, there being no cellar, to get it out. But the 
 smoking supper and breakfast furnished for us would have 
 done good to a dainty epicure. 
 
 The above, indeed, has been an extreme case ; to ourself it 
 certainly was ; yet no one could deny that the family occupy- 
 ing this humble dwelling-place lived prettily. The children 
 were intelligent and neatly dressed ; and the mother had a dig- 
 nity of manners and a self-respecting deportment, that would, 
 under other circumstances, give her character in a fashionable 
 mansion. And if we gather up reminiscences, reaching half a 
 century backward, we shall find instances of pretty living on this 
 plain scale, even in our Atlantic cities. It would be well were 
 they now found in greater abundance. Well would it be for 
 the coming generation, if a portion of what is now spent un- 
 wisely in a fashionable display of houses, furniture, and equi- 
 page, were kept in reserve for a day of adversity. When a 
 youth, .perhaps forty-five years since, we were accustomed- to 
 visit frequently, in one of our Atlantic cities, a widow, with 
 two sons and two daughters, having but one chamber of about 
 fifteen feet square besides a garret. This chamber was the 
 kitchen, the parlor, and to herself and daughtei's, the feed-rooiti. 
 Here, with .a cheap carpet, a good bed, a table, and a few 
 chairs, they all lived prettily indeed — everything was the per- 
 sonification of neatness itself. Here was content and compe- 
 tence ; and the two sons were educated at college. Who can 
 look on such a picture, with all its tints fresh and bold, without 
 a melancholy pleasure ? EspeeiaHy when we connect with it 
 
 Courage is like a diamond — very brilliant, and not changed by fire. 
 
the utility ; aod he that benefits them by some mode vhich they 
 
 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 203 
 
 .3 
 
 •Si 
 
 m 
 « 
 
 ai 
 
 a 
 i 
 
 a 
 
 the :fact, that 'those five individuals, one after another, with the 
 •consumptive hectic, have descended into the grave ! As a ime- 
 morial of isuch a family and pretty living, we still have with us 
 two highly respectable clergymen, the grandsons of that ven- 
 erated widowj one of them settled in the city of New York. 
 And at the same era in our life, in that same city, we knew 
 ■large wholesale merchants, so careful of their expendi- 
 tures, that two families would occupy the same house, at a rent 
 to each of about one hundred dollars. We know not but what 
 they lived as prettily as persons of corresponding rank now do, 
 ejipending from four to five thousand dollars annually. 
 
 What has been said about the family mansion, will a:pply 
 equally well to the household furniture. As a woman of taste 
 and ambition can make a small tenement comely and comforta- 
 'ble, so ^he can polish and arrange a few articles of furniture in 
 a manner to please the eye of every one that beholds them. A 
 little furniture, and that of a cheap character, if well chosen. 
 Well arranged, kept clean and well polished, will be more effec- 
 tive in meeting the commendation of sensible persons, than 
 thousands of doUai-s expended injudiciously, and for articles 
 simply lodged in the several apartments of the house without 
 taste or order, and then suffered to look, for want of subse- 
 quent care, as if they had been stored in a common warehouse, 
 e'Xposed to dust and all kinds of rough usage. If the farmer's 
 wife, such as we have here designated, could have for an expend- 
 iture in furniture the sum frequently allotted by one of our city 
 merchants for parlor window-curtains, she would feel as happy 
 as a princess, and would make her little cottage the admira- 
 tion of all who visit it. Those who expend from five to ten 
 thousand dollars for the fixtures of a single dwelling-house, 
 can little imagine at how cheap a rate the individual of 
 whom we are speaking can fit up one in which a family can 
 live prettily. 
 
 But while we advocate the most rigid economy in this depart- 
 ment of rural life ; while we depend more on the good taste 
 and the well-directed assiduity ^f the farm wife than we do on 
 the funds of her husband, we still maintain that she should 
 receive from him annually an allowance for this purpose as lib- 
 eral as other demands upon him will admit. A neglect to do 
 so is to her a species Of cmelty, which, if continued, may 
 break down lier spirits. The provision shou/ld not simply be to 
 provide articles of absolute Necessity, but to gratify her taste. 
 Nor is it, especially if pecuniary means are limited, advisable to 
 do it all at once ; let there be annual additions ; one article one 
 year, something else the next year, and so on ; always procur- 
 
 Id 'great cities are found excesses not ifonad in the country. 
 
our own intentions, than by discovering those of our enemy. 
 
 204 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 & 
 
 
 ing good articles instead of inferior ones ; so that there will be 
 no occasion, when once obtained, to cast them off. Thus, spend- 
 ing ten dollars or more yearly for furniture in a farm-house, 
 nothing being cast away or destroyed, by the middle of life, 
 when the children are becoming grown up, there will be no lack 
 of everything needed for convenience or ornament. 
 
 Has the husband nothing analogous to this on which to sus- 
 tain his own spirits, and on which his own ambitious feelings 
 cati receive nourishment ? Surely he has ! To him is spread 
 out, for this purpose, his entire farm, with all its fixtures and 
 appendages. If a neighbor or a friend calls on him, here are 
 for inspection his well-cultivated fields, his abundant crops, his 
 well-conditioned cattle and horses, his good fences, and the 
 utensils and implements required in agricultural labor. These 
 are his available capital ; on them he relies for a remuneration 
 for his toils ; to them he refers with the complacency that man- 
 ufacturers refer to their mills, their spindles, and their looms ; 
 or the merchant refers to his ships and his merchandise. But 
 what is there for the farmer's wife to use in a similar way with 
 her friends as occasion may arise ? There is naught but her 
 domestic apartments. If these are neat and clean, and duly 
 ornamented with furniture, she can look there with satisfaction. 
 She can show thera to her friends ; she pan expatiate on their 
 merits. To her, a well adjusted parlor and bed-rooms are the 
 same as the farm and its appendages are to her husband — a 
 source of pride and ambition. 
 
 The resources of the farm wife are by no means exhausted 
 in the particulars specified. Her tact and taste are even more 
 extraordinary in the culinary department. She may not, indeed, 
 produce on her table the variety of meats, or pastry, or condi- 
 ments, supposed necessary by the professed gastronomist to ac- 
 celerate his appetite ; but the freshness of the naaterials used 
 by her in connection with the diversified modes of preparation 
 render all artificial means for creating an appetite wholly un- 
 necessary. The danger will be that he will eat too much, and 
 not that he want in appetite to eat what he needs. At the 
 hotel he may spend fifteen minutes in making a selection from 
 the long catalogue of fare, of what he will take ; and perhaps, 
 after he has tried his soup, his roast beef, his venison, or his 
 boiled mutton, he may feel dissatisfied with the whole, and de- 
 nounce the cooks for their want of skill. But let him sit down 
 at the table of the farmer's wife to a dish of potluck, and bo- 
 fore one would have time to read over the bill of fare at the 
 Astor House, the gastric depositories of our epicure would be 
 completely filled with plain boiled salted pork and chicken, po^ 
 
 In the East wonaen are choBcn wholly for their personal charms. 
 
timid caution of age. Manhood is the isthmus between the two ex- 
 
 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 205 
 
 g 
 
 •s 
 
 tatoes, squash, turnip, and cauliflower. The secret of this is, 
 the salted pork which comes from the farmer's cellar is as much 
 superior to that article found in the market, as the best loaf 
 sugar is to molasses sugar ; and there is also about the same 
 difference between the vegetables found on his table, and those 
 found on the tables supplied by hucksters. 
 
 It is possible that the word placed at the head of this chap- 
 ter for a motto is not sufficiently comprehensive and emphatic 
 to express all that is implied in what we here say of the farm- 
 er's wife in relation to good living. Admitting that to be the 
 fact, it is not easy to decide what is living prettily, if it be not 
 the fruition of the best fare at a very moderate expenditure. 
 But however excellent may be the smoking viands on the 
 farmer's table, when duly prepared; much would be added to the 
 zest with which they are received, if more attention were paid 
 generally to the table furniture. It cannot be denied that a 
 nice clean table-cloth, a supply of comely dishes, spoons, cas- 
 tors, knives and forks duly arranged, not only impart a relish for 
 what is in the dishes, but make an impression that the family 
 live prettily. Cheap as such articles now are, it is surprising 
 that they are not more abundantly provided. On the other 
 hand, if the table furniture is in a ruinous condition — if it has 
 been cast upon the table in wild disorder — if the whole indi- 
 cate a sad estrangement from needful purifications, a relish for 
 the repast is greatly impaired. For such negligence there is no 
 excuse. The excuse usually given, that none but the members 
 of the family are present to witness it, is about as satisfactory 
 as it would be for all the members of the family going to the 
 table with unwashen hands because none but themselves are 
 present to witness the indecency. It is a species of domestic 
 economy with which we have no fellowship, that a family live 
 like pigs, when by themselves ; and that all their efforts for 
 good cookery, table furniture, and good fare, are to be produced 
 only once in three or four months, when visitants are present to 
 witness the display. We think families should have respect for 
 themselves — for each other, as well as for those who occasion- 
 ally partake with them. Such as make all their efforts in dress, 
 or furniture, or in the culinary department, to please the eye or 
 to secure the applause of strangers and doubtful friends, be- 
 come miserably paid for their toils. They live for others, and 
 not for themselves. They toil for others, and not for themselves. 
 And this they do, not on the principle of Christian charity, but 
 for a breath of popular favor, as empty as the wind. A very 
 large portion of family expenditures, particularly in what is 
 called fashionable life, is made wholly on this principle, for 
 
 A good cause is sometimea injured by calling in that which is weak. 
 
Levity is often leas foolish, and gravity less wise, than each of 
 
 •a 
 
 206 HOW TO LIVE PRETTILY IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 others to gaze fipon^ — perhaps to ridicule ; and not for the com- 
 fort or the benefit of those who make them. 
 
 Allusions have been made in other parts of this work to the 
 article of clothing appropriate in the country ; but it may not 
 be amiss to refer to it here, as one of the main features of liv- 
 ing prettily. .To dress neatly at all tiroes, and yet so as to occa- 
 sion no pecuniary outlay incompatible with the ordinary means 
 in rur^l life, requires good taste and good management of a high 
 grade, especially in the female head of the family. The mother 
 who can clothe her children, as well as herself, in a style of 
 comeliness — ^always in a condition to be seen by strangers with- 
 out mortification, and without an expenditure to embarrass her 
 husband, deserves of him and of others high commendation. 
 This is one of the most valuable accomplishments of the house- 
 wife ; and nothing in a greater degree contributes to the end 
 made the subject of the present chapter. Where we see a 
 family of children decently clad, clean, tidy, and of good breed- 
 ing, especially in the more humble walks of life, we impromptu 
 exclaim, they must have an excellent mother ! The country 
 district school, with its forty or fifty little boys and girls, attired 
 in the manner described, furnishes one of the best specimens of 
 the healthful simplicity and the good domestic economy in rural 
 locations. Here the farmer's wife may gather laurels of unfading 
 beauty and verdure ; in comparison of which the jewels and the 
 costly attire of the fashionable lady in the ball-room are con- 
 temptible and worthless. And, indeed, what are the fashiona- 
 ble accomplishments of the lady of rank — her music, her draw- 
 ing, and her flippancy in French, to the ability of the farmer's 
 wife to rear up sons that will be eminent statesmen and divines, 
 and daughters that will hold the highest position in society ? 
 
 While the farmer's wife, is doing thus much toward living 
 prettily, we have a few things to add for the farmer himself to 
 do, in this good work. Who is to see that the Sunday wagon, 
 which takes the family to church, and now and then appears on 
 a holyday, is free from mud and dust, and has been duly hon- 
 ored with a coat of varnish ? The farmer himself, or his sons, 
 if he have them of sufficient age. Who is to see that the court- 
 yard and garden fence is in good repair, and made white with 
 paint ? Not the farmer's wife, but the farmer himself, or some 
 one under his direction ! Who is to see that the family man- 
 sion and the various outbuildings have been properly regarded ; 
 the hinges and fastenings upon the doors all sound ; the paint 
 kept bright ; the windows free from broken glass ; and no loos- 
 ened weather-boards to become J&olism harps to the rats and 
 mice while the family is asleep ? It need not be said, that this 
 
 We know not how to estimate objects till we get them in possession. 
 
safer to be attacked by some men than to be protected by them. 
 
 p. 
 •g 
 
 3 
 
 s 
 
 CD 
 
 5 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 207 
 
 is the duty of the male portion of the household' ! Let not the 
 male reader be displeased, if one question more be propounded 
 on this subject. Lastly, then, whose duty is it to see that the 
 walks about the mansion be made clean and hard, and the 
 grounds contiguous to it be relieved from nuisances of every de- 
 scription ? Surely, this is not the work of the farmer's wife ! 
 Nor of his daughters. He should himself see that it is done ! 
 Hence, let it be said to the reader, male and female, do respec- 
 tively what is here set forth, and when the minister or the doc- 
 tor, or your relatives from the city, make you a visit, they will 
 say to you in sincerity and truth — How prettily you do .live! 
 
 View them near 
 At home, where all their worth and power is placed; 
 
 And there their hospitable fires bum clear, 
 And there the lowest farm-house hearth is graced 
 
 With manly hearts in piety sincere. 
 Faithful in love, in honor stern and chaste. 
 
 In friendship warm and true, in danger brave. 
 
 Beloved in life and sainted in the grave. 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 
 
 In other men we faults can spy, 
 
 And blame the mote tbat dims their eye ; 
 
 Sach little speck and blemish find. 
 
 To our own stronger errors blind. 
 
 Ere we remark another's sin, 
 
 Let our own conscience look within. 
 
 The liabilities to disaster from fire are too apparent to require 
 description. The consequences are too frightful, especially in 
 the country, if it happen at midnight in a cold winter, to re- 
 quire rhetorical embellishments to induce sober, calculating 
 persons, it might be supposed, to be furnished with all availa- 
 ble means to prevent their occurrehce, or when begun, to ob- 
 struct their progress. Such would be the conclusion of all 
 prudent men. Nevertheless, such is not the fact. There is a 
 vast deal of heedlessness — of recklessness — and of culpable 
 disregard to the subject, even in particulars of the most obvious 
 propriety. The majority of persons in the country seem to 
 make as little provision to prevent the occurrence of fires, or to 
 
 
 
 The historian is accustomed to consider that age worst in which he wrote. 
 
often makes those who begin by loving gold as a servant, finish 
 
 208 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 
 
 m 
 
 ■3 
 
 9) 
 
 ■a 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 p. 
 
 c 
 
 extinguish them when under way, aa though wood were incom- 
 bustible. This is doubtless owing to their being so rare. Did 
 they Ifappen more frequently, more vigilance would be exer- 
 cised. Even many who appear nervous and timid in relation to 
 calamities of the sort, are not always exempt from the accusa- 
 tions made. If a fire in the country has once been engendered, 
 at a distance from engines, and especially from neighbors, the 
 strong probability is, that the entire building will be consumed, 
 for there is nothing to prevent, save a hasty application of means 
 in the possession of the family on the ground. If it be a dwell- 
 ing-house, so rapid may be the progress of the flames, the in- 
 mates may barely have time to save their lives. How important, 
 then, that every family should be fully advised touching pre- 
 cautions against the occurrence of fires ; for being in constant 
 possession of all possible instrumentalities to extinguish them ; 
 for having aids at hand, on any sudden emergency, for escaping 
 from a burning building ; and for relief from ruinous loss, in 
 case one's property has been burnt up I 
 
 All preliminary means to prevent accidental combustion in a 
 dwelling-house or outbuildings, are simple in character, easily 
 devised, and attended with trifling labor or cost. In the con- 
 struction of chimneys, and the fixtures of stoves, it is apparent 
 that there should be no possible communication between any 
 combustible material and the fire, or any heated metal which is 
 a conductor of heat. To wit : the chimneys should be perfectly 
 tight, and of sufficient thickness to prevent the communication 
 of heat to adjacent objects. Stoves and stovie-pipes should not 
 only be tight, but so distant as not to cause ignition to any sur- 
 rounding matters, even if red hot. Stoves should also stand on 
 stone or brick hearths, or sheets of iron, zinc, or tin, so large as 
 to prevent danger from falling coals and embers, as well as from 
 the heat within. 
 
 All outfits foi domestic fires, or for fires required in other 
 business, should be thus made. Then there should be an every 
 day and every night regard ta the following particulars. The 
 neglect of these precautions has occasioned the loss of hundreds 
 of houses. Wood should never be left under a stove or in an 
 oven, especially over night, or when the family is to be absent 
 from it. When wood is used in an open fireplace, none should 
 be left standing upright. On leaving the fire at night, if any 
 remain, it should be taken apart, no two sticks or braads touching 
 each other, or standing erect, lest combustion should return, and 
 the falling coals roll upon the floor. 
 
 Whenever ashes are taken from a stove or fireplace, where 
 there has been a fire, they should be put into some incorabusti- 
 
 Mea will find thjxt the times do not change as much as they do themselves. 
 
eSeat of lightning, it is probable tlut he that is kiUud by it, hears no 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 209 
 
 ble vessel, tin, iron, or earthen. One made of sheet iron is best. 
 It should be kept exclusively for this purpose. And even this, 
 with such ashes, should be placed on the botlom of the cellar, 
 or on a brick platform, and not near anything that is combusti- 
 ble. If placed on a piece of board, the heat of the ashes may 
 cause it to take fire. Nor should it be placed in the open air, 
 lest the wind fan the embers and blow them to something where 
 ignition will follow. And even when emptied from such a ves- 
 sel, they should not be suffered to come in contact with wood or 
 anything combustible, lest some remaining live embers should 
 manifest themselves. 
 
 Ashes should never be put into barrels or wood boxes, even 
 after emptied from an iron or tin pail. Fire is sometimes kept 
 buried up in them for weeks. Besides, they aie subject, it is 
 said, to spontaneous combustion. It would be well that some 
 section of every cellar were enclosed with a thin brick wall, in 
 which the ashes of the whole year or season might be lodged ; 
 for instance, an arch under the chimneys. In want of this, let 
 them be deposited, day after day, in a corner of the cellar, but 
 away from wood and everything that may be consumed by fire. 
 
 A lamp or a candle should never be carried into the barn, 
 carriage-house, corn-house, garret, or any outbuilding, unless 
 well protected in a lantern ; not even by the owner himself, 
 any more than he would carry it into a powder-house. What 
 he does others will think they may do. 
 
 A lamp or a candle should never be carried into a closet con- 
 taining apparel, bed-clothes, table furniture, or any such inflam- 
 mable matters. Also, in going into an unoccupied bed-chamber, 
 it is better to leave the light at the door. A few years since a 
 block of ten houses were burnt, simply from a visit to such a 
 room, when a spaik, it is supposed, was blown from the lamp 
 upon the bed. What a destruction of property would have been 
 prevented by this precaution I 
 
 Nor should a lamp or candle ever be held near suspended 
 curtains, or a lady's dress. A breath of air may bring them in 
 contact with the flame. And one of the most dangerous prac- 
 tices is that of reading in bed by such a light. In addition to 
 the chance for dropping sparks on tlie bed furniture, there is to 
 be added the chance of the individual dropping to sleep. Acci- 
 dents of this sort are not unfrequent. No one should do it un- 
 der any pretence. 
 
 Furthermore, chimneys should be kept free from soot. 
 Where they cannot be swept, they should be burnt in rainy 
 weather. This may be done with a bundle of hay or straw 
 without hazard. 
 
 Old people are accustomed to extol the days of their youth. 
 
than the whole race of heroes and conquerors, who have drenched it 
 
 I 
 
 2r0 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 
 
 Every housekeeper should inculcate, by precept and example, 
 the utmost circumspection in everything from which this kind 
 of hazard may_ arise. The habit of doing it is most important, 
 for if a person does in one case he is more likely to do it in 
 others. There will be numerous exigencies not here alluded to, 
 where there will be occasion for bringing this habit into requisi- 
 tion. The good sense of each individual should provide for 
 them. 
 
 But, after precautions to prevent, fires will sometimes make 
 their appearance. Whether the result of unpardonable negli- 
 gence, or of circumstances against which no wisdom or prudence 
 could furnisii an antidote, every family should be provided with 
 all possible means for their extinction on any emergency, how- 
 ever sudden. The most important of these means is an ample 
 supply of water. To it there should be convenient access. 
 And it is not sufficient that there is a good well, abundantly 
 supplied with the article, and the customary fixtures for raising 
 it. A fire may be discovered at midnight, somewhere about a 
 house, when first beginning to blaze ; a few pails of water im- 
 mediately applied, might extinguish or subdue it ; whereas, if 
 there were the delay in its application unavoidable in going to 
 the well for it, connected with the current of air rushing in 
 when the door is opened, so much progress of the flame would 
 be made as to prevent its extinction. Contingencies of this 
 character may not be frequent, but they have had existence. 
 Most persons have heard of them. Thus, a fatal disaster might 
 have been prevented, if there had been at command a moderate 
 amount of wateT". The inference is that in every house there 
 should always be in readiness a reasonable amount of it. The 
 pails ordinarily appropriated to its use should never be left 
 empty when the family retires to rest. It would not be amiss 
 if the quantity were increased. No labor would be lost, for it 
 would subserve sundry domestic ends in the morning. 
 
 There are periods nearly every year, when theie is a defi- 
 ciency of water in many wells. It is very desirable, therefore, 
 not only for the purpose we are considering, but for the gene- 
 ral wants of water upon a farm, that there should be some re- 
 source independent of the well. Only a few farms, compara- 
 tively, have springs near enough to make up the deficiency. 
 How, then, can it be provided ? The subject is easy of solution. 
 On the buildings of a farm, varying according to their number 
 and dimensions, there might be collected in cisterns from |ive 
 hundred to one thousand hogsheads of rain water annually. At 
 this estimate, there would be- for ordinary purposes — for the 
 stock, the kitchen, and the garden — from one to three hogsheads 
 
 We ehoul.l not attempt to explain what are called mysteries in religion. 
 
punishes the bad with a recollection of the past, the sufiferings of 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 2U 
 
 
 per day, besides the advantages of an abundance in case of fires. 
 Besides, the depth of cisterns is so inconsiderable, that the 
 labor of raising it would not be half as much as raising it from 
 a well. Enough would be saved each year in this way alone 
 in labor, to defray the cost of building a -cistern of the more 
 common dimensions. With such an abundance of available 
 water about thB premises, the rates of insurance might be less 
 than where it did not exist ; and of corresponding value to the 
 proprietor, as giving liim this increased security against fire. 
 
 And second to nothing else in available instrumentalities for 
 subduing fires in the country is an ample supply of properly 
 constructed ladders. There should be for this purpose espe- 
 cially, at least one, firmly made, in length to rise two feet or 
 more above the eaves of the highest edifice ; and another equal 
 in length to the longest rafter, with hooks projecting over the 
 ridge of the roof for a support. With these two ladders, access 
 might be had, in a, few minutes, to any part of the roof of the 
 highest building on the premises. Suppose a fire in an incipi- 
 ent state should be'discovpred on the roof of a house, with such 
 ladders and a few pails of water, how easy to extinguish it ! 
 Suppose the fire kindled under the roof in the garret, now so 
 filled with smoke as to rend«r it unsafe to go there. These lad- 
 ders being applied as in the other case, a person with an axe to 
 make an opening over the fire, and then sending in upon it his 
 buckets of water, might soon subdue the struggling element. 
 Where engines are not at hand, these ladders would enable a 
 single person to accomplish what could not otherwise be accom- 
 plished. So important are they under such circumstances, that 
 insurance companies should require all the insured to keep them 
 constantly on hand, in good condition, in default of which the 
 policies should be vitiated. Nor should the supply be limited 
 to these. The more the better. They are necessary for other 
 purposes, especially in the fruit season. 
 
 Nothing is more hoi-rible than to be aroused from sleep in the 
 dead of night with portions of the house wrapped in flames, and 
 no way of escape but through a window. Yet such instances 
 happen; and individuals in upper rooms occasionally have thus 
 perished. It would be wise, if provision were always made in 
 advance for such frightful junctures. Various methods have 
 been devised to enable persons, at such times, to escape through 
 the windows from upper rooms. Most of these methods are 
 wanting in simplicity — are too expensive for general use ; or 
 they occupy more space for deposit than can be spared in bed- 
 chambers. If any one were present at the outside of the burn- 
 ing building with a ladder, there would be occasion very rarely 
 
 It>i3 almost as difficult to make a man unlearn his errors as his knowledge. 
 
but like all other stimuli, it produces indirect debility ; and those 
 
 212 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 
 
 for any other assistance. The relief here proposed is where 
 no one is present to furnish that aid. In the absence of all 
 other means, a sheet from the bed might speedily be torn into 
 strips of six or eight inches in width ; these tied together to 
 make a kind of rope — one end of it fastened to the bedstead or 
 other secure article, and the other end dropped to the ground 
 from the window, persons might descend upon it quite easily. 
 All this might be constructed in a few minutes. But a far bet- 
 ter device might be furnished ; the expense of it a mere trifle, 
 and occupying so little space as to be kept on hand permanently 
 with small inconvenience. This is a ladder — the sides of rope, 
 and the steps or rounds of wood. These rounds, of good white 
 oak or hickory, need not be larger than a man's thumb. For 
 a two-story house, six or eight of them would be ample ; for a 
 three-story house, double the number. The round at one end 
 should be so long as to extend by the frame of the window each 
 side. This on the inside, against the window-frame for a sup- 
 port, while the ladder were suspended from it to the ground, 
 persons might descend upon it with the utmost ease and expe- 
 dition. The cost of the rope would be less than a dollar ; and 
 when not wanted for use, could be rolled together in a small 
 compass to be carried about under the arm. 
 
 But if a man's house and other property are burnt up, how 
 is he to replace them ? Only a few possess the .means to do it 
 themselves without essential embarrassment. Mutual insurance 
 companies are excellent devices, comparatively of recent origin 
 in this country, at least, to prevent such embarrassment. The 
 principle is, that when a loss occurs, it falls alike on all the 
 members of the company to which the owner of the property 
 belonged. That is, if all the inhabitants of a town, a county, 
 or any prescribed district were members of it, when an individ- 
 ual's hou.se, or barn, or furniture, is consumed by fire, the loss 
 is to be made up by a general tax on all, the same as a court- 
 house or jail, when burnt, would be rebuilt at the expense of 
 the whole ; or even the same as public roads are supported, or 
 the town paupers are maintained. The principle of mutual 
 insurance companies is the same as this. But as towns and 
 counties do not, in their corporate capacities, assume the loss of 
 property by fire belonging to individuals, such as choose, asso- 
 ciate under legislative authority to do it themselves. This em- 
 bodies the whole scheme ; and a better one was never devised. 
 No persdn should neglect to avail himself of the security thus 
 afforded. And when such companies exist, if an individualffail 
 to protect himself, at a mere nominal cost, he deserves no sym- 
 pathy if cast penniless upon the world. Indeed, it is believed 
 
 Ignorance has no light, but error follows a false one. 
 
mined with all but mathematical accuracy. Oommerce flourishes 
 
 PROVISION AGAINST DANGER FROM FIRE. 213 
 
 
 4 
 
 .9 
 
 3 
 1 
 
 no one could be so stupid or heedless as to neglect the precau- 
 tion, if he understood the subject. 
 
 Let us suppose a case for illustration. We will take a town 
 of four hundred families, for instance, the town of Orange in 
 New Jersey. We will suppose that each of these four hundred 
 families has five thousand dollars in combustible property ; that 
 is, including house, barn, outbuildings, furniture, carriages, 
 farming utensils, horses, cattle, grain, and other provisions, all 
 liable to destruction from fire. Some, indeed, may not have 
 that amount, but others will have more, so that the aggregate 
 of combustible property will equal the amount of two millions 
 of dollars, which is equal to five thousand dollars for each of 
 these four hundred families. It is assumed as a hypothesis, 
 which will probably exceed the reality, that of this two millions 
 of dollars, one dollar in every two thousand will annually be 
 destroyed by accidental fires, thus making a yearly loss in the 
 town of Orange, of one thousand dollars. This, apportioned 
 upon the whole sum insured, will make each family liable to pay 
 two dollars and fifty cents annually for having the whole of his 
 five thousand dollars protected against loss from accidental fire. 
 If this process of illustration be correct, it will be seen that the 
 cost of protection would be but a mere trifle were insurance 
 universal in our country towns. 
 
 In manufacturing districts, or any others where risks are 
 extra-hazardous, the loss would indeed be greater. But in all 
 cases of risk found among agriculturists, it is believed the ag- 
 gregate loss will not exceed the sura named ; that is, one dol- 
 lar annually in every two thousand dollars. It is a duty, 
 therefore, which every housekeeper, especially, owes to him- 
 self and family, to avail himself of such security ; to become, 
 without delay, a party to such an institution; and, not only to 
 do this himself, but to induce others to do it; where they do 
 not understand the subject, to explain it to them ; where they 
 are ignorant of the existence of such complete protection, make 
 it known to them. One cannot rendei; others a more benevo- 
 lent service. It may save them from poverty and years of 
 increased toil and suffering. 
 
 The course of evil 
 Begins eo slowly, and from such slight source, 
 An infant's hand might stem the breach with (flay ; 
 But let the stream get deeper, and philosophy, 
 I Aye, and religion too, shall strive in vain 
 
 To turn the headlong cuiTent. 
 
 It is not true that vice is less guilty, because it may be free from grossness. 
 
science, is the maKk of a little mind ; but it requires a soul of 
 
 CiUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 
 
 Yoii have outrun your fottune ; 
 I blame you not, that you would be a beggar ; 
 Each to his taste I But I do charge you, sir. 
 That, being beggar'd, you should win false moneys 
 Out of the crucible call'd debt. 
 
 It is by no means proposed to recommend any radical theory 
 on the subject of debt and credit. In a mercantile commu- 
 nity, a cash system of trade cannot exclusively prevail. To do 
 a large business, the merchant must ordinarily make a portion 
 of his purchases on credit ; and it would be difficult for him to 
 exclude credit altogether in selling.' It has been so interwoven 
 with trade, that it might be impossible to banish it altogether, 
 were an attempt made, without involving evils greater than 
 those experienced from its toleration. But few m,en have cash 
 enough of their own, with the small profits now made, to be 
 able to sustain themselves, unless they can, at least in part, 
 operate with borrowed capital in some form or other. If the 
 merchant had cash sufficient to effect all his purchases with- 
 out credit, he might live, and perhaps better, without the per- 
 plexities of trade. Besides, without something of the credit 
 system, there would be far less opportunity than at present for 
 enterprising young men, destitute almost wholly of pecuniary 
 facilities, to have their chance for the acquisition of property. 
 The business would continue in the possession of such as now 
 have it. There would be a complete monopoly. 
 
 There is, nevertheless, an enormous evil to society at large 
 from the existing practice of doing business so extensively on 
 what is called borrowed capital. All the extravagance, or 
 nearly all of it, arises from this very system. Did it not exist, 
 who would live beyond his means ; that is, in reality at the ex- 
 pense of others ? If there were no credit — if all did business 
 with their own cash resources, we should not see the tens of 
 thousands living at an expense of two, three, or four thousand 
 dollars, when not worth a farthing, and perhaps absolute b^lc- 
 rupts. The ultimate failure of these persons is but a small por- 
 tion of the evil. This is soon remedied. The creditor loses his 
 
 If of frei^Luent occurrence, it is absurd to prefer rank or riches to talents. 
 
know not, till the event hath determined it, how the next billow 
 
 CAUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 215 
 
 money, and the debtor is broken down. But in their career of 
 prodigal expenditure for ostentatious display in houses, furni- 
 ture, dress, and equipage, the public taste is sadly vitiated ; 
 clerks, agents, and men ot fixed salary, are stimulated to in- 
 dulge themselves in it, and are thereby led to squander unlaw- 
 fully the property of their employers. If everything were to 
 be paid for when purchased, merchandise, as well as articles for 
 family use, those of limited means would dispense with the 
 latter, save what is absolutely needful, that their business capi- 
 tal might not be reduced. In this way would all quickly per- 
 ceive if living beyond their income. And no sooner were dis- 
 covery made, than a reform would be instituted. For few only 
 have, the recklessness or folly to persist in a course speedily ter- 
 minating in absolute ruin. 
 
 Perhaps it would be wise to reduce mercantile credits to two 
 classes. The first to embrace the young men who begin trade 
 without capital of their own. It is very common for a young 
 man to do business under the credit of an endorsement from his 
 father or some other friend, perhaps to an indefinite amount. 
 If small at first, it often becomes large. Under this system, it 
 is not known how much credit of his own the young man has ; 
 nor do the public themselves know whether he is doing a good 
 business or not, as the ultimate resort for liabilities is not to him, 
 but to his friend. Hence, too, he, always having ample means 
 at command, does not scrupulously balance the counter col- 
 umns of his own business, or confine himself and his family to 
 the prudent outlay for miscellaneous expenses, which the exact 
 position of his business would dictate. Living thus a few years, 
 as if doing a prosperous business, when, in reality, doing it at a 
 loss, or only a small profit, the result is easily imagined. There 
 is a ffiilure, and his friend is ruined by surprise, or greatly em- 
 barrassed. The better way is for the father or the friend to 
 make a direct loan or gift of five thousand dollars, or so, on the 
 condition that he do a cash business and notliing el.-^e, living 
 solely on the profits, or a portion of the profits of his business, 
 taking the balance of these profits, if there be any, annually to 
 pay back the loan. This will induce an ecouomical expenditure 
 for personal and family expenses, and will probably terminate 
 in ample pecuniary results, which rarely will happen, if busi- 
 ness is crippled continually by heavy drafts upon it, for pur- 
 poses not connected with it. If a young man cannot raise 
 himself up with such an advance of capital, and under such a 
 process of operation, it is not to be expected that he can do it 
 BSy other way. If five thousand dollars will not enable hira to 
 do it, fifty thousand would not. If his system of expenditure 
 
 The triumphs of truth are most glorious, chiefly because they are bloodless. 
 
plaud those learned men -who perform this service with 
 
 216 CAUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 
 
 absorb the former, it would in a little longer period absorb the 
 latter. 
 
 If our young men generally were to adopt principles of busi- 
 ness similar to what is here suggested, we should have no 
 revulsions. Everything would be sound and healthy. Indi- 
 vidual failures would be as i-are among merchants as among 
 farmers. All would have a competence, or what they would 
 consider competence. Frugality and economy would then 
 characterize the trading community, as much as pi'odigality and 
 reckless extravagance now do. We should not then see the 
 wives of young men who pay interest on every dollar of capital 
 they use, promenading public streets, or piously kneeling in 
 church, with a single article of dress the cost of which would 
 have purchased a nice little farm. 
 
 • The other class of mercantile credits to be tolerated, is where 
 a person has a note or a bond for cash, due to him at a future 
 specified time. If he is under the necessity of using the pro- 
 ceeds, he may go to a bank or to a Capitalist, and avail himself 
 of the facility it affoi'ds him. Of Course he loses upon it the 
 interest and discount equal to the supposed value of guaranty- 
 ing the responsibility of maker and endorser. If the profits of 
 this money put into trade are more than equal to the deduction 
 made on the debt due to him, very well. The operation may 
 prove a good one. But if these profits are not equal, then he 
 is a loser. Moreover, if the maker of the note or bond become 
 unable to pay it, so that the endorser has to refund the cash 
 received, the presumption is, the inconvenience to which he is 
 thereby subjected is more than an equivalent for the advanta- 
 ges derived from the temporary use of it. Hence it is better 
 for the holders of all such paper, if possible, to let it mature in 
 their own hands, thereby saving to themselves the interest and 
 discount, and at the same time avoiding all liability to resort to 
 extra effort to raise funds to meet the defalcation of the debtor. 
 It is known that the wisest and most competent class of mer- 
 chants ordinarily adopt the latter course. 
 
 But our chief concern in discussing the present subject is 
 not with merchants. It 1-3 with another description of persons. 
 What is said above is rather incidental, in discussing the princi- 
 ple involved, than in the application of it to the various descrip- 
 tions of trade in the community. With farmers and mechanics 
 credit should be avoided, as if it were poison or a ravenous 
 beast. That is, they should avoid it in buying ; if they are 
 able to give credit in selling, it is no one's business but the' 
 own. Possibly it may be allowable, in purchasing a farm, thi 
 a portion of the purchase-money be permitted to remain. Here 
 
 The enthusiast has been compared to a man walking in the fog. 
 
flower does this, and so does a field of clover. The facts. 
 
 CAUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 217 
 
 
 so many peculiar circumstances may exist, that no general rules 
 can be given to meet every exigency. Each individual, under- 
 standing the general principles that should regulate credit, must 
 judge of these circumstances for himself. One thing is cer- 
 tain, that no subject will probably present itself, about which 
 so much delusion will be experienced, as in prospective means 
 for paying debts. Fifty times an individual will find himself 
 mistaken in regard to the availability of such estimated means 
 where a single exception is realized. Even if only a small por- 
 tion of the farm is to be paid out of its profits, what has been 
 already paid is not very unfrequently sacrificed in making out 
 the balance. It will usually be found that all the income of the 
 farm will be wanted in making general improvements, and in the 
 support of the family, so that the period will be remote that 
 from this source funds can be received to cancel the debt for the 
 remaining purchase-money, unless inconvenient privations and 
 sacrifices are submitted to. Hence, as remarked, the experi- 
 ment is by no means unfrequently disastrous. 
 
 We will suppose another juncture even more clear than the 
 preceding, where the farmer seems compelled to depart from 
 the general rule, not to incur debt. It may be that his horse 
 or his ox is lost, and must be replaced without delay, or else 
 the business of the farm will be materially interrupted. He 
 has no cash at command, and must therefore make the pur- 
 chase on credit, or not at all. This is an extreme case, and no 
 way is presented for avoiding the unwelcome alternative. Other 
 cases nearly analogous may occasionally arise requiring a simi- 
 lar decision. The utmost caution should be exercised, to make 
 them few and far between. Again, a farmer may come into 
 possession of a farm in the spring of the year, and without 
 manure — an article which he must ordinarily have, or else 
 much of his labor will be valueless. He has no surplus cash 
 means, and must therefore obtain it on credit, or not have it. 
 This is one of the cases about which no doubt can arise. True, 
 fifty or a hundred persons would be likely to run into debt for 
 something to be eaten, or drunk, or worn, or furniture, where 
 one would do it for manure to be used on the farm. Still, this 
 one would act like a wise man, and they would act regardless 
 of consequences. This one contracts a debt for an article that 
 will enrich the land doubly the amount of its cost, and will 
 make the land produce enough to pay for it twice over beyond 
 what it would have produced without the application of ma- 
 nAe. It is similar to bank stock on which good dividends are 
 nJaSe, and still remains to fertilize the soil in coming years. It 
 is an abiding reality — more than an equivalent for the money to 
 
 Power, like the diamond, dazzles the beholder, and also the wearer. 
 
here below like the Bwallow, seeking from day to day the 
 
 218 CAUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 be paid for it. Not so is it in regard to the articles for which 
 the fifty or hundred persons contracted a debt. Those articles 
 are mostly consumed forthwith, and no trace of them remains 
 behind. If you look for them, they are not to be found. And 
 instead of referring to them as furnishing the means with which 
 to liquidate the debt, you have to seek them elsewhere. Not 
 unlike these instances of evil to be tolerated in the farmer, is 
 that of purchasing stock or tools for the mechanic. Without 
 stock and tools he could not work ; and by adding his labor to 
 the stock, it receives an increased value. 
 
 And if a farmer, or a mechanic, or any other person, has 
 money at interest to be paid at periodical seasons — or stocks 
 from which dividends are to be received — or rents of real or 
 personal estate in expectation — he may very properly, if there 
 is occasion, anticipate the whole or any part thereof, as he finds 
 it convenient. Nevertheless, he had better avoid this if he can, 
 for there is far less satisfaction in using it in paying a debt than 
 in receiving a valuable consideration at the time he parts with it. 
 
 As a general thing, for a farmer to purchase clothes or pro- 
 visions on credit, in anticipation of future crops, is a hazardous 
 experiment. It is, in reality, a mortgage on future labor, which 
 reduces the ,person who does it to a species of slavery, in itself 
 the most degrading of all conditions. If a person cannot aviod 
 it, he must submit to the degradation as well as he can. He 
 had better do this than starve, or allow himself to become in- 
 capacitated for labor for the want of food and raiment. How- 
 ever, avoid it if possible ; and when unavoidable, get rid of it 
 without unnecessary delay. Besides, this is a kind of mortgage 
 on Providence, as well as on our own labor, a thing scarcely 
 within the hmit of individual rights, approximating an irrev- 
 erent assumption of the Divine goodness. On the blessing of 
 Heaven we are dependent for the increase of the earth. We 
 plant, and we sow ; but it is God who crowns our labor with 
 success. We are not certain that his blessing will attend our 
 labors. Our crops may be blasted or otherwise destroyed, be- 
 fore the season of harvest. Possibly no more will be produced 
 than is wanted for the owner. Or at the time when the pro- 
 ceeds are wanted, the prices will be ruinously low ; whereas, if 
 kept a few months, or till another year, a good price might be 
 had. This is a thing of no unfrequent occurrence. And he 
 may be sick, so that the hired labor to be used in substitution 
 of his own may absorb all the surplus at least. 
 
 Should it be inquired what the comparatively poor man, crj^ 
 pled for the want of means, is to do, the adiiiission is made th™ 
 an answer is not easily given. It is difiScult to give advice that 
 
 Oar adversity will excite temptation in ourselves, our prosperity io others. 
 
and the awful silence wliioh prevails, drive away the world 
 
 CAUTION AGAINST CONTRACTING DEBTS. 219 
 
 ■a 
 
 "a 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 may seem to meet his case, although much more difficult to 
 practice than to advise. If a man is to be uncomfortably poor, 
 it is no small alleviation to look forward to the period when 
 the pressure will be reduced. This would enable him to bear 
 with cheerfulness, for a limited season, even an increased pres- 
 sure. Let him, therefore, manfully submit to this increased de- 
 privation, rather than to contract debt. Do this till he can get 
 one year's produce ahead, or have on hand the cash he re- 
 ceived for it. When this is realized, a powerful charm will 
 come over him at once. He wjll feel like a new man. His 
 head will be up. His step will be vigorous. His spirit will be 
 endowed with new energy. Having money in pocket, he pur- 
 chases what he wants at the lowest prices. Instead of being 
 under obligation to the vender for credit, his custom is now 
 solicited by all who have articles which he needs. So it is, 
 likewise, with the mechanic. And, this point reached, the 
 next is attended with far less difficulty, and so of all succeeding 
 steps — each one is easier than the preceding. A competency 
 is speedily followed by a surplus of means ; and the annual 
 accumulation of this suiplus, before one is aware of it, amounts 
 to independence, if not to affluence. 
 
 Closely allied to the above is the importance of settling ac- 
 counts, copied from a newspaper. The closing of the old, and 
 the opening of the new year, is not only a period suitable to 
 moral reflection and to the interchange of tokens of friendship 
 and remembrance, but it is also a favorable time to ascertain, in 
 a business point of view, how we " stand with the world." 
 " Long credits make short fi-iendships," says the adage, and 
 there is much truth in it. Accounts of long standing become 
 so involved in forgetfulness, that often they cannot be adjusted 
 to the satisfaction of either party, and hence hard feelings arise, 
 and perhaps law-suits. The transactions of a year can gen- 
 erally be remembered pretty well, but memory should not be 
 trusted a longer period. 
 
 Frequent settlements promote economy. Many a man has 
 become a bankrupt, and his business prospects been marred, if 
 not ruined for life, not from any known habits of extravagance, 
 but from an ignorance of his receipts and expenditures. It is 
 an easy thing to buy on credit ; and unless we keep an accurate 
 memoranda of every purchase, larger accounts than we are 
 aware of will insensibly be made. While thus deceived as to 
 the amount of our liabilities, we very naturally incur many ex- 
 penses, which we easily might and should avoid, were we better 
 informed as to the amount. 
 
 Nothing, certainly, is lost, by knowing the condition of our 
 
 Avarice is a passion full of paradox, a madness full of method. 
 
Been, and brdugbt into contact in the business of life, ■without 
 
 220 AGRICULTURE FAVORABLK TO 
 
 pecuniary affairs. It is better to see the worst side of them, 
 than to quiet ourselves with the delusive hope that they are not 
 so bad as they really are. Procrastination will not lessen the 
 amount of our indebtedness, nor, probably, facilitate its liquida- 
 tion. On the contrary, debts generally increase by the lapse of 
 time, while the means of their payment not unfrequently di- 
 minishes. It is better, therefore, to be informed of our indebt- 
 edness, even if the means be not at hand to discharge it ; for 
 the first step toward overcoming an obstacle is to know the 
 extent of it. 
 
 It is therefore the dictate of prudence and wisdom to settle 
 all accounts at least once a year, and so far as possible, the bal- 
 ances due should be paid. If every man, however small his 
 business, would do this to the extent of his ability, there would 
 be fewer losses by bad debts, less hard feeling in the inter- 
 course of trade, and more general prosperity among all classes 
 of people. 
 
 The ghost of many a veteran bill 
 Shall hover round his slumbers. 
 
 AGRICULTURE FAVORABLE TO 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. 
 
 There ia a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, 
 No cheniic art can counterfeit ; 
 It makes men rich in greatest poverty, 
 Makes water wine, turns wooded cups to gold, 
 The homely -whistle to sweet music's strain ; 
 Seldom it comes, to few from Heaven sent. 
 That much is little — all in naught — Content. 
 
 In civilized life, the pleasures of " Sweet Home" are ranked 
 with our most refined enjoyments. They have been delineated 
 in the richest elegance of prose ; they have been consecrated in 
 the sweetest strains of poetry ; and music has given to them all 
 the charms of her witchery. The attachment which conducesil 
 to these pleasures is at the foundation of what is called patri- 
 otism and all well-ordered society, whether in the family or in 
 
 -a 
 
 01). 
 
 The miser lives poor to die rich, and is only the turnkey of his wealth. 
 
that its influence begins at the cradle, and only ends in the 
 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. 221 
 
 I 
 
 the commonwealtli. This attachment is interwoven witli all 
 our ideas of moral beauty. It awakens our sympathy and 
 commands our homage wherever we behold it. If our aspira- 
 tions and our hopes transport us to the contemplation of the 
 heavenly world, it is to behold in their full perfection the sub- 
 lime essence of these pleasures. Heaven is viewed as our final 
 home ; its bliss supreme, and never to be alienated ! 
 
 Moreover, so important is this principle of attachment to 
 home, that we involuntarily respect and prize it, even in the 
 brute creation. When our herds at the close of each day, of 
 their own accord, return from their wanderings for sustenance, 
 to sleep in the yards and under the inspection of their owner, 
 do-we manifest no signs of gratification ? When the mute cows, 
 with distended udders, in the regularity of the setting sun and 
 of the approach of evening twilight, cast their beseeching looks 
 on the waiting dairy-maid to come and receive their rich treas- 
 ures, is there in the human bosom no emotion of kindred 
 instinct ? And even when the barn-yard fowls, holding, it is 
 always supposed, a very low grade of intelligence, repair with 
 measured accuracy to their accustomed resting-places, as if to 
 tell their owner that they are all alive and well, or to pass the 
 night under his protection, is there no lesson conveyed to our- 
 selves touching one 'source, at least, of human enjoyment ? 
 
 Supposing, in the cases to -which allusion is here made, there 
 were none of this local attachment and instinct, how much 
 labor should we have in their supervision, of which we are now 
 relieved ; and how much would their value, in our estimation, 
 be diminished ? The case is too apparent for argument. We 
 only need to be reminded of it, in order to appreciate its mag- 
 nitude. Nor simply are we relieved from labor and solicitude 
 on account of these aptitudes in the brute orders of animal 
 life ; we feel something analogous to them in our own social 
 tendencies. True, they have no written language in which to 
 commune with us ; but, in some important particulars, they 
 exercise a language of signs, by no means difficult of being com- 
 prehended. This steady attachment to their home is one of 
 them. 
 
 Now if such be one of the permanent or fundamental elements 
 in mental philosophy, how desirable that, by all possible means, 
 it be made subservient to the promotion of human bliss ! The 
 Deity evidently implanted it in the bosom of his creatures, that 
 they might always revel on its living energies, whether during 
 'the midnight hours, in the quiet family at the mountain's base ; 
 in the glowing fellowship at the social board ; in the responsive 
 worship of the full temple ; and, at last, among those countless 
 
 There are three kinds of power — wealth,. strength, and talent. 
 
which are in themselves so fall of pleasure and bappiaess 
 
 222 AGRICULTURE FAVORABLE TO 
 
 multitudes that will through eternity shout their Maker's praise. 
 What if the human soul were destitute of these sympathetic 
 tendencies ? What if the father had no kind regard for the 
 mother of his children ? What if neither of them felt any im- 
 pulsive yearnings for the fruit of their own bodies ? What if 
 the latter were as heartless as the stones beneath their feet 
 toward those from whom they derived their existence ? What 
 if, in the broad expanse of human life, there were an entire desti- 
 tution of love and mental communion ; as if, on the long cata- 
 logue of animated intelligences, each one were registered a 
 lonely unit, bound in affection to no one else ; receiving succor 
 from no one else ; and, constructively at variance with all beside, 
 in the whole universe ? Under such circumstances existence 
 would be a curse. 
 
 This philosophical or historic fact, whichever we may call it, 
 is fairly presented to our consideration. Where, then, let it be 
 asked, does this element of human joy become most expansive ? 
 Where does it exert its most vigorous energies ? Under what 
 circumstances do we most highly prize it ? Are there any local 
 physical influences that become auxiliary to its dominion ; or is 
 it depending solely on ethereal, invisible abstractions, for the 
 accomplishment of its legitimate capabilities ? We believe the 
 former to be the reality, persuaded, also, that none but senti- 
 mental lunatics can adopt the latter hypothesis. 
 
 Again, if the consummation of these inherent social capabili- 
 ties is attained under external local influences, let it be asked 
 also, where do they exist ; where do they exert this overwhelm- 
 ing power ? Is it in migratory, or stationary life ? Is it on the 
 barren sands of Arabia, under the canvas tent, with her cease- 
 less wanderers ; or is it in the local habitation of civilized life ? 
 In which of these two situations do the social affections become 
 most controlling ; in which do they become most fruitful in do- 
 mestic bliss ; around which do they raise up the most effectual 
 ramparts for protection against vice and physical evil ? Is it 
 possible that those children of wild nature, without a home to be 
 cherished and protected ; without its endearments to refine and 
 strengthen the ties of family consanguinity, can attain that meas- 
 ure of these social emanations that are enjoyed under a different 
 dispensation ? When did ever the members of a family jointly 
 or separately defend their own fireside and household treasures 
 against the lawless attacks of violence, without a glow of ardor 
 and determination that sent terror and death into the midst of 
 their assailants? And when their triumph was complete, wiih 
 what expressive emotion did they greet and embrace each other ! 
 With what increased value did they look on every object saved 
 
 Brutus, in the day of trial, found honor only a name and a shadow. 
 
effects of this e.irthijuake were felt over the greater part of 
 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. 223 
 
 from desolation ! With what firm resolution did they resolve, 
 in all coming time, never to see it desecrated ! 
 
 Let the coldest formalists be asked, if there is no hallowed 
 joy in this ? Do not the incidents connected with it become 
 household tales for all subsequent life ? And is there not a 
 moral panoply woven out of them for their mutual protection 
 against temptations to sin inferior to no human influence, and 
 next in its energies to those of the Divine Spirit ? But, has the 
 wandering Arab aught like this ? Has the homeless wanderer of 
 the wilderness such instrumentalities for the endearment of a social 
 existence ? Far from it ! His soul is seemingly as destitute of 
 rational bliss, as the sands over which he roams are of vegetable 
 life. Indeed, it is to be apprehended that his bosom never 
 swells with that warm emotion as does that of the Christian 
 tenant of the well-ordered mansion ; and that the table of his 
 mind, however capable of receiving refined impressions, remains 
 an unmeaning, unlettered blank. 
 
 However, these suggestions are designed only as a prelimi- 
 nary to the one we have immediately in view. Broad as the 
 gulf is usually esteemed, between barbaric and civilized life, 
 touching our present purpose, it does not follow that there is a 
 complete uniformity of condition respecting it in what is termed 
 civilized life. In the latter there may be a countless number of 
 shades of variance, sometimes running into each other in grada- 
 tions so trivial, that like the different colors on the canvas, it is 
 far from being easy to tell where one begins and another ter- 
 minates. The lowest grades of civilized life approximate very 
 near to the better conditions of barbaric life. For instance, 
 taking the poorest classes of a city population, crowded into 
 garrets and cellars, abiding in one place one week, and in an- 
 other the next week, and so on through the entire year. Can 
 there be any local attachments to such an existence ? If these 
 abodes were comfortable, the occupants do not live in them long 
 enough to form an attachment. And there are no vestiges of 
 comfort about them ; not even the pure air of heaven or the 
 light of the sun, intended for all God's creatures, the poor as 
 well as the rich ; the vile as well as the pure. That class of 
 human habitations in the city is far inferior to the stalls of cattle 
 on a good farm ; and the tenants, in reality, if not apparently, 
 less favored than the savages of wild nature. From these filthy 
 and wretched receptacles of human life, there is an ascending 
 series, almost infinite in kind, till we reach the gorgeous mansion 
 of the rich. Here may indeed be splendor, and magnificence, 
 and opulence, to dazzle the eye and stagnate the more active 
 functions of animal nature. Here, it is admitted, living year 
 
 Honor iu UDstahle and most capricious in bestowing rewards. 
 
diameter of the sun ; and, if so, its cubical contents will be 
 
 m 
 
 224 AGRICULTURE FAVORABLE TO 
 
 3 
 
 .3 
 
 after year, the occupants ought to be supposed in the posses- 
 sion of those family endearments we are contemplating. Cases 
 hke these, however, bear numerically so small a proportion to 
 the whole mass of civilized life, they scarcely deserve considera- 
 tion, save as exceptions to general apportionments. 
 
 It may be assumed, as a hypothesis of undoubted reality, 
 that, all other circumstances being equal, local attachments are 
 in proportion to their duration. Let this rule be applied. A 
 family living in a house a year becomes attached to it more than 
 living in it a month ; living in it five years more than living in it 
 a single year ; and for life proportionably more than five years. 
 And especially if the same place is tenanted by successive gen- 
 erations of the same family, how powerfully developed becomes 
 the tendency of our nature, of which we are now speaking ! If 
 there is anything in this world that rationally binds one's affec- 
 tions to it ; if there is anything that imparts a philosophical 
 dignity to life, it is living for successive years, or through life, 
 in competence and without solicitude, sharing with the same 
 dear family circle the mansion of a past generation. What 
 varied associations cluster around the fireside and the household 
 altar! The hours of morning twilight, the pensive and the 
 mellowed shades of evening, and no less the dark watches of 
 midnight, are alike flooded with soothing recollections. 
 
 In the country, upon the tidy and well-cultivated farm, such 
 associations and such recollections convert the whole of sur- 
 rounding nature into a fairy scene, on which the imagination 
 never becomes wearied. If the starry and moonlight heavens 
 anywhere move the human sensibilities with a delightful emo- 
 tion, it is here ! If a landscape of hill, and dale, and waving 
 shadow, anywhere captivate the eye, it is here ! If the murmur- 
 ing rill, and the falling cascade, and the distant echo of some 
 disturber of midnight silence, anywhere send a thrilling pathos 
 to the soul, it is here ! Here, the children were born ! Here, 
 amidst the pure atmosphere, they are nurtured in body and 
 mind ! Here, in God's first temple, they are taught to lisp his 
 praise ! Here, away from the loathings of vice, they receive 
 the elements of useful knowledge ! Here, in rustic simplicity, 
 their manners are formed ! Here, always at home, what can 
 diminish the vigor of their natural affections ! 
 
 It is difHcult to imagine what there is in the city analogous to 
 all this, to operate on the social affections. Persons of sufficient 
 means may and do occupy good houses — sometimes, it may be, 
 princely mansions — provided with expensive furniture ; but is 
 there anything in such establishments to produce this strong 
 local attachment ? It appears to us that such establishments 
 
 Great minds rise to view in times of general calamity arid confusion. 
 
/ '7 
 
 
 
ttat each of these euns has a hundred worlds oonnectea with it, ' ^ 
 
 LOCAL ATTAbuMENTS. 225 
 
 jroduce about the same effect on the mind of the oconpants, so 
 "ar as our present subject is involved, asithe gilded scenery of 
 the nlayHbyse. A sensation of delight is fel t at the moment; 
 but^ij;h the occasion it is all forgptten. TOw can it be other- 
 wise % They hq,ve no pei'manent interests there. T^y can feel 
 no pflssiJplfrMenWy with them. They live in one house one year ; 
 lii another jpne the next year ; and so on for the whole life ; 
 leavitig eaoaone, in turn, -with as Uttle thought or regret as the^^ 
 woidd step out of the railroad car in which4.hey had sojourned^ 
 a few niiles.' Their furniture also, instead of being preserved 
 for a lifetime, and cherished with affection, as in the country, is 
 cast away, and new substituted in its place with the unconcern 
 of casting away a pair of old shoes. In going from house to 
 house, they go from street to street in the same unconcerned 
 manner. 
 
 Now is it possible that in such a whirl and change, in such 
 a perpetual trSisition from place to place, there can be any 
 local sympathies ? And if the sympathies do not arise, their 
 intended influence is not felt. Hence, under such circumstan- 
 ces, these auxiliary agencies in producing the delights and the 
 moral influences of home are lost. In like manner, all similar 
 agencies for kindred purposes may be repudiated or neglected, 
 and we be left to the unassisted impukes of our nature, like 
 the primitive inhabitants of our land. Others may ridicule all 
 this, as old-fashioned and nonsensical ; but we trust the day 
 will never come when we shall voluntarily neglect to gather 
 flowers and fragrance from the retrospect of life. 
 
 It is not, indeed, our lot, as it is the lot of some favored ones, 
 to connect a family chronology for a lifetime with the same local 
 scenery. Our lot has been one of vicissitude ; but we would 
 go a day's journey with railroad speed, for the pleasure of re- 
 tracing the woodland paths of our childhood, and to survey 
 anew the spot where stood the cabin in which we were bSrn. 
 Save that cabin, all around is a perfect daguerreotype of those 
 early days ! Here the sacrilegious hand of modern improve; 
 ment has committed no depredation ! The hills and the val- 
 leys remain as they were ! The forest trees still spread out 
 their long branches and thick foliage for the comfort of man 
 and beast ! Close by stands Agonocl* — a cragged and pre- 
 cipitous spur of Saddleback — scowling and frowning as of old ; 
 his equanimity, to appearance, not. having been disturbed since 
 the time of Noah's flood. To help form a landscape of sur- 
 passing beauty and magnificence, his granite kyiSred, Kearsarge 
 and Mount Washington, of more wide-spread fame, at greater, 
 distances, cast their towering shadovrs on the blue sky. At 
 
 He that sympathizes with others, enjoys most happiness himself. 
 
 ^ * y 
 
 15 
 
 2- 
 
 I'll 
 
minute tubes, each of -which has a round bulbous root, by ^vhich 
 
 ■3% 
 B 
 
 226 AGRICULTURE FAVORABLE TO 
 
 his feet is spread out dear Suncook, mild and placid, like a 
 sleeping infant. On its shores we were wont to bathe and fish ; 
 and here we would again gather pebbles, casting one by one 
 upon its silvery bosom, causing rimple after rimpTe, not unlike 
 the pulsations of the virgin queen whose name it bears l", Sad- 
 ness would indeed rise up before us ; for the grave-yard could 
 alone tell us of the human forms with which we were accus- 
 tomed to commune ! It would be good to resiart thither ; for, 
 in that silent spot, hopes of heaven would kindle, and of friend- 
 ships there to be renewed and made perfect ! Who could 
 count the thoughts that in one short hour would there flit across 
 the mind ; or what painter could delineate the images that 
 would, as it were, rise from the ground, and dance before the 
 mental eye ? What sympathetic being can say it would not be 
 good, there to bring up such reminiscences of a long track of 
 years, all but blotted from human recollection, and to re-embody 
 visions, reaching into the unseen future, in that undying world, 
 where the pure in heart can alone enter ? Can those born in 
 the growing city, after the lapse of half a century, thus gather 
 food for the soul ; thus retaste the sweets of childhood ; thus 
 feel anew the buoyancy of youth ; and thus be assisted in their 
 aspirations after the land, not to be warmed and cheeted by the 
 light and the heat of the material sun ; being overshadowed by 
 the glory of the Ancient of Days ; the land, whose waters will 
 be the rivers of salvation, and whose bread will be the unfailing 
 essence of immortal existence and plenitude ! 
 
 If there is anything in this world, as once remarked, impor- 
 tant for our happiness, virtue, and respectability, it is a good 
 home, and a disposition to appreciate it. That agriculture is 
 one leading instrumentality for the promotion' of each, it might 
 be supposed no one can gainsay. Without such a home, or ' 
 without a disposition to appreciate it, our virtue and our respec- 
 tability, as well as our happiness, are in jeopardy. It is there- 
 fore of the very first importance, that all composing a family 
 should do all in their power to make their home to themselves, 
 collectively and individually, the most lovely place on earth. 
 The interests of the househdld are a species of joint stock ; all 
 having rights therein ; and no individual interest is to be main- 
 tained to the neglect or' detriment of the other interests. Each 
 person composing it, by ponstruction at least, yields a portion 
 of individual or personal rights or preferences, for the benefit 
 of the whole, as a family ; the same as in the commonwealth, 
 where certain rights are merged in the congregated mass, for a 
 ►more secure preservation than any one could afford them. 
 
 Let these general assumptions be applied to the order in do- 
 
 The whole world ie turned upside down once in twenty-four hours. 
 
pKrsone were guillotined under the government of the National 
 
 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. 
 
 227 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 mestio economy. Perhaps it will be well to take a family in 
 the country for the better illustration of our views. It may 
 be there is a commodious mansion amply furnished with pro- 
 visions and all customary requisites for good living, save those 
 of a social character. But in this there is a sad deficiency. On 
 the one side, we will suppose the male head first turns politician, 
 or at once becomes intemperate, and hence neglects his busi- 
 ness, and disgusting his children with their home, drives them 
 from it to similar habits of low life and ruin. Whereas, if he 
 had remained at home, rendered himself agreeable to his fam- 
 ily, and attended to his business, his children would have beea 
 saved from ruin, and raised to respectable stations in society, 
 and above all, his wife would have been kept from an early 
 grave, to bless him and them with her prayers and kindnesses to 
 the end of life. 
 
 What an awful responsibility is assumed by th* man who 
 thus puts in peril the respectability and the happiness of the 
 little community of which he is the head, for which he is to 
 provide, and which he is bound, by the laws of honor, of nat- 
 ural affection, of the country, and of God, to defend and pro- 
 tect! The man who is recreant to such obligations, seems 
 destitute not only of the common sympathies of our common 
 nature, but yields himself to instincts and impulses that would 
 disgrace, or perhaps degrade a beast. What should we think 
 of the civil rulei- who is thus unfaithful to his duty ? What 
 should we think of the military or naval commander who thus 
 sacrificed the interests of his country ? The vocabulary of 
 words is not competent to utter our feelings in regard to such 
 breaches of fidelity ; and much less of the man who converts 
 his own house into a kind of pandemonium, and, as it were, 
 murders the vrife of his bosom, and the fruit of his own loins ! 
 
 On the other side, let us now suppose the female head of the 
 family, instead of rendering the mansion quiet and agreeable to 
 all its members, and herself in particular agreeable to her hus- 
 band as he returns from his labors, fails not, by her morose and 
 ill-tempeied manners, to render home so unpleasant to him that 
 he goes from it, seeks more agreeable society elsewhere, and at 
 last thereby becomes a victim of intemperance. Thus, too, her 
 sons are driven away and ruined. Here we come to the same 
 result as in the other case. A family is d^troyed for the want 
 of a pleasant home — for the want of an asylum, amid the sea- 
 sons of labor, in which to repose their wearied limbs, and in 
 which the social attributes of their nature may meet with kin- 
 dred sympathies. The result is the same as before supposed : 
 the desolation of the mansion ; the poverty and disgrace of its 
 
 We should forgive freely those who injure us, if we do not forget. 
 
landers an opinion preyailed, that if a house took fire while 
 
 a 
 
 ■s 
 
 p. 
 .5P 
 
 1% 
 
 228 AGRICULTURAL LOCAL ATTACHMENTS, 
 
 inmates ; but what is even more unnatural and abhorrent to our 
 feelings, the individual who was placed there as a household 
 divinity to preside over its destinies ; to win and lead, by her 
 smiles, in the paths of wisdom, virtue, and domestic bliss, be- 
 came the author of all this wretchedness ! To her the whole 
 of it may be traced. On her, primarily, the responsibility of it 
 must rest ; and if she have a conscience, in all coming time, if not 
 through the unmeasurable annals of eternity, the recollection 
 of it must be to her like the gnawing of an undying worm, and 
 the agony of an unquenchable fire. 
 
 The secret of attachment to home is of easy solution. There 
 is no mystery in it. There is nothing but plain common sense 
 about it. If home is furnished with the means for rendering 
 it happy, all of course will be attached to it, unless the taste of 
 some one is vitiated and depraved. To wit, if the female head 
 of the family loves the society of her husband and children 
 better than any other society she can find ; and if she love the 
 duties of a housewife as she ought to love them, rarely indeed 
 will she fail, on their return from labor, to greet them with her 
 smiles, and to provide for their wants. And if they desire that 
 she should thus contribute to the well-being of the family, let 
 them be wanting in no effort to inspire her with a mind for it. 
 She is in constant need of their soothing assiduities, and of their 
 unwearied kindness. The routine of domestic labor is by no 
 means exempt from disappointment and vexation. Palliatives 
 must be furnished, lest the temper be soured under their influ- 
 ence. It is their duty to furnish them. And, above all, if 
 father and mother desire that their children love home better 
 than any other place, let them strive to make it more agreeable 
 than any other ; if it can be done, by intellectual occupations ; 
 by rational amusements; and especially, by the influence of 
 kind social regard. When all th'^pembers of a family think 
 less of their own individual coq|ffft, convenience, and personal 
 preferences, than they do of the comfort, convenience, and 
 preferences of the others, the family will be, at least in a social 
 view, a truly happy one. 
 
 O 1 how canst thou renounce the boundless store 
 Of charms which nature to her votary yields ! 
 
 The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 
 The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; 
 
 All that thg genial ray of morning gilds, 
 And all that echoes to the song of even. 
 
 All tlfat the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, 
 Andl all the dread magnificence of heaven, 
 ! how canst thou renounce and hope to be forgiven ! 
 
 B- 
 
 The sun shonld^never go down upon our anger; 
 
of females who were burnt to death by tlieir clothes catch- 
 
 THE AMERICAN PLOUGHMAN. 
 
 |- 
 
 
 T3 
 
 O 
 
 DR HOLMES. 
 
 Clear the brown path to meet tbe coulter's gleam ! 
 Lo ! on he comes behind his smoking team. 
 With toil's bright dew-drops on his sun-burnt brow. 
 The lord of eartb, the hero of the plough ! 
 
 First in the field before the reddening sun, 
 Last in the shadows when the day is done, 
 Line after line along the burning sod 
 Marks the broad acres -where his feet have trod ; 
 Still where he treads the stubborn clods divide. 
 The smooth, fresh furrow opens deep and wide ; 
 Matted and dense the tangled turf upheaves, 
 Mellow and dark the ridgy cornfield cleaves ; 
 Up the steep hill-side where the laboring train 
 Slants the long track that scores the level plain ; 
 Through the moist valley clogged with oozing clay. 
 The patient convoy breaks its destined way ; 
 At every turn the loosening chains resound. 
 The swinging ploughshare circles glistening round, 
 Till the wide field one billowy waste appears. 
 And wearied hands unbind the panting steers. 
 
 These are the hands whose sturdy labor brings 
 The peasant's food, the ^Iden pomp of kings; 
 This is the page whose letters shall be seen 
 Changed by the sun to words of living green ; 
 This is the scholar whose immortal pen 
 Spells the first lesson hunger taught to men ; 
 These are the lines, Heaven-commanded toil. 
 That fill thy deed — the charter of the soil ! 
 
 e: 
 S- 
 
 s- 
 
 I 
 
 B 
 f 
 
 B- 
 
 
 5 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 O gracious Mother, whose benignant breast 
 Wakes us to life and lulls us all to rest, 
 How sweet thy features, kind to every clime, 
 Mock with their smile the wrinkled front of time ! 
 
 Hany m«D &il of sucoess in life for the want of great occasions. 
 
asked by a younger one what she Tpould reeommend in case 
 
 230 THE AMERICAN PLOUGHMAN. 
 
 We stain thy flowers — -they blossom o'er the dead ; 
 
 We rend thy bosom, and it gives us bread ; 
 
 O'er the red field that trampling strife has torn, 
 
 Waves the green plumage of the tasseled corn ; Z 
 
 Our maddening conflicts scar thy fairest plain, g 
 
 Still thy soft answer is the growing grain. 
 
 Yet, ! our mother, while uncounted charms 
 
 Round the fresh clasp of thine embracing arms. 
 
 Let not our virtues in thy love decay. 
 
 And thy fond weakness waste our strength away. 
 
 No ! by these hills, whose banners, now displayed, 
 3 In blazing cohorts Autumn has arrayed ; 
 
 .a 
 
 >. 
 
 
 
 By yon twin crest, amid the sinking sphere. 
 
 ° Last to dissolve, and first to reappear ; 
 
 By these fair plains the mountain circle screens, 
 J And feeds in silence from its dark ravines ; 
 
 True to their home, these faithful arms shall toil g] 
 
 To crown with peace their own untainted soil ; 
 
 And true to God, to Fj-eedom, to Mankind, a. 
 
 If her chained bandogs Faction sliall linbind, 
 S These stately forms, that bending even now, 
 
 g Bowed their strong manhood to the humble plough, "S 
 
 Shall rise erect, the guardians of the land, ^ 
 
 The same stern iron in the same right hand. 
 
 Till Greylook thunders to the parting sun 
 ■f The sword has rescued what the ploughshare won ! 
 
 o. 
 
 T 
 
 cu 
 
 a » 
 
 I §* 
 
 - 'S. 
 
 a 
 
 1> § 
 
 Jealousy esaeta the hardest service, and pays the bitterest wages. 
 
their time. Such persons beg their daily happiness in going 
 
 ■s 
 s- 
 
 > 
 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Fame, 
 A prattling gossip, on whose tongue 
 Proof of perpetual motion hung. 
 Whose lungs in strength all lungs surpass, 
 Like her own trumpet made of brass; 
 Who with a hundred pair of eyes. 
 The vain attacks of sleep defies; 
 Who with a hundred pair of wings 
 News from the farthest quarters brings; 
 Sees, hears, and tells, untold before, 
 All that she knows — and ten times more. 
 
 Among the good things in rural life, it cannot be denied, we 
 have some things that are disagreeable, especially to those who 
 have lived mostly in cities. It is proverbial, that to everything 
 in nature and morals there is a counterpart. In giving local 
 designations to the celestial sphere, if there be a zenith there 
 must also be a nadir ; or, if we fix cardinal points to the hori- 
 zon, there is an east as well as a west point — a north as well as 
 a south. This is in no small degree analogous to the laws en- 
 tering into the elements of moral and social life. Hence, we 
 here denominate the improper development of these laws, ex- 
 crescences, which literally mean things that grow, unnaturally 
 and without use, out of something else — preternatural and 
 morbid superfluities. In the animal economy, an excrescence is 
 a deformity which should, if practicable, be removed by the 
 knife or cauterized ; so likewise in tiie social economy. 
 
 It is well known that in the large city people generally take 
 no more notice of each other, unless personally acquainted, than 
 though they did not belong to the same species. Tliey may 
 meet each other in the streets, without the least fraternal recog- 
 nition, more than if they were so many cattle. They may live 
 in houses adjoining each other, as much strangers as though 
 they were a thousand miles apart. They may go to the same 
 church, and occupy contiguous pews, year after year, and 
 seemingly with as little sympathy as though they worshiped 
 different gods. And to such an extreme is this trait in city 
 
 Folly disgusts us less by her ignorance, than Pedantry by her learning. 
 
quiet his rest, how composed his mind, and how free from care, 
 
 232 .SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 ■3 
 
 .a 
 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 manners carried, it has been said if a lady of one house were to 
 fall into the street gutter filled with water and filth, the gentle- 
 man of the next house might apprehend it would be deemed an 
 aet of rudeness if he were to attempt helping her out. And 
 without referring to such exti-eme cases, it would ordinarily be 
 esteemed an act of low life impertinence, if one person should 
 evince any feeling of interest in matters important only to others, 
 provided he had no formal acquaintance with them. He might 
 put his friendly hand on the head of his neighbor's dog, but 
 would not presume to exchange salutations with the dog's 
 master. 
 
 People in the country appear shocked at this conventional 
 formality and reserve in city manners, supposing it denotes a 
 destitution of the most amiable attributes of our nature. It is 
 merely an incident of life in dense communities. Under other 
 circumstances, it will be found that the same individuals will be 
 most prompt in responding to all claims on their kind regard. 
 It is in cities that we are mainly to look for the m.ost illustrious 
 specimens of human kindness ; and, to those familjar with the 
 reasons for the reserve here indicated, there will appear no in- 
 consistency of character from the other tendency in their social 
 affections. Both exist in harmony, 
 
 In a rural population, people go to an extreme opposite to 
 that of the reserve in the city. Here it seems to be a matter 
 required by general agreement, that every one shall know all 
 living within certain recognized limits ; that he should ever 
 greet them as friends ; and that he shonld ever evince an in- 
 terest in whatever related to them. This, indeed, may some- 
 times be a valuable source of pleasure ; a partial equivalent for 
 an isolated residence. To persons in some sections of country, 
 a family may be located a full mile from any particular acquaint- 
 ances, and not having opportunity to see any of them for a full 
 week. To such there may be an amiable motive in suspending 
 labor once or twice a day to gaze on the passing stranger ; and, 
 if he manifest a kindred recognition, it does much to relieve 
 them of the cheerless solitude that seems to cover them as with 
 a mantle. This habit of country people, so frequently denounced 
 as one of impudence or extreme awkwardness, is the result of 
 an amiable sensibility, without which man would be entirely 
 unfit for human society. It denotes a feeling of common sym- 
 pathy and brotherhood — a disposition to administer the rights 
 of hospitality — or, indeed, any services that may be required. 
 Let persons travel in the wilderness portions of our country, 
 where a space of from five to ten miles is to be traversed be- 
 tween house and house ; let the sojourner be weary and hungry. 
 
 Wisdom can draw expedient from necessity, and invention from difficulty. 
 
shall find that it is less difficult to hide a thousand guineas, 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 233 
 
 ^ 
 
 with night and storm gathering over him ; and, how dehghtful 
 to him will be the salutation of a group of cottagers collected at 
 their door, watching his approach, and bidding him enter for 
 refreshment and a night of repose ! Sueh is a common usage 
 in many districts of our broad land ; and, verily, to us recogni- 
 tions of that kind have kindled a glowing fellowship for our 
 brethren, wherever found and however humble, of more value 
 than gold, and which we shall cherish to the day of our death, 
 as among the most precious reminiscences of early life. This 
 is the result of the same fraternal impulse so frequently ridi- 
 culed as the impertinent and awkward gaze of country manners. 
 
 Although it may afford our readers far less pleasure than it 
 does the author, he trusts we shall be pardoned in reverting to 
 one of these incidents. Many years since, before we began to 
 realize in our own life that we were on its wane, with two pro- 
 fessional friends, a lawyer and a doctor, we were perambulating, 
 on horseback, a distant section of the country without well-de- 
 fined roads, and where we found human habitations at distances 
 far between. On one of these occasions we employed a hunter 
 for a guide to a ford in a river we were to cross, and which we 
 expected to reach about noon. He accompanied us till within 
 the distance of a mile, and then pointing the direction and the 
 path, took his leave. 
 
 Here we were in the midst of a dense growth of large tim- 
 ber and wood, rising from fifty to a hundred feet, and of pro- 
 portional size. It was a table of the Cumberland Mountains, 
 requiring a descent of four or five hundred feet to reach the 
 ford. The weather was cold, being the latter part of Febru- 
 ary, and it was rendered doubly dismal by thick clouds beto- 
 kening snow. No sooner had our guide left us than it began to 
 fall so fast, that in a few minutes the path was completely hid- 
 den. Without sun or compass, we were bewildered, and lost 
 our course, but still kept moving onward, not knowing whether 
 in the right or wrong direction. The snow increased, so that 
 in four or five hours it had reached the depth of eiglit inches. 
 Night closed in upon us, but having no implements for fire or 
 tent, we still kept moving. At last we resolved to descend the 
 mountain, though it might be in a retrograde direction. We 
 did so with much apparent peril, for we had to lead our horses, 
 and support ourselves by holding on to the trees. At last we 
 reached a river at its base^ the course of which we instinctively 
 followed, presuming we should thereby find human beings. 
 We were not disappointed ; for in the course of an hour we 
 discovered a light, and at the same instant the family dog gave 
 notice of our approach. It proved to be the river we crossed 
 
 It is nsual in countries where nature does most, man do£3 the least. 
 
our own cause, in the opinion 0/ the world, when we too pas- 
 
 234 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 the previous night, within a few miles of the place we left in 
 the morning. Thus we had wandered an entire day without 
 having made any advance in our onward course. 
 
 With the barking of the dog all the inmates of the familj', 
 six or eight of them, met us some distance from the house, 
 rejoicing in our arrival, though they knew us not from the in- 
 habitants of the Pacific Islands. We made our enirance, and 
 with the family surrounded a high blazing fire. Soon we per- 
 ceived we were in a group of pious Carapbellites, with hearts 
 warmed by Christian sympathy. We were strangers, and they 
 took us in — hungry, and they fed us. A detail of our journey, 
 particularly of that day, was minutely given ; and tliey evi- 
 dently enjoyed our society as much as we did their kindness 
 and hospitality. Being refreshed by a good night of sleep, 
 supper, and breakfast, for which they would receive no pay, in 
 the taorning they conducted us to our desired ford on the op- 
 posite side of the mountain. Our parting adieus were as sin- 
 cere and impressive as our first interview was joyous. Far 
 would we now go again to see the smiling face, and to recipro- 
 cate the strong grasp of their friendly hand. The pleasure of 
 this we expect not. But if those of earth recognize each other 
 in another world, may we not then have an exulting recollec- 
 tion of the evening described, when the blest encomium shall 
 be passed upon these mountaineers — Inasmuch as ye have exer- 
 cised kindness to my brethren, ye have done it unto me ! This 
 is a sample of rural hospitality, and even of that officious 
 familiarity oftentimes ridiculed as country impudence. 
 
 But highly as we prize the gushing friendship and the unstud- 
 ied familiarity thus manifested in a rural population, it is con- 
 ceded that occasionally, if not frequently, we have an excess of 
 what originates in the same trait of character. This feeling of 
 interest in the affairs of others is sometimes shown to an incon- 
 venient extent. Individuals are sometimes found who appear 
 to possess the leisure and the disposition to pry into the wants 
 and the circumstances of all living within the sphere of their 
 observation, which is unnecessary and impertinent ; not simply 
 in the way of being serviceable ; but the original impul. e for 
 doing good has grown or degenerated into a habit of self- con- 
 stituted oversight or inspection of whatever happens or is done 
 in their neighborhood. There cannot be an occwrence favor- 
 able or unfavorable to the interests of any one within these 
 limits, nor a confidential interview between families or individ- 
 uals, but what is pried into, raked up, and made the subject of 
 common gossip for weeks. In this way, everything done, said, 
 or thought, becomes as public as if it had been daily adver- 
 
 Th^ road to fame would cease to be arduous, if it were well trodden. 
 
band, there are persona who ciinfer an obligation so clumsily 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 235 
 
 a 
 
 p. 
 
 5 
 
 at 
 
 OS 
 
 1*1 
 
 tised in the common newspaper. No one has any secrets, or 
 can have any. With the agencies thus brought into requisition, 
 what should be secrets float about as freely as the atmosphere 
 we breathe ; not simply within the narrow district where they 
 would naturally excite most interest, but far beyond where the 
 parties had been previously known. Slander is of the most 
 expansive character. When once generated, it can no more be 
 confined than steam. Its dissemination resembles the forma- 
 tion of concentric circles on the water, the inner one caused by 
 any sudden impulse, as the casting of a stone upon its bosom ; 
 the agitation of the first or inner circle immediately causes a 
 second one to be formed beyond it ; and in the same manner 
 the third is formed by the second, and so on till the whole e.x- 
 panse is covered by these concentric waves ; not a particle of 
 the before quiet fluid remaining free from motion. This is the 
 same as the propagation of sound by concentric waves in the 
 atmosphere. And, in like manner, slander is propagated through 
 the whole community on the concentric waves in the social 
 breath. 
 
 We have denominated the evil of which we are speaking a 
 social excrescence ; an unnatural formation on a good stock ; 
 and hence to be made the subject of an excision. It is by no 
 means intimated that all in a rural community are liable to this 
 animadversion. Most persons, especially the male portion, 
 have no leisure or taste for it ; yet the better to illustrate the 
 subject, we will here introduce some sketches of the life of an 
 individual who, in her neighborhood, became much distinguished. 
 She lived with a generation nearly extinct, and of course the 
 details in these sketches will wound the feelings of none now 
 surviving. Indeed, she never had children posthumously to 
 rejoice in the good she did, or to lament the evils which it is 
 evident, as a faithful biographer, we are bound to record as a 
 portion 'of her deeds. It might have been an allotment of a 
 wise Providence that she should have no children, inasmuch as 
 the care of them would have been incompatible with the func- 
 tions that distinguished her life ; or, more probably, her loco- 
 motive habits would have prevented her liability to any such 
 family contingences. As she left no relatives to be pleased' or 
 displeased with our chronicles of her fame, it is apparent the 
 public good is our only motive in the preservation of them. If 
 Charity Longyarn, the name of our social heroine, is no longer 
 among, the living, there may be others like unto her, now as 
 memorable as she was ; so that, in giving her memoir, we make 
 a looking-glass in which hundreds of living prodigies may see 
 their own faces. 
 
 Fortane has been considered the guardian divinity of fools. 
 
positions, than in maintaining them. As to reverses, no general 
 
 60 
 
 .g 
 
 P. 
 
 236 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 It is not needful that we be particular in dates or localities, 
 as our general narrative will indicate both with sufficient pre- 
 cision. The father of Charity, or Aunt Charity, as she was 
 termed when in h«r zenith, lived in Connecticut, and was an 
 orderly sergeant in the Eevdlutionary War. His name was Tim- 
 othy Homespun ; and during one of his campaigns, perhaps 
 that signalized by the surrender of Burgoyne, his daughter 
 Charity was born. Her mother, Mrs. Homespun, was more 
 noted for her piety than her talents ; and, in the absence of her 
 husband, spent no small portion of her time in reading the 
 family Bible and kindred offices. The prominent feature of her 
 mind, especially when thus left alone, was an inclination to mel- 
 ancholy and superstition. Under such circumstances, this was I B 
 natural. One of these results had perhaps an influence upon 
 the temperament of Charity ; and, if not, led to the baptismal 
 name given her. It was the custom of Mrs Homespun, as of 
 other pious dames at that day, to place the Bible in a reveren- 
 tial manner on the table, to be opened by its own weight ; or, 
 as the reader imagined, by divine guidance, so that the verse 
 first catching the eye on one of the two pages presented, was 
 read and pondered, as if it contained matter at that moment 
 specially deserving attention. Indeed, this was often looked 
 upon as an immediate interposition of Heaven to lead the wait- 
 ing disciple to spiritual assistance in some unusual exigency 
 requiring supernatural aid in the Christian life. The sacred 
 volume thus opening, Mrs. Homespun's hands were pressed 
 upon it in a devotional attitude for so long a period, that the 
 firmness of its back became so impaired as to open again and 
 ever afterward, when thus put on the table, precisely in the 
 same place. Tlius was impression made certain, that here was 
 contained that very illumination and divine sustenance needed 
 by a lone woman expecting soon to become a mother. With 
 what emphasis would she affirm, that the Bible would not open 
 every day,, and sometimes ten times a day, in one particular 
 place, unless caused by God himself! Slie did not realize that 
 every time it was so opened, it became more certain, from natu- 
 ral causes, it would there open on the next occasion. No, she 
 preferred to give herself wholly up to the impulses of her cho- 
 sen faith. And into what ecstasies was she thus thrown ! What 
 a halo of heavenly effulgence seemed to encompass her ! What 
 undying and life-giving manna seemed to nourish her ! A per- 
 son must be as cruel as the grave to do aught to diminish such 
 influences, if he have not full confidence in their reality. 
 
 The chapter to which the eye and then the spiritual motion 
 of Mrs. Homespun was in this way directed, was that contain- 
 
 o 
 a 
 
 OS 
 
 We cannot lay in a stock of pleasure as we would lay in a stock of flour. 
 
erable. It is idle persona who are wretched. If I wanted to 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 237 
 
 a 
 
 s 
 
 s 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 a 
 
 ing St. Paul's eloquent and beautiful description of Charity. 
 It would be well for the wotld if people generally were more 
 led to this same portion of the inspired volume ! With all the 
 misapprehension in the present instance that may have had an 
 influence in giving it prominence, we should be unwilling to 
 deny that with an individual of her undoubted piety, she may 
 otherwise also have been led to this fountain of divine illumina- 
 tion. That good woman, it may be presumed, never afterward 
 ceased to realize that charity never faileth, hoping all things, 
 and believing all things. These breathings were the last that 
 hovered over her spirit on committing herself to repose and 
 sleep, and they were the first in the dawning morn which again 
 gave their soothing inspiration to her renovated energies. It is 
 well known what an impression, at such a period, is made on the 
 unborn offspring ; an offspring thus to be the child of prayer 
 and devout meditation. And so enraptured was the mother 
 with tlie vivid delineations of the Christian virtue here set forth, 
 she resolved the child should be called by that name, though it 
 should be a boy. Fortunately, the sex made the name appro- 
 priate ; and we may imagine that all which became particularly 
 deserving of notice in the life of Ciiarity Homespun — afterward 
 Charity Longyarn — was the result of impressions mysteriously 
 made by the mother on her embryo spirit and physical temper- 
 ament. 
 
 We are now to leave the mother, that we may make our 
 readers better acquainted with the daughter, who acquired an 
 unusual degree of notoriety for one not particularly favored by 
 fortune. Her younger years were passed in her father's house, 
 in domestic duties, with the ordinary attention to the routine of 
 books in the common school. She possessed great volubility, 
 and hence became a tolerably good reader ; but such was her 
 fluency of speech, that she woyld feel no hesitation, if she did 
 not know the pronunciation or meaning of a word. Rather 
 than to wait and inform herself, she would instanter call it some- 
 thing else. Occasionally, if she substituted one of dissimilar 
 sound and signification, it would make merriment among the 
 scholars, rather increased than otherwise by the gravity with 
 which she would proceed. So, likewise, she would talk for 
 hours on subjects with which she was wholly ignorant, without 
 the least hesitation or embarrassment, making it appear to those 
 as ignorant as herself, that she was marveloualy wise. Although 
 she was quick and shrewd in what is called inductive aritlimetic, 
 yet such was her mental obliquity, that on paper she was barely 
 able to show the process by which five and five make ten. But 
 in the matters appertaining to social life she was all instinct, and 
 
 The minds of men differ as much as their faces. 
 
tially impair it ; so the persons who, for every little triile said 
 
 238 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRT. 
 
 S 
 
 apparently knew everything. She seemed to know, by a kind 
 of intuition, the age and the thoughts of every one with whom 
 she was acquainted. Hence, as frequent reference to her in 
 these matters was made, as to the almanac or the printed ga- 
 zette. 
 
 At the age of thirty she married Simon Longyarn, a corpo- 
 ral in a militia company. This added much to her peculiar cap- 
 ital. He was, of course, led to a species of official knowledge 
 of every male within his precincts ; and, to her own stock, she 
 readily availed herself of all that he knew. She knew as 
 familiarly about the .knives and forks and chamber furniture of 
 every house he had occasion to visit, as he knew about the 
 guns, and canteens, and knapsacks, and bayonets, and cartridge- 
 boxes of the citizen soldiers. Whenever he returned from one 
 of his excursions among them, she would be sure to engross his 
 attention for hours in answering all manner of questions pro- 
 pounded to him concerning what he saw and heard. These 
 questions would relate to the most trifling things imaginable ; 
 not so much, apparently, O'Ut of an idle curiosity, as to educe 
 information for some practicable purposes. Never would she 
 exult or manifest pleasure on hearing bad news. Such was not 
 the tone of her feelings. On the other hand, there would be 
 signs of grief, and exclamations of sorrow indicating Regret. 
 And on meeting at a tea-party or elsewhere, Mrs. Lovetalk, 
 Mrs. Chatterbox, Mrs. Allnews, Mrs. Credulous, or any one 
 else, accustomed every week to assemble in council for the ben- 
 efit of the neighborhood, she would say, as in an agony, Who 
 would .ever have thought that Mr. Faiibody abuses his wife ? 
 On being asked by half a dozen of the party in the same 
 breath if she knew it was so, would reply. Oh no ! but the last 
 time she saw Mrs. Fairbody she looked as if she had been cry- 
 ing. Notwithstanding, an accusation was here raised against 
 Mr. Fairbody by a disbelieving inquir)', and then a negative put 
 upon it, these sympathizers would go away repeating, each with 
 her own modifications, what had been said by Mrs. Longyarn, 
 so that within a month after it would be currently reported as 
 a fact, that he habitually aiid cruelly abused his wife. This is 
 but a single instance of the oiigin and dissemination of slander, 
 and against a deserving man and a kind husband, by a band of 
 individuals who seem to breathe only in kindness to all mankind. 
 
 Mrs. Longyarn, after the death of her husband, was always 
 called Aunt Charity. Having a nice little house and no family, 
 she could lock it up, and sometimes be absent an entire week. 
 Thus she could spend her whole time in visiting and journeying 
 throughout the town, administering to morbid sensibility, and 
 
 We frequently hate some persons because we do not know them. 
 
Young man, be like that rock. Vice may entice, and the 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 239 
 
 exciting to charitable deeds wherever she went. Sometimes 
 she would spend a day — sometimes two or three days with the 
 same family ; and when the whole population had thus shared 
 in her affectionate regard, she would, in the same manner, go 
 over the ground again. There would not be a tea-party, a quilt- 
 ing-party, or a charitable sewing-circle meeting of any kind, 
 without tiie benefit of her presence. Here all daily occurring 
 news would acquire a permanency equal to that on stereotype 
 plates ; and reminiscences of the past, even for a whole gen- 
 eration, would receive a perfect freshness of character. Had 
 such instrumentalities been in existence prior to the invention of 
 printing, there would not he such a destitution of the records 
 of ancient time as we are now obliged to deplore. Aunt Char- 
 ity was literally, and in the most unhmited extent, a walking 
 intelligence office. 
 
 Aunt Charity seemed to possess, unintentionally, a most ex- 
 traordinary aptitude in conjuring up suspicions against innocent 
 persons ; as, for instance, in the case of Mr. Fairbody. A sanc- 
 timonious air of solemnity would give additional importance to 
 everything she might utter; and, sometimes even a deep sigh 
 and look of agony toward a particular house or a passing indi- 
 vidual, would leave an impression on all witnessing it, that there 
 was a tale of sin too awful to be revealed. On one occasion, 
 at a quilting-party. Miss Sukey Primface passed the window of 
 the house where it was held. In an instant, as the eye of 
 Aunt Charity fell upon the unconscious girl, the old lady drop- 
 ped her needle, sighed, and raised her hands. " What," ex- 
 clahned Mrs. Chatterbox, " can be the matter ? Are you faint, 
 Aunt Charity ? Get the smelling-bottle, or some cold water, 
 instantly." As no one but Aunt Charity saw Sukey pass the 
 house, for some minutes it was a perfect mystery what could 
 have happened. At last, Aunt Charity, recovering a little, 
 replies, " Oh, dear, didn't }rou see that girl go along ?" " What 
 girl?" answered Mrs. Lovetalk. " Why," rejoins the old lad}', 
 in a somewhat subdued tone — " why, Sukey Primface !" " And 
 what of that?" asked Mrs. Credulous. Upon this. Aunt 
 Cliarity was seemingly obliged to explain, and said, "Oh, dear, 
 for a long time, whenever the preacher says anything in his 
 sermons about undutiful children, Mrs. Primface says Ainen in 
 such a loud and distressing tone, something, I know, must be 
 wrong, and I scarcely dare to say it, but I am afraid Sukey 
 treats her step-mother badly." A general pause ensued, yet 
 not without excited emotion ; and the thing was discussed in all 
 its bearings ; some, as Sukey was such a pious, nice girl, disbe- 
 lieving it altogether, while others of the party were afraid there 
 
 Hope is said to be a prodigal young heir, and Experience his banker. 
 
having been mistaken a thoueaiid times, I was not half so 
 
 240 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 VI 
 
 might be some truth in it. Whether true or false, one thing is 
 certain, that within three months, poor Sukey Primfaee was 
 called before the class-meeting for discipline, on charges orig- 
 inating in the above incident. 
 
 Not dissimilar to the above in character was another case 
 attended with more distressing results. Near to the house of 
 Aunt Charity lived a quiet, industrious man with a large family 
 of children, which, by hard work and good management, were 
 always kept decent and sent to the Sunday School. His 
 name was Peter Temperance. He owned a few acres of land, 
 keeping a cow, pig, and poultry, but was frequently in debt for 
 sugar, tea, coiFee, molasses and the like, fifteen or twenty dol- 
 lars, to be paid, as convenient, in eggs or day-labor. True, in 
 the sequel it will appear that the practice of getting in debt is 
 bad ; but such was the character of Mi'. Temperance for indus- 
 try, honesty, and sobriety, that for a small sum his credit was 
 as good as that qf any one in town. Early one morning Aunt 
 Charity, at her window looking into the road, observed her 
 neighbor on his way in a direction from the rum-store to his 
 own house, with a suspicious-looking bottle in his hand. Accord- 
 ing to her own admission, she was confounded. No one being 
 present, her ejaculations have never been reported. But, as 
 soon as she had eaten her breakfast, no time was lost in seeing 
 Mrs. Allnews and other sympathizers. The facts were stated, 
 and the case was viewed with alarm. The early hour of the 
 morning, before people generally were up, and then coming 
 from the direction of that store, seemed to render it probable 
 that he had gotten something in his bottle which ought not to 
 be there, and that he did not wish to be seen with it by his 
 neighbors. Aunt Charity was appointed a committee to ^ee if 
 he again did the same. This was fatal. She did watch every 
 morning from the first dawn of day ; and she was as regularly 
 seen at this early moment at her window facing the house of 
 Peter Temperance, as the first rays of light were seen shooting 
 over the hills of the eastern horizon. The appalling discoveries, 
 too, most be revealed. In such cases, there can be no seciecy. 
 She not only watched, but far before the rising of the sun, on 
 five different mornings, she saw again that hateful black bottle, 
 black as his Satanic Majesty, who no doubt, in her opinion, was 
 ruining the soul and body of Temperance in thus using it ; 
 and coming from the direction of the rum-store removed all 
 doubt as to its contents. 
 
 The crisis was now nearly reached. Aunt Charity made a 
 formal report to her constituents — the duly organized sisterhood 
 of the place. No doubt that the worst suspicions were verified, 
 
 Theory is worth but little, unless it can explain its own phenomena. 
 
own account. The devil treated him as he does yonng game- 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 241 
 
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 and that Peter Temperance had become a confirmed drunkard. 
 The reports took wings, and went like lightning in every direc- 
 tion. The first avalanche upon Peter was an attachment of his 
 cow and pig, to satisfy the demand of the storekeeper, who ap- 
 prehended this now would be the only means of securing his 
 debt — not the storekeeper by whom it was conjectured the 
 black bottle had been so often filled ; but the temperance 
 storekeeper that supplied his family with a few groceries. 
 Assuming it as a fact that the allegations were true, he very 
 naturally became indignant that the money was expended for 
 rum which should have been paid over to himself. The cow 
 and the pig were accordingly sold ; and Peter, to the moment 
 of the attachment, knew nothing of what was passing about 
 him. Of the suspicions respecting the black bottle he was 
 wholly ignorant. His daily toils, as usual, had been devoted to 
 the support of his family. His evenings had invariably been 
 spent with his family ; and with the exception of an hour each 
 morning before sunrise, for the period of five or six weeks, he 
 had not been from his own premises, excepting also Sundays, 
 for he was scrupulous to attend church. This morning absence 
 from his own premises, under the suspicious circumstances 
 named, will be found in the sequel to have merited far diflFerent 
 treatment. Had some one possessed the kindness to have gone 
 to him, and told him what was being said in relation to it, much 
 trouble to him, and much mortification to those manifesting so 
 great interest in his case, would have been prevented. This is 
 what should always be done, when a brother is supposed to 
 have erred. This is the law of the Gospel. This is the dictate 
 of enlightened and sincere friendship. Thus, if there has been 
 misapprehension in regard to facts, it is removed ; and, proba- 
 bly, if there has been none, there will be repentance and amend- 
 ment of life. Did Christian people generally spend the time in 
 kindly visiting and counseling those in error, oi- supposed to be 
 in error, instead of driving them by slander and undue crimina- 
 tion from the pale of decent society, how much evil would be 
 prevented, and how much' good would be achieved ! How fre- 
 quently would penury itself be alleviated ! How often would 
 family desolation be prevented ! How often would individual 
 character be saved from ruin ! 
 
 It is an old proverb, that calamities do not come singly. 
 Ordinarily they press on their victim in crowds, or in quick 
 succession. So it was in the present instance. Peter Tem- 
 perance had not fully recovered from the first panic, or fully 
 began to realize the distress coming on his family for the want 
 of his cow, when he was summoned before the Church to an- 
 
 It is not so difficult to plant new truths, as to root out old errors. 
 
as public characters on the grand theatre of human life. Great 
 
 242 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 •a 
 3 
 
 swer for the crime of drunkenness. Of his guilt there seemed 
 to be no doubt. Such were the grounds of suspicion, by most 
 of those to sit in judgment on the complaint made against him, the 
 possibility of innocence was not admitted. It was not so much, 
 therefore, for trial that he was arraigned, as to reeeive admoni- 
 tion and sentence of excommunication. The occasion, moreover, 
 was deemed a proper one to vindicate the purity of the Church ; 
 to express its abhorrence of the beastly crime now made the 
 subject of deliberation ; and, to present this case of apostasy 
 from piety and good morals as a beacon of terror to all others 
 who might be led into a similar temptation. If such were the 
 motives prominent on this occasion of administering discipline, 
 they were not without legitimate ground of plausibility. But, 
 if such views may on sound principles connect themselves with 
 the infliction of punishment, it should never be forgotten, that 
 so far as practicable, the reformation of the offender is the first 
 thing to enter into every code of laws for the regulation of hu- 
 man conduct. If an individual, by a reckless and protracted 
 career of crime has become an outlaw from the pale of civilized 
 society ; if the safety of society cannot be maintained so long 
 as the offender is allowed to remain at large, lie may be forever 
 deprived of his liberty, or made a sacrifice to the public good. 
 Such a result has ever received the sanction of the wisest and 
 the best men of all past time. 
 
 Nevertheless, in all minor cases of moral delinquency, the 
 reformation of the offender is to stand in prominent relief ; is to 
 be placed in the front ground of the picture, while the other 
 objects alluded to are to stand at remote points. It is to be 
 feared that such was not the judicial panoply brought to bear 
 on the case of Peter Temperance. To our apprehension, the 
 Church as a collective body, or the reputation, or the pride, or 
 the self-conceit of some of its members, assumed the front 
 ground of the panorama, leaving the individual reputation and 
 welfare of the accused, or of his suffering family, in the broad 
 distance, barely perceptible unless to microscopic eye. Hence, 
 on this trial, as it was called, every member had to make a 
 speech on the evils of drunkenness, and the necessity for purg- 
 ing the Church from the very appearance of it. Some pressed 
 this latter view so far, as to think, that if a member were only 
 suspected of it and not guilty, if he were a poor man without 
 much worldly influence, for the good of the Church he should 
 be exscinded. In those days, with their characteristic zeal in 
 religion, the female members were very conspicuous in giving 
 their testimony in all cases like the present. No one should 
 wonder at this, when it is considered how much they frequently 
 
 A great mind may change its objects, b'jt it cannot relinquish them. 
 
which the multitude would pursue. But, to effect this, hespeaka 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 243 
 
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 suffer from the ruinous vice under consideration. To an un- 
 protected and poverty-stricken wife, a drunken, beastly husband, 
 is an every-day curse, justly evoking the denunciations of the 
 entire female portion of the community. 
 
 Among the most fervid of those wUo entered their protest 
 against this awful sin, was Aunt Charity. In the first place, 
 the accusations in this case originated in her vigilance to detect 
 whatever might be wrong. Then she had grown into a posi- 
 tion of being a kind of prosecuting attorney. Of course, she 
 was supposed to make the closing onset against the accused. 
 On finishing and taking her seat, the vote of excommunication 
 was about to be declared. Up to this juncture Peter Temper- 
 ance opened not his mouth ; quiet and unresisting, like a lamb 
 carried to the slaughter, or the sheep that is dumb in the hands 
 of the shearer ! During the whole time, he sat, resting on his 
 elbow, inclining forward, supporting his head with his hand. 
 Now, with a sigh, he rose, as if to speak. To this there were 
 many objections. Some said they wanted to hear nothing from 
 a drunkard, and that the church had already suffered disgrace 
 enough on his account. Others said, that the testimony of 
 Aunt Charity was conclusive, and that it was pnly a waste of 
 time to hear anything in reply. The accused continued stand- 
 ing with an air of meekness and conscious innocence, that kindly 
 disposed some to pity him, and hence to listen to what he might 
 hav« to say. On this, he affirmed his innocence; and, also, 
 his grief, in being obliged, as it were, to publish to the world 
 a few deeds, the giving but a little else than a cup of cold 
 water, to a fellow-Christian, which were to have remained a 
 secret to the day of final retribution, known only to God, the 
 receiver, and himself. And, it grieved him most to bring into 
 public notice a deeply afHicted lady, once in affluence, but now 
 desirous of submitting, in retirement, to the pains and straits of 
 poverty and deep affliction. If his brethren and sisters would 
 listen for a few minutes to Mrs. Patience Sorrowful, sitting in 
 the most distant corner of the room, they would be informed 
 respecting that suspicious bottle that had given them and him- 
 self all this inconvenience. 
 
 The room was as still as the house of death. AU eyes at 
 once were turned to the corner designated. At the same 
 instant there rose up a tall, slender female figure, in full mous- 
 ing vesture, hitherto unobserved by the mass of those present. 
 At first her face was entirely obscured by a long, close veil. 
 This was in part soon cast aside, but for some minutes she 
 remained speechless. Her face was pale, almost like a corpse, 
 and a slight tremor was manifest on every part of her frame. 
 
 Our very best friends have a tincture of jealousy even in their friendship. 
 
the strength, and from its consumption of the pure oxygenous 
 
 244 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
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 Had a spirit from the otlier world been let in upon them, the 
 effect could not have been more perfect. Who it yras, or 
 whence it came, was a mystery. Even Aunt Charity, with all 
 her familiar knowledge of the localities of the town and of its 
 inhabitants, was as ignorant as the others. Indeed, her in- 
 stincts in particular, notwithstanding her agency in the existing 
 proceedings, inclined her, evidently, to the belief that this 
 unwonted figure was a messenger from the region of spirits. 
 Her own heart palpitations, like those of several others, were 
 even audible as well as visible. At last, Mrs. Sorrowful, with 
 distinct and tremulous articulation, commenced her narrative. 
 It was short, but every word was an arrow of truth to the over- 
 whelmed listeners. The following is a brief abstract of it. 
 
 It appears that Mrs. Sorrowful, about a year previous, had 
 been left a widow, with one child, then ten months old. Her 
 husband had been a merchant in an adjacent city ; but, owing 
 to inexplicable losses, his estate was declared insolvent. The 
 widow, to conceal her grief and her disappointment, with a 
 small pittance of means, procured a single room in a small cot- 
 tage in the same direction, and about half a mile beyond the 
 rum-store spoken of by Aunt Charity. Here she lived in per- 
 fect seclusion, using in the nlost sparing manner her limited 
 stock — which, unlike the barrel of meal and the cruse of oil 
 that sustained the widow of Zarephath, was soon exhausted. 
 She watched its daily diminution with painful solicitude. She 
 wrote to her distant friends, stating her extremities ; but no 
 answer came. Each day furnished additionally impressive evi- 
 dence that utter exhaustion was near at hand. As if on board 
 a disabled ship with short provisions, the daily allowance was 
 diminished. Still no answer came, and the last atom was used 
 up ! What a dilemma ! What a climax of human destitu- 
 tion ! What a crisis for moral courage ! What an exigency 
 to be surmounted only by faith, and hope, and prayer 1 The 
 day which revealed this crisis drew to a close with monitions 
 upon the heart of Mrs. Sorrowful never before realized. Night 
 set in with chilling shadows never before felt, and the strong 
 eastern wind in every direction was heard to breathe a mourn- 
 ful monody of th6 desolation reigning within. The only re- 
 maining resource was sleep, and the consolations of religion. 
 She commended herself and her offspring to the Being who is 
 ever the friend of the widow and the fatherless, Nature was 
 apparently exhausted, and she was soon lost in quiet repose. 
 
 Hitherto, Peter Temperance had never heard of Mrs. Sorrow- 
 ful. On the above day he finished his labors as usual, and then 
 retired to rest. Sleep makes the farmer forget his toils. So it 
 
 Pain may be said to follow pleasure as its shadow. 
 
jert. After tot weather, a day which is not very cold will yet feel 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 245 
 
 
 now was with Temperance. In a few minutes the world to him 
 was an ocean of oblivion ; yet his sleep was not, as heretofore, 
 uninterrupted and sound. Flitting phantoms soon began to 
 disturb his imagination. With dreams he was rarely disturbed. 
 In dreams he was wont to have no faith. So it is with our- 
 selves. We can, indeed, amuse ourselves in a leisure hour with 
 the speculations of Abercrombie, and Macknish, and Upham, on 
 the philosophy of dreams ; but we cannot, in truth, say we 
 have any settled belief in their reality. Truly, we have repeat- 
 edly heard instances of dreaming, which so accurately beto- 
 kened coming realities, that our incredulity has been nearly 
 demolished. The case we are now to mention is one of those 
 instances. It is the dream of Peter Temperance. About mid- 
 night he was startled out of sleep with the vivid impression of 
 a dream before him, that in the cottage where Mrs. Sorrowful 
 resided, was a lady and her child in the agonies of starvation. 
 Ere long he beearae quiet, and again slept ; but the same dream 
 again broke his slumbers. Perhaps two hours then elapsed 
 before he was so relieved fi'om the excitement as to fall asleep 
 •the third time. And, wonderful to tell, with the very first 
 dawn of morning light, the same dream, with more startling 
 solemnity, was impressed on his imagination to such a degree, 
 that he arose frona his bed, not doubting it was a communication 
 from Heaven ; that he was commissioned to save life ; or, that 
 if he neglected it, the loss would be at his own peril. Ik such 
 a case there could be no hesitation or delay, for delay might be 
 the same in its results as disbelief and defiance. Accordingly 
 he left his bed, milked his cow, filled the black bottle with milk, 
 took a loaf of bread, and without disturbing his family, started 
 for the designated cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Sorrowful slept quietly and even sweedy, not being dis- 
 turbed by dreams of future want ; and the first sound heard 
 by her, about an hour before sunrise, was a gentle rap on her 
 door. As nothing of the kind had before happened, she at 
 first experienced a little perturbation, but arose, and with con- 
 venient speed went to the door. It was no sooner opened than 
 she beheld before her the figure of an unknown man, with a 
 loaf of bread in one hand, and a bottle of milk in the other. 
 Her first thought was, that in answer to her prayers, an angel 
 was sent to her ; but on telling her his dreams, and she telling 
 him of her necessities, it seemed to them both that the agency of an 
 angel had been given to one in human form to save human life. 
 She took the loaf of bread, emptied the bottle, and he, on 
 leaving, promised to repeat his visits at each returning dawn. 
 This he did, till relieved by her friends; and Aunt Charity, 
 
 It is a mistake that a lust for power is the mark of a great mind. 
 
another sit by a warm fire — then introduce both into a room 
 
 246 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
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 seeing him a few times returning with his empty bottle, sup- 
 posed he had been away, at that early hour, when none would 
 be likely to witness him, to purchase rum. The effect of this 
 revelation was instantaneous ; the court of inquisition was dis- 
 solved without form ; the good standing of Temperance contin- 
 ued as it was before ; yet his cow and his pig came not to him 
 again. 
 
 Such an interposition of Providence in behalf of an honest 
 man, unjustly accused of a brutal vice, was viewed by all hav- 
 ing knowledge of it, as an unequivocal rebuke upon the instiga- 
 tors of this persecution. No one could view it otherwise. 
 Heaven could not well make a more manifest exhibition of its 
 displeasure, unless it had been in smiting the oflenders to the 
 earth. All realized it, and as frequent as had been before sim- 
 ilar instances of persecution and slander, it is believed there was 
 in that generation no other aggravated case within the limits of 
 the town. Aunt Charity was ever afterward an altered woman, 
 showing that what she did was without malice, and under the 
 impulse of mistaken zeal. From that period, therefore, when- 
 ever it became needful for her to give vent to a native propen- 
 sity which had been at the bottom of the evils described, she 
 bad prudence to do it through small fissures, as casks of unfer- 
 mented liquoi-S are saved from bursting, by 'a little gimblet 
 aperture on the top not larger than a pipe-stem. Close by her 
 little house was a district school-house, and the children had to 
 go to her well for drink. ,Now, instead of making insinuations 
 aflFecting the moral character of her neighbors, she would occupy 
 herself in questioning these children, one after another, what they 
 had for breakfast or for dinner, till she would be as familiar 
 with the edibles daily used up in the compass of a mile, as if 
 she had done the entire cooking for the whole population. 
 This became her hobby, and she would seemingly think of noth- 
 ing else. If she was led to suppose persons had eaten too 
 freely, or what was detrimental to health, it would distress her 
 beyond conception. Or if she was passing by a house, and 
 observed a quantity of fresh bones from the culinary depart- 
 ment, to determine their character, and the probable quantity 
 of meat taken from them and used that day by the family, she 
 would stop and examine them with the precision that a phre- 
 nologist would examine the skull of a dead culprit. Or if she 
 should in a similar way discover an unusual quantity of fresh 
 clam-shells, she would stop and count them ; and if it seemed 
 to her that the number was 150 large as to endanger the health 
 of the family, she would be in a panic of anxiety lest some of 
 them should be seized with the cholera. It haS even been re- 
 
 They trtily mourn, that mourn without & witoeas. 
 
tain land of Mexico, will fuel the clbaate become colder, and 
 
 SOCIAL EXCRESCENCES IN THE COUNTRY. 247 
 
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 ported, that she has in some cases, uuder such circumstances, 
 called on the town physician, to admonish him to be in readi- 
 ness to visit certain families, as he would doubiless be needed. 
 
 Aunt Charity, like all otheis, has had her day, and were it 
 not for the above reminiscences, would be entirely forgotten. 
 Were it not for the use of them already premised, far would it 
 be from us to disturb her resting-place. Her name should be 
 a mantle for her faults. If these sketches have been moulded 
 into a mirror in which others of a kindred spirit can see their 
 own faces, we are satisiiedi 
 
 But it is not to be forgotten that a good biographer or liisto- 
 rian has another duty to perform in addition to a full and hon- 
 est exhibition of facts. A moral is to be deduced and spread 
 before the reader. In connection with the present subject 
 much might be said. By few only is it suflBeiently realized tliat 
 we can do our neighbors no greater injustice than to make even 
 an insinuation or inquiry that may soil their characters. We 
 should shudder at the very thought of maiming their cattle, or 
 stealing their corn ; but what is this compared with defiling 
 their fair fame ? It has been engraven on our memory from 
 early youth, as with the pen of a diamond, that those who steal 
 my money steal trash, while those who filch from me my good 
 name, take that which enriches not themselves, but which im- 
 poverishes me beyond reparation. Never was there uttered a 
 sentiment more full of truth ; yet, how often disregarded ! And 
 it cannot be denied, that in the country, especially, is a kind of 
 small slander growing out of the familiar, and even kind social 
 habits, which is much to be lamented, and ought to be de- 
 nounced. If we can say no good of our neighbors, let us say 
 nothing. If they have a kind of mixed character, let us speak 
 as occasion requires of what is praiseworthy, and preserve 
 silence as to everything else. 
 
 The most cruel kind of defamation is that which relates to the 
 poor. The rich, and all who have a commanding position in 
 society, especially such as have influential fiiends, are easily 
 protected against injustice of this kind. If untruths are uttered 
 against them, there is a spontaneous contnidiction from a thou- 
 sand tongues. And, if temporarily believed, such persons are 
 not dependent on the public for the means of subsistence. The 
 sun still shines upon them. Their fiiends still gather round 
 them. Their stocks still yield them a dividend. Their fields 
 still ripen before them. Not so is it with the poor, especially 
 the hired laborers. What have they but tlieir good name and 
 their hands, on which to depend for a living ? If you destroy 
 their good name ; if you impeach their honesty ; if you send 
 
 The worst men often give the best advice. 
 
thaii the ordinary temperature. On the other hand, in cold weather, 
 
 248 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH X 
 
 i 
 
 them abroad, with an accusation of indolence, or drunkenness, 
 or reckless passion on their character, who will take them into 
 their houses — who will give them employment ? To cheat such 
 persons out of ten dollars would be kindness compared with 
 sending them away with a false accusation resting upon them, 
 which in the end may deprive them of the means of earning ten 
 dollars ten times over. If that class of persons deserve a good 
 name, on no account fail to let them have the full benefit of it. 
 
 There is a lust in man no charm can tame, 
 Of loudly publishing his neighbor's shame ; 
 On eagle's wings immortal scandals &y. 
 While virtuous actions are but born and die. 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH? 
 
 In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd 
 
 The kings, and awful fathers of mankind : 
 
 And some, with whom compared your insect tribes 
 
 Are bwt the beings of a summer's day, 
 
 Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm 
 
 Of mighty war, then, with unwearied hand. 
 
 Disdaining little delicacies, seized 
 
 The plough, and greatly independent lived. 
 
 In order to answer this interrogatory, it is necessary to tell in 
 what riches consist. The common idea on the subject is quite 
 indefinite. What, in one place, is properly called riches, may 
 not deserve that name in another place. In a town where none 
 of the inhabitants, save one, possessed above five thousand dol- 
 lars, and he possessed ten, that one probably, according to the 
 approved use of language, would be called rich by his neigh- 
 bors ; and, if he possessed fifty thousand, on the same principle, 
 might be called very rich. Yet, if this same individual, with 
 his ten thousand dollars, were to remove to a city or district of 
 country where it is common to find persons worth a hundred 
 thousand, and even five hundred thousand, and some few a 
 million, he in no wise would be called rich. Hence, it is evi- 
 dent, to be rich is a relative term. One is rich or poor, in public 
 
 Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines. 
 
eiderable way below the surface ; the degree of heat will be found 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH? 249 
 
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 estimation, when compared with others ; particularly with those 
 in proximity to hira. All understand the term in this way. 
 
 Another distinction may be premised. Riches do not neces- 
 sarily consisit in money ; that is, gold and silver. These precious 
 metals are rather the constituted representatives of riches, than 
 in themselves deserving the appellation ; the same as a note of 
 hand is the representation or evidence of debt — or, the same as 
 a chartered bank-bill is the representative of gold and silver in 
 the bank vault. In one case, the indebtedness of one individual 
 to another may exist in equity, if there is no legal evidence of 
 it, in the form of a note. In the other case, the gold and silver 
 may be deposited in the bank vault even before the bills are 
 issued. So it is in regard to wealth. All the elements of it 
 may be found in abundance, where gold and silver are found in 
 limited quantities ; and, even if there were a complete destitu- 
 tion of them. The gold and silver in any country bear but a 
 small proportion to the wealth of the country. So the gold and 
 silver in the possession of most individuals bear but a small pro- 
 portion to their individual wealth. Money, therefore, is not valu- 
 able on its own account, but as the constituted representation of 
 something else ; and, hence, is the most convenient means of 
 procuring the various articles needed by us under the various 
 circumstances of life. If gold and silver would not thus pro- 
 cure us the things required in social life — to wit, food and rai- 
 ment, houses and equipage — it is evident their supposed value 
 would be greatly reduced, if not annihilated. Of what value to 
 a starving man would be a mountain of gold, provided it would 
 not procure him food ? Accordingly, in a time of famine, 
 money loses its reputed value ; and a drowning man from a 
 foundered ship would as readily give one hundred dollars as 
 five dollars for the saving of his life. And this subject is ad- 
 mirably illustrated at the present period in California, where, in 
 general, five dollars will not procure so many of the staple 
 necessaries of life as one dollar will in the State of Ohio. Of 
 course, gold in California, at that rate, would be worth only 
 one-fifth what it is worth in Ohio, if it were to be used there in 
 procuring means for sustaining life and personal comfort. 
 
 Job was one of the richest men in ancient times. He was also 
 a magistrate, a judge at least, as appears from the twenty- 
 second chapter of the book bearing his name. And it is not 
 improbable he was a king ; not such as those now called kings, 
 but of dominions less extended and power less absolute, yet 
 possibly such as were denominated tings in the times of old, 
 and even at present in some portions of the Eastern world ; that 
 is, a kind of petty monarch and supreme governor within his own 
 
 Ambition is like love, impatient both of delays and rivals. 
 
closed in the bulb is expanded by heat, it neceBsarily forcea itself 
 
 250 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH 1 
 
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 territories, though perhaps of one city •with the suburbs, and 
 some few neighboring villages. He was said to be the greatest 
 of all the men of the East ; and he said of himself, that when 
 the princes and nobles came before him they held their peace, 
 and he sat chief among them, and dwelt as a king in the army. 
 It has been supposed that the modem sheiks of Arabia bear 
 resemblance to him. Yet the substance of Job was not silver 
 and gold — neither bank, nor insurance, nor government, nor 
 railroad stock ; but seven thousand sheep, three thousand cam- 
 els, one thousand yoke of oxen, and five hundred she-asses. 
 Similar to this also was the wealth of the patriarchs and rich 
 men mentioned in the early history of the Bible. They all had 
 their flocks and herds, and Abraham is also said to have had 
 silver and gold. 
 
 We are informed by Dr. Shaw that the principal riches of the 
 Bedouin Arabs continue^as with the princes and patriarchs -of 
 old, to be estimated from the number and quality of their cattle. 
 Several Arabian tribes can bring into the field only three or four 
 hundred horses, at the same time that they are possessed of 
 more than so many thousand camels, and triple again that num- 
 ber of sheep and black cattle. They rarely diminish their flocks 
 for their own food, Uving chiefly upon their milk or butter, or 
 else upon what they get in exchange for the wool. Dr. Russell 
 states, that the people of Aleppo are supplied with the greater 
 part of their butter, their cheese, and their cattle for slaugliter, 
 by the Arabs, Rushwans, or Turcomans, who travel about the 
 country with their flocks and their herds, as the patriarchs did 
 of old. The presumption is, that the patriarchs supplied the 
 ancient cities of Canaan, in like manner, with these things. 
 Hamor mentions their trading with his people. 
 
 The wealth of an agricultural community is substantially in 
 articles of corresponding character : lands, with their improve- 
 ments, houses, barns, and outbuildings ; farm implements and 
 utensils of every description, oftentimes amounting to one or 
 two thousand dollars ; horses, oxen, cows, swine, and sheep, 
 usually as susceptible of conversion into cash as merchandise or 
 bank capital ; and, especially, after harvest season, the varied 
 produce of the farm, not unfrequently, with large farmers, reach- 
 ing in value a sum but little imagined by those who have no 
 occasion to make an estimate. A few months since we visited 
 a farm having upon it hay of one year's growth, valued at one 
 thousand dollars. There are well-known instances where the 
 surplus of the above articles has been reduced to cash, for 
 investment, amounting to several thousand dollars. At this 
 moment one case is in mind, with which we are particularly 
 
 Charity, though ne'er so secret, finds a just reward. 
 
again. Make up your mind to do a thing, and you will do it, with 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH? 261 
 
 a 
 
 familiar, where a farmer commencing life poor, and having no 
 assistance, by the time of reaching the age of fifty-five years, 
 was able to purchase a farm every year, varying in cost from 
 six to ten thousand dollars, paying cash for it, and without re- 
 ceiving a dollar save from the produce of farms previously owned 
 and cultivated. Thousands have had results approximating to 
 this, if not equaling it. And, as there were no extraordinary 
 facilities and contingences attending it ; no extra talents ; and, 
 indeed, nothing but what is within the reach of the mass of 
 farmers, it shows conclusively what may be done, because it has 
 already been done. All the statistics might be given, but it is 
 sufficient to say that the farmer alluded to lived and died in 
 the county of Windham, State of Connecticut. Here the prom- 
 inent facts are widely different from those of merchants acquiring 
 great wealth, which usually, in the first acquisition, is the result 
 of- contingfences not happening to others, and which the same 
 individuals could not the second time appropriate to themselves. 
 The inquiry is a natural one, if such can be the profits of 
 agriculture, why they are not more frequently witnessed ? The 
 reply is not difficult, as may at fii'st appear. The profits of 
 agriculture in the aggregate are large. The fact cannot be 
 controverted. On them, and, as it were, nothing else, man is 
 supported. In this country, they sustain the life of more than 
 twenty millions. There is comparatively nothing else that can 
 sustain it. They feed him, and in connection with other labor, 
 they clothe him, they shelter him, and indeed they supply him 
 with all his real comforts. The proprietors of this description 
 of wealth are plain in their manners and in their dress ; they 
 expend it not in ostentatious display of useless finery and luxuri- 
 ous living ; but, after the necessary ends of it have been accom- 
 plished, they invest it in matters of utility for successive repro- 
 duction. While those in other Classes of the community, able 
 to command tlie means for it, are followed by a retinue of hired 
 attendants, farmers wait on themselves, both for economy and 
 health. While the former expend one thousand dollars annu- 
 ally in clothing a family, the latter uses only a fifth part of the 
 sum ; and, while the former make the entire expenditure for a 
 family, it may be, five thousand dollars, the families of the latter 
 are equally well supported, for all purposes of comfort, by the 
 use of one thousand each. Hence, as it has become so common 
 in modern society to judge of the existence of riches by tlie 
 amount of large expenditures in living, it is imagined that farm:^ 
 ers are poor because they live thus prudently ; because they 
 labor with their own hands, according to the design of the 
 Deity — a thing needful also for health ; and, because they- 
 
 Contentment givea a crown where fortune hath denied it. 
 
smoke and darkness. "Waste no good powder and shot on 
 
 262 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH? 
 
 a 
 
 :§ 
 
 spend what they earn — not in matters for other people to look 
 at, but in what conduces to their own comfort and happiness. 
 And if there could be a complete enumeration of all the farmers 
 of the country, estimated rich in their own respective localities, 
 the number would exceed credibility. The wealth of farmers 
 is not publicly seen ; it is not exposed, like merchandise, at the 
 windows and doors of shops and warehouses, to be observed by 
 those walking the streets. Hence, it is little known and appre- 
 ciated by any except themselves and their immediate friends 
 and neighbors. 
 
 But there is another consideratiofl in discussing this subject 
 not to be overlooked. It is important to premise what in 
 amount to an individual himself is deemed requisite in making 
 him rich. And it is affirmed, that if a man has means of his 
 own to supply all the wants of himself and family, he is essen- 
 tially a rich man. Why should he have more ? Now suppos- 
 ing a farmer in the country worth ten thousand dollars, living 
 completely from its income, all his family well fed and clothed, 
 and all contented, and still laying by a little annually, and a 
 merchant in the city worth fifty thousand dollars, but having a 
 style of living which absorbs the income of one hundred thou- 
 sand dollars, and of course is constantly dijninishing his princi- 
 pal, which of these two men deserves the name of being rich ? 
 One is increasing his property while the other is diminishing it ; 
 one is contented with what herhas and what he uses, while the 
 other is satisfied with nothing ; and above all, the children of 
 the one may be looked upon as candidates for high stations in 
 society, while in #11 probability the children of the other, or a 
 portion of them, will die paupers. And, the worst of all is, 
 that a family of children accustomed to the style of living which 
 exhausts the income of one hundred thousand dollars, will very 
 soon use up their respective portions of this estate, principal 
 and all, when it shall be divided among them. If it took that 
 sum to support one family, how can it support five or six fami- 
 lies, should they all be without other resources ? It often hap- 
 pens that the children of the rich never become able to support 
 themselves. They live on what was bequeathed to them, and 
 then are destitute. And on beginning the world with families 
 of their own, children are not accustomed to adopt a cheaper 
 style of living than their fathers maintained. If change is made, 
 the disposition is to increase and not diminish the expenditure. 
 
 It is admitted that the cases are numerous where farmers do 
 not add to the value of their property. They live year after 
 year and their domains are neither enlarged, or materially im- 
 proved in quality or commercial imnortance ; house and barn. 
 
 The kindness of a stranger often exceeds that pf a friend. 
 
it strongly. A spark may set a house on fire. A fit of 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH ! 253 
 
 
 P. 
 
 a 
 
 •a 
 
 si 
 
 f^ 
 
 and outbuildings, wear a stereotype appearance from the time 
 the children are born till they reach the stature of full life ; 
 their furniture and farm implements present no change, but of 
 natural decay, the unavoidable consequence of use ; the stock 
 is numerically and in kind essentially without new features ; 
 and their purses are as lank as their cows and their swine — the 
 same, on the appearance of gray hairs and furrowed cheeks, as 
 when clothed in their wedding garments. Why, it is asked, is 
 this so general, if it is easy for farmers to accumulate property 
 as well as to sustain life .' If the elements lie in the soil or 
 within the reach of those who cultivate it, why is it not gathered 
 up ; why does it remain there generation after generation un- 
 heeded — untouched — unappropriated ? For the same reason 
 that the gold dust of California, for aught we know, has been 
 permitted, till the year of light 5848, to remain where it was, 
 when the morning stars shouted forth their first anthem of 
 praise. The Yankees did not know it was there. Had they 
 known it, long since they would have crossed the continent on 
 stilts, had there been no other means of reaching it. So it has 
 been in regard to the acquisition of agricultural wealth. The 
 idea has been prevalent that all farmers have to do, or can do, 
 is to sustain life. Hence, beyond this they have no thought, 
 and make no effort. If they support their families in scanty 
 comfort, they are, apparently, satisfied, and aspire to nothing 
 else. With such views, other pursuits would be attended with 
 even less favorable results. In most cases a comfortable living 
 would fail of permanency. Destitution and pauperism would 
 speedily present their hideous front. 
 
 And, there are cases — very many of them — where farmers 
 work hard and aspire to something beyond a bare subsistence 
 for themselves and families ; where there is no lack of persever- 
 ing effort to accumulate ; but yet, success does not crown their 
 efforts. Among the reasons for failure, under such circum- 
 stances, we shall name the following, not with the elaboration 
 with which they might be treated, but in a manner to render 
 them susceptible of being understood. 
 
 Jfirst, farmers cannot expect to thrive or become rich, without 
 manuring their land. They may as well expect that their oxen 
 and horses will be strong to labor, that their cows will plenti- 
 fully give milk, and that their swine will increase in size and 
 grow fat without feed. One is as absurd as the other. Every 
 person acquainted with the nature of soils and the physiological 
 formation of vegetable life, knows that the earth needs being 
 fed as well as animals. The elements of production in the 
 animal and vegetable kingdoms are essentially the same. These 
 
 Generous minds are most subject to credulity. 
 
Let one kindoess be followed by another, till you havecom- 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 * 
 
 264 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH 
 
 elements, -which constitute the life and vigor of vegetation, sub- 
 sequently constitute the growth of 'animals ; and afterward 
 return again to the soil, to fertilize it for reproduction of the 
 same or kindred development. This, to a certain extent, is ad- 
 mitted by all ; but is not generally carried out in practice to its 
 legitimate extent. It requires no great experience to convince 
 any one, that the farmer vrho only half feeds his stock realizes 
 no more, perhaps, than half the profit realized by those who feed 
 it well. The person who feeds his cows amply and judiciously, 
 will be likely to obtain double the measure of milk of him who 
 feeds them sparingly, and with materials not adapted to their 
 wants. So the person who feeds his swine with what is suited 
 to their nature and the full and speedy production of their cor- 
 poral capabilities, will be likely to attain double the weight of 
 pork over him who feeds them sparingly, and without reference 
 to their physiological habits. And, in both cases, the increased 
 cost of the outlay is not twenty-five per cent, of the increased 
 amount of remuneration. Hence, it is clear, that one person in 
 raising stock may lose money ; may not get back the cost 6f 
 feed and other outlay ; while another person in raising stock 
 may make money — that is, their growth will far exceed the 
 cost of feed and all other charges. Here is one of the secrets 
 of getting rich by agriculture, and no one who disregards it 
 will thrive. 
 
 The profits of stock-raising are precisely analogous in princi- 
 ple to the remuneration from cultivating the soil, the amount 
 depending on the manner in which it has been fertilized. Ani- 
 mals may be over-fed ; or fed so injudiciously, that diminished 
 profits -will be realized. So in manuring the soil. But it is 
 clear the soil should have all the food it needs ; if deficient in 
 any particular ingredient requisite for a crop, it should be sup- 
 plied. If the farmer has not got it, he must procure it ; either 
 purchase it, or prepare it himself, for which, ordinarily, he has 
 on his premises ample materials. If he does this liberally — 
 skillfully — as he would feed his stock — he may not only get back, 
 in the time of harvest, a crop that will repay for this outlay — a 
 reasonable rent for the use of his land — for the labor he 
 bestowed upon it, but also a handsome profit. This is what 
 usually may be expected ; sometimes, indeed, drought or other 
 contingences may prevent. But if he neglect duly to manure 
 his land, he will be likely to get little or no pay, even for the 
 labor bestowed, and much less anything for the rent of the land. 
 Too often it is not considered that (he cultivation of an acre of 
 land which yields a hundred bushels of corn costs no more 
 than it would in yielding fifty bushels. The only dififerende in 
 
 A villain is most to be euppected when appearing most kind. 
 
has been my heart's undoing. Though wiBdoin oft has 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH I 255 
 
 i 
 
 .a 
 
 
 outlay is for manure. All the rest is clear profit. Thus, ordi- 
 narily, the well-cultivated and manured land will yield corn, not 
 costing above forty cents per bushel, while the corn raised on 
 land not well cultivated and manured will cost the owner, in 
 labor and otherwise, from sixty-five to seventy-five cents per 
 bushel. Analogous to this are animal products. If a cow is 
 made to produce three thousand quarts of milk in a year, the 
 cost to the owner will be only one cent per quart ; but if a cow 
 produce in that time only one thousand quarts, the cost to the 
 owner will be at least two cents per quart. Thus, one of these 
 cows will yield a profit to the owner of at least thirty dollars, 
 while the other barely pays^ the cost of keeping. So the hog 
 that is made to weigh four hundred pounds, may cost the owner, 
 it may be, four cents per pound, while the hog of the same age 
 that weighs only two hundred and fifty pounds, will cost five 
 cents per pound, at least. These estimates show expected, 
 results between a regard and a disregard of the particulars 
 under consideration ; and in view of them, there is no difficulty 
 in seeing how a farmer may get rich, and why so many fail to 
 become rich. 
 
 If a man were to attempt raising garden vegetables without 
 culture and manure, he would be denounced as a simpleton. 
 And why is not manure and good culture as needful in the field 
 as in the garden ? If in one case the outlay is repaid, so it 
 will be in the other case. Let this hint be carried into the en-' 
 tire cultivation of the farm, and the number of thrifty farmers 
 will be increased speedily. 
 
 Again, a farmer cannot expect to make his operations profit- 
 able if he attempt to cultivate too much land. Land has been 
 so abundant in this country, there has been a general tendency 
 to errors of this sort. The prevailing ambition has been to own 
 and cultivate large farms, rather than to raise as much as pos- 
 sible on a definite quantity of ground. The evil is two-fold : 
 the process is far more toilsome, and the ratio of the crop is 
 diminished. If a farmer desire to live as easy as consistent 
 with the design for a good harvest, and to reduce the cost of 
 the articles raised to the lowest possible point, he must culti- 
 vate no more land than can be thoroughly cultivated and am- 
 ply manured. This should be the problem first solved in 
 deciding how jnany acres he will bring under tillage. To say 
 he will devote so many acres to this thing, and so many acres 
 to that, simply because his neighbor does it, is to make plans 
 in a manner that will end in disgrace and loss, if not in com- 
 plete ruin. A merchant might as well feel pride in giving out 
 large notes on time, because another did it, without consider- 
 
 Experience and common cense make the best counselor. 
 
the woes the very poor must bear ; you do not see the silent 
 
 256 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH '. 
 
 ing whether he would have the means for paying them at 
 maturity or not. Suppose he should not ; or, that it be found, 
 on examining the operations on which they were based, that 
 they were attended with loss, would he be judged a skilful 
 manager in business ? Surely not. A succession of such oper- 
 ations would make him a bankrupt. A farmer that projects 
 his operations in a similar way, will always be poor. If he 
 fancy he can become rich thereby, he sadly deceives himself. 
 His hopes will all be delusions. He will always be compara- 
 tively poor ; his crops will cost him more than "they are worth ; 
 and what is even worse, he will unnecessarily exhaust his 
 strength and destroy his health by severe toil. 
 
 If a farmer is inclined to indulge a rational pride or ambi- 
 tion in his agricultural pursuits, there is ample opportunity for 
 it. Let it be done in raising as much as possible on an acre ; 
 jn making his produce, after reckoning the cost of labor, ground 
 rent, and other outlays, cost the least possible per centage on 
 its commercial value ; and then, in summing up the actual profits 
 on a certain number of acres, after having deducted every 
 item of expense devoted to the culture. If a farmer can feel 
 certain that he has raised in a season, on ten acres of land, 
 double what his neighbors generally raised on the same num- 
 ber of acres — or, that he raised more on ten acres than some 
 of them raised on twenty acres, and without working as hard 
 as they did — of this he may well feel proud, of this he may jus- 
 tifiably make proclamation, and this he may hold up for the 
 imitation of others. This is a result of intrinsic value to himself, 
 and may be made of value to the community. Let him teach 
 others to do the same, and he will become a public benefactor 
 to society. In this way he elevates the character of his com- 
 peers ; gives respectability and dignity to agricultural occupa- 
 tion; and, above all, enables poor farmers to live a hundred 
 per cent, easier and better than before. This is the object of 
 agricultural societies, and a most laudable object, too. It would 
 be well if every farmer were a member of one of these socie- 
 ties. The trifling tax paid for membership is used in the pro- 
 motion of objects like this. An individual who attends the 
 annual fairs, and reads agricultural papers detailing the impro\e- 
 ments in husbandry, must be stupid indeed if he cannot thereby 
 acquire knowledge that will be worth to him, in the cultivation 
 of his farm, five times what this knowledge costs him. 
 
 A_ farmer ought always to keep in mind the commercial value 
 of his farm, in reference to the getting from it a rent in its use 
 fully equal to the interest of the sum for which it mio-ht be 
 sold. It is not essential whether this rent be received in cash 
 
 Men's evil manners live in brass — their virtues we write in water. 
 
hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; king of two hands, he does 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH ? 257 
 
 
 ^•i 
 
 a, 
 I 
 
 oa 
 
 from his surplus produce, or exist in substantial improvements on 
 the premises. They must be obtained and exist somewhere or 
 other, or he is doing a losing business. Suppose a capitalist 
 should put his cash into stocks that paid no interest ! Would 
 a wise man do it ? Could he sustain himself in doing it ? Or 
 suppose an administrator should so invest the property of or- 
 phan children, what would be thought of his business talents ? 
 Would our ol-phan courts tolerate him in such mismanagement ? 
 Surely not ! Yet, this is no more unbusiness-like than for a 
 farmer to fail of getting a corresponding equivalent for the use 
 of lands. If he obtains this equivalent, he acts prudently ; 
 is probably in a thriving condition ; and, unless he does obtain 
 it, can never be expected to grow rich. And, moreover, on 
 the score of pecuniary emolument, he had better sell his 
 farm, put the money at interest, and work for others as a day- 
 laborer. 
 
 But the question arises in a more tangible form, although 
 already implied in previous remarks, how is he to get this rent 
 for his land ? The process is simple. It is to come from his 
 crops. They must be sufficient to pay for the labor bestowed 
 upon them, and for every other outlay on their acoaunt, and 
 then to leave a surplus for the rent of the land, and, if the pro- 
 prietor is improving his circumstances, for a clear profit besides. 
 Again, it is asked, how he can obtain crops that will do this ? 
 It is by cultivating his farm in such a way that the commercial 
 value of his crops somewhere about doubles the cost of labor 
 devoted to them ; and this is achieved by raising a large quan- 
 tity to an acre, let the crop be of whatever kind it may, whether 
 Indian corn, potatoes, turnips, oats, or wheat. It is too clear to 
 require elucidation, that if one raises as much wheat or turnips 
 on one acre of land as his neighbor raises on two acres, that the 
 crop of the former to the bushel, after deducting for seed and 
 manure, will stand only about half the cost of the crop of the 
 latter. This should never be forgotten. This is the key that 
 unlocks the treasures of agricultural wealth. Suppose the 
 merchant should, in the purchase of wheat, pay more than it is 
 worth in the market, and thence have to sell it not only without 
 profit, but, in reality, for less than the sum paid for it, what 
 would be thought of his financial skill ? Would that merchant 
 grow rich ? No ! if this is a fair ' sample of his operations, he 
 would become a bankrupt. The case is not unlike that of the 
 farmer who makes his wheat crop cost above its commercial 
 value. One is no more absurd and unbusiness-like than the 
 other. In both cases the transaction is ruinous. The only dif- 
 ference is, the one pays for the wheat in cash, and the other 
 
 They who forgive most shall be most forgiven. 
 
being rich atid great ; toil only gives the soil to shine, 
 
 258 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 pays for it ia labor ; but it is not to be overlooked that this 
 labor either cost him cash, or is equivalent to it. 
 
 Here the incredulous farmer interposes an interrogatory — 
 How shall I get this double crop, costing only half as much per 
 bushel as my crops heretofore have cost ? By cultivating less 
 land and manuring it more highly, so that an acre will require 
 less labor than heretofore bestowed upon it, and produce double. 
 Make it rich and mellow, comparatively hke a garden. It is 
 not often realized, that with such culture, it takes only a small 
 piece of ground to raise what is sufficient, at customary prices, 
 to support a family. On an acre may be raised a thousand 
 bushels of carrots, and about ten thousand heads of cabbage ; 
 each of which would be worth from three to four hundred dol- 
 lars^ in a fair market ; and we could give statistics of a five 
 acre fiel* c^ Indian corn which produced a crop sufficient to 
 •Cancel all the expenditures upon it, to pay for the land itself 
 at thirty dollars per acre, and then leaving the land in a far 
 better condition than it was before. 
 
 If a farmer has manure and other capital to cultivate a large 
 farm in the manner described, he may do it ; the larger his 
 farm, the greater will be the profits. A large agricultural cap- 
 italist may advantageously cultivate a dozen farms. But if his 
 capital is the result of his own agricultural labor, he must have 
 commenced in a small way ; by cultivating a small farm ; and 
 then from his annual profits made additions, as he became able, 
 to his programme of culture. This is the only way a small 
 farmer can become a large one. To undertake doing it instan- 
 ter, would be like the retailer of needlee, pins, tapes, and'candy, 
 in a small store, who thus is able to support his family and lay 
 by, annually, a hundred dollars, to attempt of a sudden to 
 become, a large merchant, and send a ship to Canton to bring 
 back a rich cargo of teas. Growth in business, in agriculture, 
 as well as in everything else, is. ordinarily gradual, like the veg- 
 etable kingdom or the animal structure. It is not in aoeordance 
 with the economy of nature that full-grown forms should suc- 
 cessively rise before us in all their perfection, as if produced 
 by the wand of enchantment. In nature, all development is 
 progressive ; and so should be human progress, whether in 
 knowledge, or wealth, or the control of those agencies giving 
 life and vigor to huttian institdtions. 
 
 To own more land thap can be cultivated, or cultivated well, is 
 not only so much dead capital: — capital paying no interest — but the 
 cost of fencing it, and paying taxes for it, will keep a poor farmer 
 forever poor. This, added to-lost labor in cultivating more acres 
 than can be properly cultivated, would be sufficient of itself to 
 
 Old friends, like old swords, are still trusted best. 
 
tone ot a voice from tbis world gone ; eapfiTs, in ir hose 
 
 HOW CAN A FARMER BECOME RICH J 459 
 
 1 
 
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 •H 
 
 shew ■wily so mdny farftiefrs do not become easy in their circum- 
 stances. Similar to this in character is the hiring oi owning a 
 larger bonse than is wanted for use. Thire is loss in reat, or 
 interest oa money invested. Then there is loss on unnecessary 
 furniture. Empty rooms 'Would look deplorably desolate. To 
 this must be added augmented annual repairs beyond what 
 would be necessary on buildings of suitable dimensions ; and, 
 above all, the daily labor in keeping the Whole in a clean and 
 comely condition. A person, to prosper, had better own no 
 more land than wanted for culture and grazing ; should culti- 
 vate no more than can be well cultivated ; and should have no 
 outlay in useless houseroom, or furniture, or carriages, or horses, 
 or worthless fixtures of any kind. 
 
 Again, a farmer, to prosper, must be under no necessity of 
 wasting time in small incidental matters. He should have tools 
 and farm implements to do whatever is needed in his labors. 
 It is miserable economy to do work by hand with a spade or 
 hoe, which can be done by a horse and plough, simply for the 
 want of a plough. The cost of the latter is not the fourth 
 part of the former. So it is miserable economy to use an old 
 worn-out ploughshare, instead of spending a few shillings in 
 purchasing a new one ; or in ^sing old worn-down harrow-teeth, 
 instead of paying the blasksmith for repointing them. So it is 
 in using a dull axe or any other tool, instead of spending time 
 to sharpen it. So it is, every now and then, in spending half a 
 day in going to a mechanic for some little job or repair, which 
 might be done by himself in fifteen minutes, if he would spend 
 five or ten dollars in tools needed every week. A farmer is 
 never to forget tliat his time is money ; and a prodigality in the 
 use of the one, as well as in the use of the other, will forever 
 hinder thrift and prosperity. At some seasons of the year 
 time is inuch more valuable than at other seasons. When the 
 least valuable, it should be appropriated to those things which 
 may be done at one period as well as another ; and the whole 
 of the most valuable portion of it will then be held for such 
 offices as must be done without delay. 
 
 It is generally desirable that every article be produced on a 
 farm wanted for consumption' on it. But whatever can be 
 raised not required for consumption on it, should be in such 
 crops as will yield to the producer the best profits. It is well 
 known that some afford better profits than others; and each 
 farmer should make it a matter of deliberate calculation to select 
 the former. la a course of years, much in this way will be 
 gained. Also, in the- raising of stock, preference should be 
 scrupulously givea to the best kinds. It costs no more to feed 
 
 Angela from friendship gather half their joy. 
 
good company t To walk together to tbe kirk, and all together 
 
 I 
 
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 260 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 them than others; and, when oflFered for sale, they -will always 
 command better prices. The idea i& preposterous that no mate- 
 rial diflFerence exists between those of the same species. There 
 is as much diflference between them as between an African 
 negro and an American Indian. The mere distinctive attributes 
 of a species is no proof that all the individuals of it possess 
 equal points of excellence. This remark applies to horses, to 
 oxen, to cows, and to swine. 
 
 Riches, like insects, while conceal'd thej lie. 
 Wait but for wings, and in their season fly ; 
 To whom can riches give repute and trust, 
 Content or pleasure, but the good and just i 
 Judges and senates hare been bought for gda. 
 Esteem and love are never to be sold. 
 
 HINTS EESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 What can I do more ? 
 I wam'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold 
 The danger, and the lurking enemy 
 That lay in wait ; beyond this had been force. 
 And force upon free will hath here no place. 
 
 There are but few things, in rural life especially, attended 
 with more perplexity than the employment and treatment of 
 hired laborers, whether male or female, but more especially the 
 former. In the city it is less so, for there changes are more 
 conveniently made, and are, as it were, commonplace piatters, 
 of almost every-day occurrence. In the country it is not so. 
 Here changes are attended with inconvenience, and sometimes 
 with expense. Perhaps, also, when made, a greater evil is cre- 
 ated than the one avoided, which frequently renders the endur- 
 ing of evils of the sort too great to be endured, less to be 
 dreaded than renewed efforts to get rid of them. Depending 
 on the class of laborers mostly at command, it is not, indeed, 
 surprising, that where we find one individual just as we would' 
 desire, we encounter a dozen nearly as unlike what we desire 
 
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 Virtue is bold, and goodness is never timid. 
 
eight, contrasting with the deep-blue Bkyl In grateful silence earth 
 
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 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 as daylight is unlike darkness. Instead of intelligence, we find 
 ignorance and stupidity. And instead of fidelity, we find the 
 most unprincipled cases of constructive dishonesty and ingrat- 
 itude. The disappointments thus experienced, relate both to 
 the perforpiance of tlie duties required, and to circumstances 
 of a social and domestic character. 
 
 Did we know less of human nature than experience has taught 
 i^s, we should suppose, that when we receive persons for com- 
 fortable maintenance and. useful occupation, from the lowest 
 grades of human destitution and wretchedness, there would be 
 manifested a feeling of gratitude, and a systematic regard to 
 our interests. Sometimes it may be so ; but far more frequently 
 we should be ridiculed for our credulity if we expected any- 
 thing of the kind, Man, even in his best condition, is some- 
 times called a paradox ; but in his Worst condition, he is the 
 climax of paradox — the very essence of whjit he should not be. 
 Those who are fortunate enough not to need any help perma- 
 nently, except that furnished by their own families, are relieved 
 from the perplexities of which we are speaking. 
 
 The apprehension is not without foundation, that these evils 
 are receiving new types of a most unfavorable character. Prin- 
 ciples aflfecting our most essential organizations are advocated 
 with a zeal which should be exerted in a better cause. All the 
 distinctions in the social relations of life have become topics of 
 animadversion, and there is a manifest approximation in the 
 minds of the laboring classes, not only to denounce them as 
 evils repugnant to the spirit of our institutions, but to array the 
 poor against the rich ; and equally so the hired laborers against 
 those who give them employment. The consequence is, that 
 the former esteem themselves an oppressed and degraded class 
 of the community, and cherish feeUngs of unkindness, to say the 
 least, and oftentimes of decided hostility to the latter. Where 
 this becomes a prevailing habit of their minds, the tendency is 
 to vitiate, sooner or later, whatever principle^ of integrity and 
 fidelity they may originally have possessed. The full develop- 
 ment of this tendency is to exercise no regard for the interest of 
 employers, beyond what is necessary for retaining their situa- 
 tions. Indeed, the smallest amount of labor that can be per- 
 formed, without putting in jeopardy their own wages and emol- 
 uments, becomes the ultimate rule of their guidance. The 
 preservation of property gives them no feelings of sohcitude, 
 any further than they are held responsible for it ; and when 
 wasted or lost, they manifest no regret, unless personally iden- 
 tified in its destruction. 
 
 We do not say this is true of all hired laborers. We only 
 
 It is a joy to think the best we can of human kind. 
 
is compelled to work cures not how badly it is performed. 5^ 
 
 262 HJf^T? JRESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 I 
 
 ■9 
 
 % 
 
 I 
 
 intend to say that such is the tendency of thosfe radical views 
 wiiich.are diisseminated most industriously by tiiose who claim 
 \o be exclusively the friends of the laboring classes. No doubt 
 there ^re many honorable exceptions; that there are many who 
 have not "become the victims of these demoralizing sentiments. 
 Others may have partially acceded to them, but still are gov- 
 erned more or less by other and better maxims. It is not, we 
 hope, of rare occurrence, among the ten thousands, and the 
 hundreds of thousands scattered over our country as hired 
 laborers with our honest yeomanry, that we find persons of the 
 most perfect honesty and fidelity ; who would no sooner do, or 
 see injustice done to their employees, than to themselves. We 
 have been fortunate enough to witness Such honorSLble instances , 
 of moral principle. 
 
 Nevertheless, the cases of decided unfaithfulness that are 
 known to Jiave existed; the corrupting dogmas that are so 
 extensively inculcated; and the popular tendency among the 
 laboring classes to fall under their influence, leads those under 
 the necessity of giving employmetit, to entertain a general sus- 
 picion concerning all ; and to watch witli the utmost vigilance 
 thosp who linay not, perhaps, require it. Nor is this all : the 
 apprehension that we may have in our employment, and in our 
 houses, persons who are dishonest and unfaithful, is of itself 
 the most repugnant to our feelings ; for there is nothing that 
 adds more to our quiet and compladency than to think well of 
 every one about us ; and there is, on the other hand, nothing 
 that so much annoys us, and that so much diminishes our com- 
 posure, as the idea that we are constantly liable to loss from 
 those about us. Nor does the evil end here ; thus to treat with 
 distrust, if nOt with a want of kindness, such as may, in reality, 
 deserve our confidence, is calculated, so far as they are aware 
 of it, to discourage, if not to grieve them, and perhaps, in the : 
 end, to reUx their moral code. And the difficulty is increased ! 
 still further from the fact, that it is far from being easy to en- 
 lighten persons so proverbially wanting in aptitude to compre- 
 hend matters of the sort ; for instead of enlightening, their 
 jealousy and obtuseness of intellect might lead to an increase 
 rather than a diminution of the evil. 
 
 It is certainly one of the most desirable considerations rela- 
 ting to the subject, that we overcome, as far as possible, this 
 prevailiflg want oif confidence on either side. If laborers cati 
 b(B made to believe that we are their friends, so fur as they per- 
 form faithfully their duty, thus placing confidence in their em- 
 ployers, a very important point toward securing their fidelity is 
 secured. How far kind and parental treatment will be effectual 
 
 01 fleetiqgjoya of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes 1 
 
thoughts win their way everywhere. The cup that is full 
 
 3 
 
 o 
 
 •a 
 
 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 263 
 
 in doing this, each one's own experience will assure him, if he 
 has directed his attention to this particular view of th« subject. 
 The effort, we well know, may not always be a;()preoiated or 
 deserved ; and, if many times remunerated with, such ingrat- 
 itude, the natural consequence is tliat we shall be more cautious 
 in future similar attempts for promoting this species of moral 
 reform. Justifiable as it may be in us to shrink from the labor 
 and the responsibility of improving the condition of a class of 
 persons so insensible to kindness and so prone to misinterpret 
 the best of intentions, it is not by any means to be forgotten 
 that we should never be weary in well-doing, and that great 
 allowance is ever to be made for persons whose mental culture 
 must have been the most deficient. 
 
 We have no doubt it would ultimately be for the benefit of 
 laborers, as a class, if a rule were adopted by those who give 
 employment, requiring the highest grade of character of which 
 they are susceptible. This rule should make it indispensable, in 
 order to employment, that the applicant be free from every 
 species of gross immorality ; to wit, intemperance, lying, and 
 all kinds of dishonesty. The applicant should be required to 
 pledge himself in regard to the total disuse of all intoxicating 
 drink ; and be expressly assured, that on violation of that 
 pledge, ox on being found guilty of lying or deception, of the 
 habitual use of profane language, of neglect of any known 
 duty, or of prompt regard to the interest of his employer, he 
 would be immediately discharged. Let all farmers hiring 
 laborers do this. Let discharges be prompt whenever deserved, 
 let the case be made known in the neighborhood, and very 
 soon cases of breach of trust, of neglect of duty, of intemper- 
 ance, and other immoralitias and misdemeanors, would be of 
 rare occurrence. All would stand upon their own character ; 
 as a body, they would occupy a higher grade in the community ; 
 and if any were irrevocably perverse, they would be obliged to 
 depart, leaving all the others, without liability to contamination 
 from contact with them. There is no doubt it would, indeed, 
 be a kindness to these persons to adopt a rigid course of man- 
 ao-ement in reference to the particulars mentioned. Occasion- 
 ally, to be sure, we might suffer a temporary inconvenience 
 from suddenly discharging a man from our employ under these 
 circumstances ; but, in the end, it would be the means of saving 
 a vast amount of trouble ; inasmuch as it would elevate the 
 moral position of these persons, so that delinquencies hereafter 
 would rarely manifest themselves. 
 
 It is easy to imagine some of the most prominent beneficial" 
 effects from this elevation of character. When the employer is 
 
 B' 
 
 Eindness in women, not their beauteous looks, shall win the heart. 
 
dead, thereby keeping thfe needed sun's rays from, the lower 
 
 .a 
 
 
 ■3 
 
 264 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 enabled to feel full confidence in the fidelity of his laboreirs — 
 fidelity to his interests and wishes, and not less to the requi- 
 sitions respecting their own moral purity in all its varieties, he 
 will be exercised for them with . considerations of brotherhood. 
 If they are lonely — away from all relatives and friends, he will 
 sympathize with them. If they are feeble or sick, he will 
 cause their necessities to be regarded. If they become greatly 
 wearied from severe labor, he will search out all possible allevi- 
 ations for them, and will address them in language of approving 
 kindness. And as an equivalent for any voluntary excess of 
 labor, let them, at a convenient season, have some relaxations 
 from duty,, and the allowance of some indulgences which they 
 had no right to expect. Such expressions of approbation would 
 very soon be esteemed more than an equivalent for any severity 
 of regimen they may have endured, because there will be, it is 
 hoped, on their part, a growing apprehension that their inter- 
 ests and comforts have never been overlooked. 
 
 It is a very great error to be constantly finding fault with 
 hired laborers, "whether male or female, even if they deserve it. 
 This creates the worst feelings, and frequently leads to habitual 
 moroseness of temper, obstinacy, and negligence. It is far bet- 
 ter, as » general thing, to have it appear that the faults which 
 require animadversion, unless very gross, were not observed, 
 especially at the moment of their occurrence. They may have 
 been the result of some perplexity on their part, of which we 
 were ignorani;, and which, had we known it, might be, in our 
 estimation, a partial excuse, at least. It is never to be forgotten 
 that hired laborers, in the house and on the farm, in the per- 
 formance of their duties, may have such perplexities as we expe- 
 rience ourselves. When we do experience them, we need not be 
 informed that our mental equilibrium is not unfrequently dis- 
 turbed. And if we, with our better moral and intellectual cul- 
 ture, lose our temper, when we take hold of the wrong end 
 instead of the right end of a thing, or otherwi^ experience vex- 
 ations in the routine of our own personal labors, it ought not to 
 be imagined strange that they should do it. The consequence 
 is, they are out of humor, which leads them almost as a mat- 
 ter of course to get hold of something else wrong end first ; and 
 so on, no one can tell how long. They manifest, in this general 
 disorder of the feelings, ill-nature, and perhaps impudence to us, 
 espfSally if we undertake, at the moment, to censure them for 
 it-plie same as a mad dog will bite whatever comes in his way. 
 If^ap'the house, the doors may be slammed — the tables or the 
 chairs may be turned over ' if out of doors, a hoe, or a shovel, or 
 a rake may be thrown aSide with so much violence as to be 
 
 What have kings that privates have not too, save ceremony! 
 
the manure; and perhaps two-thirds of the labor, on half 
 
 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 265 
 
 broken. Now, how much does this differ, in essence, from what 
 we may have done ourselves, when we weV-e tempted in like 
 manner ? 
 
 But some one may ask, if nothing is to be done in such cases ? 
 if no reproof is to be administered for such outbreaks of temper ? 
 The case is undoubtedly to be met. But wait till the offender 
 has had time to reflect ; to become ashamed of it ; and, if pos- 
 sessed of good moral feelings, penitent for it. Reader, if you 
 have a horse that has been badly frightened, or is in a panic of 
 furor, would you take him then in order to break him ; or would 
 you wait till he becomes calm and docile ? Any sensible person 
 would do the latter. Why not, then, do the same with a fel- 
 low-creature ? The philosophy in both cases is similar. Or 
 suppose you discover a leakage in your house in the midst of a 
 heavy fall of rain — the same as frequently noticed before — which 
 would be best, to go out at the moment to stop the leakage, or 
 to put a mark on the spot, and then in the first fair weather to 
 stop it ? If the former were attempted, the probability is the 
 work would not be done well ; that you would get wet in the 
 rain ; take cold ; make yourself sick ; in reality, cause more 
 injury to yourself and property than the rain would have caused ; 
 whereas, by waiting till fair weather, the labor would be but a 
 mere trifle, and then the work would be well done. Or suppose, 
 in a violent gale of wind, you look through the window and per- 
 ceive that the weather-cock is indulging some wild freak, and 
 does not turh round and do its appropriate duty, would you go 
 immediately out, take your ladder, ascend the pole, and attempt 
 to put it in order ? The chance is, the wind would deposit you, 
 and the ladder, and the weather-cock, and the pole, in joint co- 
 partnership, amidst the mud beneath ; whereas, if you were to 
 have waited for the violence of the wind to have passed, this 
 meteorological tell-tale would have been put in first-rate trim, 
 without hazard, and in a few minutes. The man or the woman 
 that does not know that it is ordinarily as unwise to encounter 
 a tempest of human passion, as it is to encounter a whirlwind, 
 knows but little of human nature, and is but miserably qualified 
 to direct the movements of other persons. 
 
 We have also obligations of another description to perform to 
 the persons in our employment. Paying them their wages and 
 furnishing them with suitable food, according as it may have 
 been agreed, is only a portion of these obligations. They are 
 under a kind of tutelage to us. They are, or may be, citizens 
 of the same republic. They may, and probably will, become 
 heads of families. They may be our immediate neighbors for 
 life ; or, if not neighbors to us, will be to some one else. Hence 
 
 Be wise in speed ; a fool at forty m a fool indeed ! 
 
much sooner than by paying any particular couit to 
 
 266 
 
 HINTS RESPECTING HIRED LABORERS. 
 
 V 
 
 a 
 
 M 
 
 it will be seen, that they will be in a position to understand the 
 relations and the responsibilities of the conjugal and social, as 
 well as the political organizations of the country. Nor is it a 
 concealed fact, how deficient many of that class of persons 'are 
 in all these matters. It is of immense importance to the coun- 
 try, as well as to themselves, that they be duly enlightened and 
 impressed with the nature of these institutions. And, it is un- 
 doubtedly in the power of every individual, who gives eiUploy- 
 ment to them, to do something in relation to their obtaining- just 
 conceptions of the proper duties of husbands, of wives, of pa- 
 rents, of neighbors, and not less of American citizens, in reference 
 to the elective franchise. 
 
 As already remarked, it is extremely diflScult to reach persoivs 
 on such subjects, who are so little familiarized to our modes of 
 address ; and, especially, when they are deficient in that confi- 
 dence in our friendship always necessary, if we would do them 
 essential benefit. Nevertheless, if we cannot accomplish all we 
 would like to accomplish, we may accomplish something of it. 
 If we cannot reach every individual, we may approach, we may 
 reach here and there one. If we cannot enable them to com- 
 prehend everything we seek to impart, they may comprehend a 
 portion of it. Hints may be thrown out to them, from time- to 
 time, touching all these particulars, and in the aggregate a vast 
 amount of good may be done. They may receive from us in 
 this way an incalculable amount of benefit. Among other things, 
 they may learn much how to use money, as well as to earn it. 
 They may learn how to be in a position to share in the respect, and 
 esteem, and confidence that pervade all well-organized societies. 
 It is not easy to imagine the amount of good that might, in this 
 way, be aobieved for the community, if all who give employ- 
 ment to others were to view the subject as it might, and as It 
 ought to be viewed. 
 
 Again : There is still another aspect in which a responsibility 
 presents itself to every reflecting mind with impressive elo- 
 quence. It should never be forgotten that we are in a land of 
 vicissitude ; in a land where there are no hereditary exemptions 
 from poverty and social degradation ; and where there are no 
 insuperable obstacles to prevent the poorest and the most igno- 
 rant from rising to the liighest elevations of which our institu- 
 tions admit. As little as we may be inclined to make particular 
 applications of such an hypothesis, so far as we or our own fami- 
 lies may be the losers, the possibility of them cannot be denied. 
 And, some of the very individuals we may now hire to assist us 
 in the cultivation of our farms, in the course of years may be- 
 come the owners of them ; and, our sons or our grandsons may 
 
 The dust we tread upon was once alive and wretched. 
 
has no more respect for kings than for their subjects ; she mocks them, 
 
 A FALL THANKS&IVING IK THE COUNTRY. 267 
 
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 a 
 
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 a 
 □ 
 
 I 
 
 S 
 
 S 
 
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 be servants to them or to other persons, the same as they now 
 are to us. No better rule, therefore, can be adopted for the 
 treatmeijt they receive at our hands, than that it be such as we 
 would like for the treatment to be shown to our own kindred, 
 under the reverse of circumstances we have supposed. Such 
 a rule, in all c^ses, will be an excellent one for the guidance of 
 all ; apd, if in universal practice, much of the existing evil and 
 discontent would be banished from the world. 
 
 What happiness the rural maid attends, 
 In cheerful labor, while each day she spends 1 
 She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent, 
 And, rich in poverty, enjoys content. 
 She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains. 
 Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ; 
 She never loses life in thoughtless ease, 
 Nor on the velvet couch invites disease ; 
 Her homespun 4' ess. in simple neatness lies, 
 And for no glaring equipage she sighs ; 
 No midnight mastjuerade her beauty wears. 
 And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 The feast is such as earth, the general mother. 
 Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles 
 In the embrace of autumn. To each other, 
 As some fond parent fondly reconciles 
 Her waning children, she their wrath beguiles 
 With their own sustenance ; they, relenting, weep. 
 
 The annual festival, which we call Thanksgiving, has had an 
 increasing popularity fi-om its first establishment. For a kiqg 
 period it was mostly confined to New England ; but, although 
 the mode of observance has greatly changed, its public recog- 
 nition is now much extended. In time, it may be observed m 
 every state in the Union. The ostensible design of it was to 
 render, in the season of autumn, a general and united expression 
 
 We live in deeds, not years— in tbonghts, not breaths. 
 
thou canst not even stand by thyself. Unsupported by 
 
 268 A PALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 .3 
 
 s* 
 
 W 
 O 
 
 of gratitude to the Supreme Being, for the fruits of the earth ; 
 and in connection with this, a tribute of thanksgiving for health, 
 civil and religious liberty, and for every kind of prosperity. 
 The circumstances attending the first settlement of our country, 
 particularly in New England, demanded such demonstration ; 
 for never was there a people which experienced more unequivo- 
 cal interposition of Divine Providence in their favor. If mor- 
 tals ever felt as if completely forsaken of Heaven, they at times, 
 seemingly, had occasion so to feel. Sickness, and death, and 
 savage cruelty, and apparent starvation were among the calam- 
 ities under which they struggled ; yet, in the end, they were 
 relieved beyond the imaginings of human wisdom, and beyond 
 the agency of human might. To them a Christian faith was 
 the strong arm which inspired confidence ; and in its conquests 
 enabled them to rejoice. 
 
 Our first New England ancestor^ were hence accustomed to 
 refer every event in their life to the Divine agency ; and their 
 characters were accoi'dingly imbued most thoroughly with 
 religious feeling. Whenever afflicted, they gave themselves up 
 to humiliation and penitence ; and, if prosperity sent her smiles 
 upon them, they were no less prompt in united and public ex- 
 pressions of homage. Had such not been the fact, they would 
 assuredly have been vastly destitute of those sympathies which 
 seem interw.oven in our nature. If scenes like those through 
 which they passed inspire not religious emotion, what can do 
 it ? The providential discipline which seemingly made the 
 entire network of their history, was evidently designed to pro- 
 duce a high grade of moral culture. The destiny which awaited 
 them in giving birth to a nation of unrivaled energy and effi- 
 ciency in revolutionizing the world, made this necessary. It 
 was one of the grand purposes of infinite wisdom, which, in 
 producing sublime results, always provides the requisite instru- 
 mentalities. To human appearance, those individuals might have 
 been viewed with contempt and derision. Thus they doubtless 
 were viewed by those at that day occupying the high places of 
 society. Not thus, however, were they viewed by Him who 
 holds and directs all the nations of the earth as if atoms of 
 dust. 
 
 If any class of people have especial occasion to participate 
 in the religious festivities of the Autumnal Thanksgiving, it is a 
 rural population ; for it is primarily designed to commemorate 
 the completion of the agricultural year, with all its incidents, its 
 toils, its hopes, and its rewards. If any class of people are, as 
 it were, instinctively led to realize that God alone gives success 
 to human exertions, farmers are that class. They are constantly 
 
 He Uvea most, who thinlrs most — feels the noblest— acta the best. 
 
unkpown abode 8 Alas, ehe is traveling incognito to 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 269 
 
 :.9 
 
 a 
 
 s> 
 
 
 taught that his age&cy pervades and animates the whole range 
 of nature ; that, if they till the ground, and plant the seed. He 
 alone can cause an abundant harvest. Nor are they dependent 
 for this teaching on lectures, or sermons, or books. It is not 
 the result of any didaclic speculations. Very far from it ! The 
 bright rays of the sun-r-the descending showers — ^the floating 
 zephyrs — the bending forests — the waving fields of grain — the 
 opening flowers — the ripening fruits — and, not less, the numer- 
 ous flocks and herds, are all emphatic and impressive teachers 
 of the Divinity which fills all space. Here is a ceaseless round 
 of moral suasion, adapted to the comprehension of the young 
 and the old — the wise and the ignorant — a suasion always fresh, 
 morning, noon, and night ; and, from the influence of which, it 
 might seem, no ruralist can abstract himself. Farmers, there- 
 fore, of all others, are the most inclined, on the completion of 
 an annual harvest, to make public and united thanksgiving to 
 the Being who rewards their labor with the rich and diversified 
 products of the earth. 
 
 It is to be regretted that the original design of the autumnal ^ 
 Thanksgiving has been kept no more distinct and prdminent. It 
 is a fact that cannot be concealed or denied, that its obseiTance 
 has materially degenerated into a lifeless form. Do we witness 
 that dense crowd in the house of God, and that glowing fervor 
 manifest in the days of our fathers? Business may be sus- 
 pended, but, to a lamentable degree, the day is one of recreation 
 rather than of Christian worship. Else, why on that morn is 
 the church-going bell so little heeded ? Why is the Sunday 
 costume so little removed from the wardrobe ? Why are so 
 many pews without tenants ? If the heart of the people were 
 swelling with gratitude, would the visible forms inhabited by it 
 be thus away ? Why are families, each in groups by them- 
 selves, wending their way so rarely to the Christian temple, in 
 obedience to the proclamation of the civil magistrate? No 
 commentary is needed on such an exposition of facts. The 
 conclusion is irresistible. It cannot be evaded. It inscribes its 
 own moral. 
 
 Besides the religious feature of the autumnal Thanksgiving, 
 and for which it was designed, there has been, particularly in 
 New England, an incidental one, in accordance with the dear- 
 est impulses of the human heart. If the religious feature 
 should be even more obscured than it now is, it were to be 
 hoped, on account of the incidental one, the institution may be 
 perpetual. We allude to its social family mfluence. It was 
 formerly made the . occasion for perpetuating in undying fresh- 
 ness family alliances and fanjily reminiscences. Families were 
 
 Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make poor females mad. 
 
flying, and refilseto eat hia dinner, because it was not ushered in 
 
 270 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 bo 
 
 &to 
 
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 IS 
 
 ^ 
 
 thus kept as distinct and complete as were the separate tribes of 
 ancient Israel. The occasion was to be one of feasting as well as 
 of Christian worship ; of good-will to man as well as of thstnks- 
 giving to God. In the Church alms were to be presented for 
 the poor, as a token of gratitude ; and they were not to be for- 
 gotten when dividing the abundance of the family board. And 
 around this board were to be gathered all the family alliances 
 of the household, of whatever generation they may belong, and 
 however much they may have been scattered abroad ; children, 
 and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, if any there were, 
 on the anniversary of Thanksgiving, were to re-assemble in 
 filial love around the venerated heads from whom they de- 
 scended. Here all again were to renew the mutual and holy 
 sympathies that once bound parents to children, and children 
 to parents ; here all, with gushing hearts, were to exchange con- 
 gratulations, and to re-embody the images of past joys and 
 sorrows, as well as to send forward visions into the distant 
 future. What spectacle on earth can be more interesting and 
 lovely ! In one group all the survivors of the same stock, and 
 as if still one family ! Even the remembrance of such family 
 exhibitions, far in the retrospect as the reality now slumbers, is 
 indeed refreshing. It tells of delights in olden times, to which 
 the present generation are comparative strangers. We may, it 
 is true, have other social enjoyments instead of those, and 
 which, by some, may be deemed more than an equivalent ; but 
 to octogenarians there is a saddening deficiency in a most im- 
 portant particular. 
 
 The nominal observance of Thanksgiving has truly been ex- 
 tended. In a majority of the states of the Union there is an 
 ofiScial call for it ; yet to a very limited extent is there any of 
 the social family manifestations once deemed indispensable. 
 Even the Thanksgiving dinner, for which, in olden times, there 
 was a long season of preparation, now is barely remembered. 
 Perhaps on the previous evening a single article for the culinary 
 department is named in reference to it. But this is all. There 
 is no variety ; there is no pomp of provisions ; no display of 
 cookery ; it is a mere every- day aifair. Once there was as 
 much family ambition to acquire notoriety on these occasions, 
 in gastronomy, as in later years for a mariiage banquet or a 
 county barbecue. True, the motive for such expenditure and 
 labor can scarcely be said to exist. If there were half a cord 
 of meats, vegetables, and pies on the Thanksgiving dinner- 
 table, who would now be there to eulogize the skill with which 
 the whole was made ready, or for a practical commentary on 
 its excellence? Would the children and the grandchildren 
 
 LovB is a passion which kindles honor into noble acta. 
 
so much blood and treasure in an absurd attempt to make all men 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 271 
 
 'Z 
 
 m 
 
 g 
 
 from the neighborhood or adjoining towns, having, perhaps, 
 with each branch, the farm dog, repair to the pld family man- 
 sion, thus adding fresh life to the venerable heads, to the fam- 
 ily of the elder son remaining with them, and not less an 
 unmarried daughter of twoscore and ten years? Do they 
 continue as of old to inspire, in country localities, the interest 
 once felt at the Thanksgiving dinner-table ? Not at all. The 
 old mansion is as quiet as if smitten with desolation. There is 
 no excitement; no tears of joy from the greetings of distant 
 loved ones ; no increased laughter and frolic from the groups 
 of children thus brought together ; and the stereotype monot- 
 ony of the premises, within and without, seems destined to a 
 ceaseless dominion. 
 
 A r^etition of those annual conventions of the various scat- 
 tered members of the family is no more to be expected. In 
 the times to which allusion has been made, there was room 
 enough for all the members of the family, even to the fourth 
 generation, within the compass of twenty or thirty miles. 
 Within such a circuit there were elements of property sufficient 
 to satisfy the most ambitious ; beyond it no one dreamed of em- 
 igration. Here all were packed down for life ; and those the 
 most distant from the patriarchal abode, could journey thither 
 on horseback in two days, spending the night midway with a 
 cousin. And, perhaps, there was no want of means for special 
 communication, on an emergency, within those limits, of which 
 we could now rightfully complain. Without railroads, and 
 even without good carriage roads, those family conventions were 
 feasible, and attended with no great inconvenience. As soon as 
 the younger members of the family became more widely dis- 
 persed, those inconveniences were multiplied ; and, at the pres- 
 ent day, it is a matter of such frequency that one of the family 
 descendants from the Granite State, for instance, is settled in 
 Lowell; one in Illinois; one in New Orleans; one in Charles- 
 ton ; one in Texas ; and one, perhaps, in California, we are not 
 to expect that they will all again, in company, return to the 
 paternal mansion to participate with their numerous kindred in 
 the festivities of a Thanksgiving dinner. In imagination we 
 may revisit those scenes ; but the realities belonged mostly to 
 a past generation. Instead of those realities, we have, as a 
 substitute^ artificial wants, only to a limited degree, ever to be 
 satisfied, and what may be called the national glory of a coun- 
 try, extended from one ocean to the other. The substitute and 
 the. old-fashioned reality have about the same relative value in 
 the purposes of life, that gold leaf has to the compact mass 
 from which it was educed ; the one to be exhibited for the ad- 
 
 All love may be expelled by other love, as poisons are by poisons. 
 
and sour, both are fit only to engender colic and wind ; but, if 
 
 ■3. 
 
 ■T3 
 
 272 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 miration of the gazing multitude, and the other to be deposited 
 in the poclset, on account of its intrinsic worth. 
 
 As the younger portions of my readers may not generally ex- 
 pect to see another of those old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinners 
 in the country, we will here, from an old manuscript, furnish an 
 account of one. The locality was in the renowned county of 
 Berkshire ; and the dinner was provided under the supervision 
 of a venerable mother in the Bay State, the wife of Deacon 
 Isaiah Seaborn. The manuscript bears the date of 1805, and 
 the dinner was probably in the previous year — a period mid- 
 way between that when all the members of a family were hud- 
 dled into a single county, and that of 1850, when they are, 
 seemingly, dispersed over the whole creation. 
 
 Deacon Seaborn was a direct descendant from one of the early 
 settlers in New England ; and there were many incidents and 
 anecdotes connected with the history of his ancestors that would 
 amuse the reader, but our prescribed limits do not allow the di- 
 gression needed in their introduction. He inherited no small 
 share of the prominent characteristics of his ancestors, being 
 punctilious in the performance of religious duties, and was a 
 rigid republican from principle as well as from habit. His edu- 
 cation was of the better sort among the yeomanry. Books 
 then, it is well known, were scarce, but he was well informed in 
 relation to all matters of general interest. In personal appear- 
 ance he was also truly venerable. His figure was tall and erect ; 
 his countenance pensive and intelligent; and his dress was 
 comely, although mostly from articles manufactured in his own 
 family. In addition to this, now at the age of seventy-five, with 
 a high forehead and a profusion of long, white locks, he would 
 have given dignity to the bench of our first courts or the most 
 elevated legislative hall in the country. Deacon Seaborn mar- 
 ried young, and from the time of wedlock had occupied the 
 same farm ; first, like most persons in the neighborhood at that 
 day, a resident in a log cabin, and subsequently in a frame house, 
 from time to time enlarged and improved, till it became one of 
 the most spa,eious mansions in that part of the country. By in- 
 dustry, good management, and economy, he was always easy in 
 his circumstances, contributing beyond what was customary to 
 objects of public utility. In addition to regular taxes, the lar- 
 der of his minister was often replenished from the stores of his 
 own family. This is one of the most delightful features in rural 
 life. The bestowment, in this manner, every now and then of 
 a leg of bacon, a few pounds of butter, a cheese, or a b;ig of 
 meal, exert a moral influence far greater than their intrinsic 
 value. They are not viewed as charities, but as tokens of good- 
 
 For any man to match above his rant, is but to sell his liberty. 
 
struggles of those very claimants who have the least chance 
 
 A FALL Thanksgiving in the country. 273 
 
 will ; and hence, produce a response the most refreshing to 
 the springs of social life. Liberal as were his contributions, 
 they did not impoverish the giver. They were like bread cast 
 upon the water, yielding in time a twofold return ; and they, no 
 doubt, had their weight in securing to him the title by which lie 
 was always known, indicative of a kind of premiership in the 
 church, though an office without pecuniary reward. 
 
 In all the relations of life. Deacon Seaborn ranked with the 
 most honored class of his generation ; and, in the size of his fam- 
 ily, there was no approximation to the decline which has been 
 so general among the descendants of the pilgrims. In the early 
 history of New England, it was no unusual thing that there 
 were in the family twelve or fifteen children, and occasionally 
 the number was from fifteen to twenty, among the more aristo- 
 cratic portions of the community. If we recollect right. Gov- 
 ernors John Winthrop, and Joseph Dudley, of Massachusetts, 
 had between them two full dozens ; not, indeed, that they raised 
 children as a joint stock concern ; nothing more is intended, than 
 that in one count, the children of the two made the number 
 twenty-four. And Governor William Bradford, of Plymouth, 
 had fifteen. Deacon Seaborn had as many, wanting one. At 
 the present time, a general family exuberance of the kind would 
 produce an overwhelming panic. Revulsion and poverty would 
 raise their hideous fronts, more frightful than the Asiatic chol- 
 era. Thousands and tens of thousands of young men do not 
 marry at all ; because the conventional forms of society require 
 such an outlay in the case of two or three babies, they shrink 
 from the responsibility. And, is it not a fact, that nine-tenths 
 of the frequently occurring defalcations among clerks and fac- 
 tors have their origin in such overstrained responsibilities? 
 
 In the days of Governor Bradford, and even as late as those 
 of Deacon Seaborn, it was not so. The latter was repeatedly 
 known to assert, that every additional child born to him added 
 at least five hundred dollars to his estate. In those days parents 
 were not impoverished by the raising of children — no matter 
 how many they had — the cost was but a small sum ; and they 
 soon became so' efficient, as to be able to earn what would be 
 sufficient to repay the whole, with interest. An intimation like 
 this may at once be repudiated, as shockingly sordid ; as behind 
 the age; that no man of refined and exalted' feelings can admit 
 the thought of having children, in reference to their being of any 
 use to their parents ; nay, on the contrary, each must have a 
 nurse or hired attendant and a medical adviser within a fish-horn 
 call, till confirmed in irreclaimable effeminacy and helplessness. 
 Such was not the doctrine of Governor Bradford or Deacon 
 
 Hate shuts the soul, when dove-eyed mercy pleads. 
 
apd lo-^, mounted and pedestrian, that an author is ambitious 
 
 S 
 
 o 
 J4 
 
 274 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Seaborn. Such is not the doctrine of any who show their good 
 sense in resisting the most ridiculous and absurd usages of the 
 year 1860. If men simply want dolls and other household or- 
 naments, it is far more economical to have those made of wax ; 
 and, for the ornaments, to supply their halls and parlors with 
 ottomans, and girandoles, and chandeliers, and mirrors, and 
 statuary. These' will last for a lifetime, without the daily ex- 
 pense of medicine and medical advice. Wivea that neither 
 have the knowledge, or disposition, or physical capacity, to 
 perform domestic labor ; and children that never will be able 
 to take care of themselves, are the most expensive furniture a 
 man can possess. 
 
 It has been stated that Deacon Seaborn had fourteen chil- 
 dren — seven sons and seven daughters. According to the preju- 
 dices or superstitions of the time, the youngest son should, 
 doubtless, have been a physician. Such was not his destiny. 
 The thing was not thought of, or there was no faith in such an 
 hypothesis. All the sons were respectable farmers. The eldest, 
 Elijah, settled down, with a family, on the homestead ; died at 
 the age of fifty. All his children save three were daughters. 
 The names of the three sons were Moses, Aaron, and Jephtha. 
 The first married and settled at home, to preserve the family 
 succession. Aaron became a minister of high literary attain- 
 ments, and at the period in question was President of Laurel 
 Grove University ; and, at the same time, Jephtha was a senator 
 in Congress from a neighboring state, previously having been 
 one of its judicial functionaries. Of him more will appear in the 
 sequel. The daughters were all reputably married and had 
 children, mostly to farmers ; but some of them had sons that 
 became eminent in the legal profession, and one in the navy 
 acquired reputation on board the celebrated frigate Philadelphia, 
 whose disastrous fate seemed to partake more of romance than 
 fact. _ There were assembled, on the occasion of which we are 
 speaking, including children, grandchildren, and great-grand- 
 children, in all ninety-eight ; being an average of seven to each 
 one in the second grade of descent ; a number not so great as it 
 would have beep ten years afterward by nearly one half — for 
 these family progressive multiplications are like money invested 
 at compound interest, creating a final amount almost incredibly 
 large. How else is it that the population of this country has 
 risen, in a httle more than two centuries, from a few handfuls of 
 men, scattered along the Atlantic shore, to more than twenty 
 millions ? And how else can it be estimated that in another 
 half century or so it will rise to one hundred millions ? 
 
 We have no particular fondness for a discursive habit of 
 
 He that is meroifal unto the bad is cruel to the good. 
 
 I 
 
 H. 
 
 A 
 
sun IS to the Bower : if nioderatel;^ enjoyed, it beautifies, it 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 375 
 
 tZi 
 
 60 
 
 J2 
 
 ■rtriting ; but, some how or other, we have occupied space sufficient 
 for a chapter, and as yet have not reached the subject contem- 
 plated. Our design was to give a description of an old-fashioned 
 New England Thanksgiving dinner, with all its paraphernalia, 
 social and culinary, as a painter would give an olden-times por- 
 trait, with olden-times costume, to convey idea to another gen- 
 eration of existing fashions in dress, as well as truthful delineation 
 of the features. This was our design, and with the aid of the 
 pianuscript alluded to, we shall now endeavor to effect it. Had 
 we space for a few paragraphs on the patchwork architecture 
 of a new country, we would present Deacon Seaborn's mansion, 
 with all its conveniences and deformiti(5S, and especially in refer- 
 ence to -the room having capacity to accommodate one hundred 
 persons at a bountiful feast. It is sufficient that the reader 
 know there was such a room, with a table of such dimensions 
 that all could collect around it, no two having occasion for a col- 
 lision of the elbows. Such collisions, where gravies and sweet- 
 meats are among the leading staples, are but little less to be 
 avoided than collisions of steamboats. The latter may be the 
 more destructive of life, but the effiscts of the former are the 
 more to be dreaded on new clothing and clean table linen. Nor 
 were the guests obliged to eat their dinner while on th« wing 
 or located on a block of timber ; all had chairs duly arranged, 
 and they eat, and di'ank, and gave healths, and made speeches, 
 with as much regularity and effect, as can be done at the Astor 
 House, where five dollars per head for such a dinner would be 
 cheap fare. The day was also remarkably fine, for one in the 
 latter part of November. Not a cloud was to be seen, nor was 
 it too cold for comfort. The table was so covered over and 
 borne down with the provisions, that it might seemingly have 
 groaned under the pressure ; and Providence was, as it were, 
 intent in guarding against any inclemency that might interfere 
 with the free enjoyment of it. 
 
 It would, perhaps, be superfluous to say that the table was 
 spread with linen white as the purest snow, and, although of 
 domestic production, overlaid with curious figures and devices, 
 that would well have compared with the best specimens of for- 
 eign damask. And the numerous dishes, although without gold 
 enamel, were as while and fair as the dozen plump maiden 
 bosoms that were to grace the feast, scattered around the table 
 at regular intervals, like so many precious gems in rich jewelry. 
 For us the posthumous details of eating and drinking furnish no 
 attraction. We have no taste for gastronomic lectures ; yet, as we 
 write for others and not for ourselves, the bill of fare will be pre- 
 sented. At each end of the table was a twenty-pound roast tur- 
 
 The whispering air sends inspiration from tke monntain heights. 
 
conclave. His name was Montalbon ; and on a division for the vacant 
 
 276 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 key, as if to assign to the most lordly of the feathered race stations 
 of corresponding dignity. Towering as were their physical pro^ 
 portions, the rich odor of their savory seasoning bore equal tes- 
 timony to the agency they would exercise in the ends now to be 
 accomplished. Midway between the two, and in the centre of 
 the table, was placed the rich burgomaster of provisions, called 
 a chicken pie, twenty-seven inches in diameter, in magnitude 
 somewhat analogous to the sun in the solar system. This pie, 
 which is formed wholly of the choicest parts of fowls, enriched 
 and seasoned with a profusion of butter and pepper, and covered 
 with an excellent puff-paste, is an indispensable item in a good 
 and true Yankee Thanksgiving dinner ; the size of the jrie denot- 
 ing the gratitude of the party that prepares the feast. Inter- 
 mediate, either way, between the chicken pie and the princely 
 gobbler, were alternately placed surloins of beef, roasted geese 
 and ducks, boiled hams, boiled mutton, roasted pork, and boiled 
 tongues, so that there was barely space for the countless num- 
 ber of dishes for cooked vegetables, pickles, celery, jellies, gravies, 
 and the like. Allowing the roasted gobblers to be 40lb. ; the 
 roasted beef 501b. ; the boiled hams and mutton to be 50lb. ; 
 and the roasted geese and ducks, with boiled fowls and tongues, 
 to be 60lb. — probably below the reality — and we shall here 
 have two hundred pounds of the choicest meats, cooked in the 
 best possible manner, for one country Thanksgiving dinner. 
 
 Nor was this all. The meats, with their accompanying ad- 
 juncts, were designed to form, on such an occasion, only a kind 
 of prologue to the principal entertainment ; the assault to be 
 made upon them was to bear about the same relation to the 
 ulterior movement that a skirmish has to a general battle. 
 There was a side-table, and there were anterooms, displaying 
 the materials for a second, and for any succeeding course. The 
 usual calculation was to have a huge pumpkin pie in readiness 
 for each individual, and an equal number of apple, and also of 
 mince, they being of somewhat reduced dimensions, varying 
 from a gross to a gross and a half of square inches upon the 
 surface of each. It was by no means expected that all was to 
 be eaten at this time ; it was the provision for the entire season 
 of Thanksgiving. And besides the pies, there were enormous 
 puddings, sweetmeats, cake, nuts, apples, and other fruits, too 
 numerous to be enumerated. 
 
 Next followed the grand onslaught, adopting an expressive 
 word from Hudibras, now nearly obsolete, like the good old- 
 fashioned steel-pronged table-forks ; both too valuable to be 
 discarded by sensible people. For one, we intend to use this 
 word as long as we live, whether lexicographers like it or not. 
 
 Night shows stars and women in a better light. 
 
and although we heaT mucin of the gk>rious uncertamty of 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THK COUNTRY. 277 
 
 because we know no other word that so fully presents the idea 
 to be eoBveyed by it. And we also here present our protest 
 against the ostracism of the table implement mentioned, and 
 the Substitution of the silver fork in its place ; the latter answer- 
 ing the essential purposes of the former about as well as a 
 feather from the wing of ihe beautiful swan would answer the 
 purposes of the scajpel in surgical operations. The simple pro- 
 cess of eating was much the same fifty years ago that it is at 
 present, save what has attended the substitution on which we 
 here comment. At that time, when the edibles were reduced 
 to proper dimensioos, they were conveyed to the mouth by the 
 agency of the knife and fork, whereas, at the present time, the 
 transition is made by the joint agency of the substitute of the 
 fork and the fingers of the left hand ; an improvement, in the 
 estimation of fashionable brainless epicures, of equal value to 
 the discoveries ia phrenology ! If the time should ever come 
 when our food is to be solely a vegetable diet, for which the 
 silver fork was designed, we will cheerfully withdraw our caveat. 
 Deacon Seaborn's guests gave substantial proof that they rel- 
 ished the dinner. There was little ceremony, and less of pa- 
 rade ; yet the gratified hospitality, the urbanity, and the dignity 
 of the deacon and his wife, would have made the occasion 
 most interesting even to a stranger. The conversation during 
 the repast, though chiefly employed in comparing the respec- 
 tive qualities of the several dishes, and explaining the manner 
 of their preparation, was more attractive than a discussion of 
 the same subjects would have been at a nobleman's table. And 
 the guests were so arranged that there was no lack of little 
 squads all about the table to bring up family reminiscences, and 
 to exchange local knowledge with each other, so that the whole 
 presented one of the most happy groups ever brought together. 
 Here was old age and childhood — 'rustic simplicity, and the 
 more polished specimens of fashionable life — 'female elegance 
 with bright eyes and playful wit, and by its side the athletic 
 arm and the sunburnt visage — yet, all descended from the 
 same stock, and each giving to the picture features of peculiar 
 beauty. 
 
 On the removal of the table-cloth there was due preparation for 
 a more elevated tone of entertainment. The more ordinary 
 instincts of life having been appeased, scope was now allowed 
 for an exhibition of sentiment, of familiar colloquy, of innocent 
 repartee, and it may be added, of genuine eloquence. So far 
 as drinking was introduced, it was a mere matter of form, for 
 Deacon Seaborn was a temperance man in advance of hfs age. 
 Every now and then the colloquial enjoyment of the party 
 
 Night is eo lovely, she hath made mapy bards. 
 
and if little children are observed to cry for the moon, it is because 
 
 1 
 
 278 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 would be interrupted by some sudden expression of well-ar- 
 ranged tUought, that would have done credit to a legislative 
 assembly of men. Not less than a dozen regular speeches were 
 made. We have room for notlJing more than an abstract of 
 two, which will be a fair sample of the whole. Deacon Sea- 
 bom occupied the chair at one end of the long table, and his 
 eldest surviving son, usually, in the town, known as Squire 
 Seab6rn, occupied the chair at the opposite end. The Kev. 
 Aaron Seaborn was on the, right of his grandfather, and oppo- 
 site was his venerable grandmother. Opposite the place of 
 the burgomaster of the feast was Senator Jephtha, and facing 
 him was his wife, with a charming daughter, of sixteen and eigh- 
 teen, on either side. The others were arranged for convenience 
 in carving and other honors of the table, all of suitable age 
 being brought into requisition, the younger children with their 
 parents, and the young men and young AVomen in such rela- 
 tions of proximity as to conduce most to chastened and enh- 
 vened soeiabiUty. All this was arranged by Squire Seaborn, as 
 a kind of grand marshal, for the duties of which he was so much 
 distinguished, that on all public occasions he was a sort of ex 
 officio for any such service. 
 
 Here Squire Seaborn proposed the health of his fathef and 
 mother, from whom the numerous fiimily present had descended. 
 All filled their glasses— some with wine, some with lemonade, 
 and some with water ; and then, as by one feelint; of impulse, 
 without being requested, all rose, and while standing drank to 
 the health of the venerable pair ! The sight, to a spectator, 
 must have been overpowering, like a full hemisphere of the 
 niost brilliant light oft a sudden cast upon the organs of human 
 vision. Who could have witnessed it without emotion ? What 
 a concentration of elements for the most gifted pencil ! What 
 expounder of moral truth can, in the language of letters, indite 
 a discourse of such overwhelming power ? 
 
 All again became seated, save the sainted and beloved patri- 
 arch. He stood silent for some minutes, apparently suppress- 
 mg themward swelhng of a bosom now overtaxed almost be- 
 yond his control. Then tears were removed ; and at last, with 
 difficulty, he was able to speak—" Beloved children, grandchil- 
 dren, and great-grandchildren ! If ever mortal lived to see the 
 measure of his own bliss filled to overflowing, I am that mortal! 
 What eould I desire more? True, if aught of this world can 
 make life sweet, it isthe assemblage of dear ones fiow before me ■ 
 and not one of the number of whom I need feel ashamed and of 
 some a prmce might feel proud! Were my life still to be 
 spared till another Thanksgiving anniversary, could I then ex- 
 
 er' 
 
 «i3 
 
 ff*- 
 
 4 
 
 -3 
 
 s 
 
 III the human breast two master passions Cannot exist. 
 
at a distance from other men ; seen through that distance, 
 
 =s 
 
 J3 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 (D 
 
 I 
 
 o 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 279 
 
 pect to meet you all here as you now are ? It would be unwise 
 to mar our present joy by prying into the future ; by imagin- 
 ing what may and probably will take place before the close of 
 another calendar year. While life is continued to us, it is our 
 sanctioned privilege to feast on its rich dainties ; and wliile we 
 are continued in the possession of it, to devote the talents grant- 
 ed us to the end for which they are designed. For one, I feel 
 like waiting in patience till my appointed change shall come; 
 knowing, as did the apostle, if good to live, it is better for the 
 Christian to die !" Here the speaker was obliged to desist — 
 his fefelings mot allowing him to give further utterance. It would 
 be in vain to describe the effect of these few words. The chil- 
 dren sobbed aloud. Those in the next grade of years above 
 them were unable to restrain their youtliful bosoms. The 
 throbbings might seemingly have been heard as well as seen. 
 And the others present, of the more advanced eras of human 
 life, mused in sadness. The falling tear was the only response 
 they could ma'ke. After some little delay, Deacon Seaborn pro- 
 posed drinking to the memory of the Pilgrim ancestors. 
 
 All eyes were instantly raised. It was known tliis toast was 
 designed to draw forth something more full on the subject to 
 which it related, than had hitherto dropped in the desultory 
 remarks of different individuals present. It would be construc- 
 tive treason, on the Fourth of July, an autumnal Thanksgiving, 
 or the anniversary of the Plymouth landing, not to discuss this 
 subject in all its length and breadth. Tiieie was present a 
 learned divine, the Reverend chaplain of the day, and a states- 
 man of no inferior distinction. Of them, in particular. Deacon 
 Seaborn must have been proud. And proud of them would 
 have been their father, Elijah Seaborn, had he been permitted 
 to live and witness their eminence. And who then present was 
 not proud of the relationship ? Indeed, if there is anything of 
 this world truly precious in tlie estimation of the aged parent, 
 it is the respectability and the happiness of his children and 
 more remote descendants. It was for some time a matter of 
 doubt which of the two grandsons alluded to would respond to 
 the deacoh's toast. Perhaps the female portion of the assem- 
 blage would have preferred hearing the chaplain, in the expec- 
 tation of something particularly in accordance with his profes- 
 sion, and, of course, in harmony with their sympathies, always 
 responsive to the sweet accents of Christian doctrine and Christian 
 morals. The male portion might have preferred an exposition 
 of civil liberty in reference td the pilgrims. On this matter the 
 pilgrims were verily in great advance of the age in which they 
 lived. To discuss this, the senator judge very naturally would 
 
 We should sfiOrtj a pJeasfire, if it give another pain. 
 
worat men cannot bring themselves to esteem a bad man, although 
 
 280 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 have been the more competent ; or, if not the mor? competent, 
 more familiar with topics relating to civil government. All 
 present having such preferences, in this, were to be gratified ; 
 for by the time the assemblage became duly quieted and poised 
 for catching every word that might fall from the prater. Judge 
 Seaborn arose and addressed his kinsfolks as follows : 
 
 " One hundred and eighty-four years since, wanting about thir- 
 ty-five days, the Mayflower might have been seen approaching the 
 shores of Plymouth. What, heart among the tenants of that 
 vessel, with Christian equanimity, could have indulged anticipa- 
 tions of the destiny before them ? Where were the habitations 
 to receive and shelter them in all those desolate and snow-clad 
 regions ? Where were the hearths and the fires around which 
 they were to cluster during the long and cold winter on which 
 they were just entering? Where were the storehouses and 
 the larders from which their daily supplies of food were to be 
 drawn ? Where were those hygeian instrumentalities required 
 in every community ? Or, where were the consecrated tem- 
 ples in which they were to hold public communion with their 
 Maker? You are all familiar with their history. It is not 
 needful that any recitals from it be here made. There is no 
 marvel that famine and disease made such desolation among 
 them! It is rather a marvel that they were not all cutoff; 
 that any should have remained, from whose loins a goodly 
 nation has been born ; to which we trace our own family lin- 
 eage ! We may know all the facts in that history, but we 
 cannot fully realize them, any more than we can realize, gener- 
 ally, facts in philosophy or history with the practical epera- 
 tion of which we have never been placed in proximity. Be- 
 sides, in this there is so much apparent romance — so much 
 extraordinary incident surpassing all other history, instead of 
 realizing the truth as in other cases, we are actually bewildered 
 and amazed. Suppose there were now placed, along the line 
 of this table on one of the walls, an extended picture, in great 
 perfection, of the landing of the company of the Mayflower, 
 the 22d of December, 1620, each individual in the figure and 
 costume of life; all exhibiting their respective mental and 
 social attributes — one bowed down with disease and exhaustion 
 — one in the attitude of devotion — one with all the delineations 
 
 of despair on the countenance — and all shivering with cold ; 
 
 we might admire the skill of the painter, but even that, pre- 
 senting as much as possible the circumstances attending and 
 surrounding that plighted band in contrast with the circumstan- 
 ces of this Occasion, would not enable us to realize the scene as 
 it ought to be realized. We often complain that our faith is 
 
 Inoculation was practiced in Turkey long before it was known in Europe. 
 
a belter foundation than stoicism ; be is pleased with everything 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 281 
 
 ha 
 
 defective because we cannot take hold of the future and resolve 
 it into distinct, vivid, and tangible forms, analogous to those of 
 life hovering about us. B.ut this is an infirmity of humanity ; 
 and our retrospective powers are nearly as defective as our pros- 
 pective powers. So long as we live in the flesh, neither the 
 images of faith nor memory will be like the realities of the pres- 
 ent time, 
 
 As much as has been said and written respecting our Plym- 
 outh ancestors, it may be that there are points in their character 
 not duly understood. Not a f«w have represented them as fur- 
 nishing more perfect models of man than is elsewhere found in 
 the history of the world. Others have lacked in charity, when 
 setting forth their character. Their eulogists have seen so much 
 in them to admire, that, in speaking of them, they have laid 
 aside philosophical investigation, and adopted the language of 
 rhapsody. It is not proposed, on the present occasion, to enter 
 into an analysis of the elements which gave most prominence to 
 them as Christians or civilians. Their advocates should not pre- 
 tend that they were exempt from human weakness. It is suffi- 
 cient that they be set forth as individuals of the highest grade 
 of moral excellence in their day ; and that, as the founders of a 
 new nation, in all the attributes of political wisdom and fore- 
 cast, they rose vastly above the age in which they lived. No 
 one, it might seem, can deny this ; yet, it would be wonderfully 
 paradoxical, if they were wholly untouched and unharmed by 
 the errors and usages of those with whom they had intimate 
 connection. In religion, the age was one of blind bigotry and 
 heartless persecution. In civil government, it was one of igno- 
 rance and gross tyranny. The moral darkness of the dark ages 
 still, like the darkness of Egypt, was scarcely penetrable. The 
 fire of truth had barely begun to burn. The light of that fire 
 had scarcely begun to be visible. Nor can it be presumed that 
 a few men would emerge from such an age wholly free from the 
 general prominent characteristics of all around them, and in con- 
 tact with them. To suppose it, would be as unphilosophical as 
 to suppose one can be constantly occupied in compounding med- 
 icine, and still not have his clothes impregnated with the odors ; 
 or that one can carry charcoal to market and not have his face 
 marked with the evidence of his trade. 
 
 In judging of the motives and characters of our fellow-men 
 of another age, and under less favorable circumstances for moral 
 and mental culture than we enjoy, we are not sufficiently accus- 
 tomed to make the allowances to which they are entitled. In 
 an age where the rights of conscience, in matters of religion, 
 have no recognized existence, or are treated as the chimeras of 
 
 The most disagreeable two-legged animal known is a little great man. 
 
opinion, -will make a man brave in another. The former would 
 
 ja 
 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 the imagination, it would be strange, indeed, to see even those 
 who had been the victims of unmitigated persecution, set an ex- 
 ample of that toleration now deemsd the prerogative of every 
 son and daughter of Adam. And hence, knowing what we do 
 of human nature, those of our first American ancestors who had 
 been the victims of hierarchical proscription, penalties, and disa- 
 bilities, were not to be expected, in founding a new ecclesiastical 
 regimen, to recognize principles then unknown to the world. 
 This was to be the result of a process requiring time. The hu- 
 mm intellect does not thus, without progressive development, 
 occupy such unwonted elevations. They, doubtless, had some 
 faint gleaming of this religious liberty-^some feeble forecast of 
 fraternal recognitions of equality among the disciples of the 
 same Saviour ; yet, the full exhibition of this lofty conception 
 was reserved for their descendants ; as the honor of building the 
 ancient temple was not allowed to David, but permitted to one 
 more favored in lineal descent. And, it may be affirmed with 
 great confidence, that history does not, in several important par- 
 ticulars, furnish a case parallel with that of the settlement of 
 New England. The Plymouth pioneers were neither a band of 
 vagrants nor outlaws — they were neither paupers nor reckless 
 adventurers in search of wealth, or fame, 6r political power. 
 So far as an inference may be drawn from known facts, it is safe 
 to say, they were governed by high and honorable motives. It 
 is possible, and even probable, that there were those in their 
 number not insensible to the ordinary human passions for honor- 
 able worldly eminence and distinction ; and, that all might have 
 partaken in the usual degree, with persdns in their grade of life, 
 of the attributes of human infirmity. This is not denied. But 
 it is not a fact, that, as a whole, they were governed mainly 
 by considerations that governed the best class of the best society 
 in that age of the world. 
 
 In matters of civil liberty they had made more proficiency. Here 
 their perceptions had become far more clear, and their purposes 
 _ far more distinct. Of this no proof is needed. The principles 
 fs I they promulgated have been recognized, and are spreading to the 
 "'' Western edge of the continent ; and their praise, ere long, will 
 be read of all rpen, in the Old World as well as the New. And, 
 a^ much as our ancestors may be admired for their just appre- 
 ciation of equal rights in civil liberty, it would be well if their 
 views were as widely adopted on the subject of universal edu- 
 cation. , If government is to be in the hands of the people, it is 
 most evident the people are to be made capable of maintainino' 
 it. Under an elective franchise, the government cannot be ex- 
 pected, in intelligence, to rise above the people. Both will, or- 
 
 The firmest friendships lave been formed in mutual adversity. 
 
the first-fruits at the altar of truth. Hiero, King of Syraciise, 
 
 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THE COUNTRY. 283 
 
 dinarily, be on the same level. If the mass of the people is ig- 
 norant, the presumption is, their rulers will be a clan of knaves. 
 To prevent this, the people must be enlightened ; primarily 
 effected by a utiiversal dissemination of the elements of educa- 
 tion, and then by those miscellaneous processes always in the 
 wake of good schools. The foundation laid in New Englan d 
 for the diffusion of knowledge, and, moie or less, since extended 
 to other states of the American Union, gives tlie pilgrim fathers 
 a claim for renown that shall run parallel with the duration of 
 the country they colonized and subdued. Had they done nothing 
 else entitling them to an imperishable fame, this should give 
 them rank with the wisest and best men who have ever lived. 
 It is impossible to over-estimate the benefits — not to Americans 
 simplyj but, in the end, to the human family — that will result 
 from the philanthropic views on this subject. These views must 
 in time revolutionize the world. In time, they will reach ev- 
 ery dark corner of the earth. They can no moi'e be confined 
 than material light. They will resist every obstacle, and the 
 more they are hated by demagogues and tyrants, the more 
 they will be cherished by the wise and good ; and some of us 
 may live to see these principles carried into the darkest places 
 of heathenism, preparatory to the fulfillment of the prophecy, 
 that the knowledge of God shall fill the earth, as the water fills 
 the sea. 
 
 Venerable Grand-parents ! You need no formal assurance 
 how much we all love and revere you ! Our very presence is 
 evidence of the filial affection which animates us. Nevertheless, 
 it may be proper, on this occasion, to make an expression of the 
 pride we feel in being connected, by you, to the Plymouth pil- 
 grims, whom we here honor in ascribing honor to you. The chain 
 between you and them is not long ; its links are all well defined ! 
 And, I can truly say, I have ever cherished a feeling of homage 
 for old age ! I cannot look upon those who have nearly com- 
 pleted a pilgrimage in the winding and mazy paths of life ; who 
 tiaye nearly finished their conflict with its storms and perils, 
 without offering to them a token of congratulation, and seeking 
 from them a parting benediction, and a shadow of their own ex- 
 perience. To me, gray hairs, especially when associated with a 
 life of virtue and a career of usefulness, are of more estimation 
 than the most brilliant crown ever worn by the proudest poten- 
 tate ! If I have any aspirations rising above all others, it is to 
 participate in the honors and the joys in reserve for those who 
 at threescore and ten can review the retrospect without pain or 
 mortification, and can, in confidence, relinquish to the agency and 
 care of a wise and good offspring every worldly interest. On 
 
 Secrecy has been well termed the soul of all great designs. 
 
make the beauty of a face, and true proportions the beauty of 
 
 284 A FALL THANKSGIVING IN THfi COUNTRY. 
 
 reaching such a point in our social and domestic relations, what 
 is there remaining for one to do ? Comparatively nothing ! 
 What is there for one, with the increase of infirmity and natural 
 decay, to enjoy, that will make him over fond of life? For if, 
 by temperance and assiduous caution, we preserve our vigor 
 beyond the limits usually expected, the days will verily come, 
 and the years will draw ni^h, when we shall be obliged to say 
 we have no pleasure in them — when the keepers of the house 
 shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and 
 the grinders shall cease because they are few; and. those that 
 look out of the windows be darkened, and the doors shall be 
 shut in the streets — when the sound of the grinders shall be 
 faint, and when one shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and 
 all the daughters of music shall be brought low — even when 
 we shall be afraid of that which is high, and the grasshopper 
 shall be a burden, and desire shall fail ; — then, we can no more 
 receive pleasure from the world, than water can be drawn from 
 the fountain after the silver cord is loosed, or the wheel at the 
 cistern, or the golden bowl is broken !" 
 
 Hail ! harvest home ! 
 To thee the muse of nature pours the song, 
 By instinct taught to warble I Instinct pure. 
 Sacred, and grateful, to that pow'r ador'd. 
 Which warms the sensate being, and reveals 
 The soul self-evident, beyond the dreams 
 Of visionary sceptics ! Scene sublime ! 
 Wliere the ricli earth presents her golden treasures 
 Where balmy breathings whisper to the heart 
 Delights unspeakable I where seas and skies, 
 And hills and valleys, colors, odors, dews. 
 Diversify the work of Nature's God 1 
 
 Gaming is the child of avarice, but the parent of prodigality. 
 
•a 
 
 « 
 
 
 > 
 
 P4 
 
 justice, estimation; prudence, respect ; courtesy and liberality, 
 
 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Think not the good, 
 The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done, 
 Shall die forgotten all ; the poor, the pris'ner. 
 The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow. 
 Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, 
 Shall cry to heaven, and pull a blessing on thee. 
 
 There is naturally, in the human breast, an instinct that 
 sympathizes with kindred beings, wherever found, or under 
 whatever circumstances situated. True, it is most impulsive 
 amidst the relations of consanguinity, and where is foutid a 
 similarity of mental culture. Yet, here are no limits to confine 
 its energies. The wide ocean presents no barrier to them. 
 The most distant islands of the sea are searched out by them. 
 They encompass, also, forms having repulsive complexions, and 
 holding converse in unknown languages. Verily, it is an attri- 
 bute of our nature, that binds the entire species in one bond of 
 brotherhood. And wherever it does not manifest itself, there 
 is a lack of what most contributes to the endearments and the 
 refined pleasures of the social state ; and this destitution is 
 evidently the result of some morbid or moral obliquity, that 
 places the possessor of it without the pale of our best organ- 
 ized communities. 
 
 This instinct, when in full compass ; when refined by the 
 embellishments of high intellectual endowments ; and, especially, 
 when sanctified by the spirit of pure religion, is like a deli- 
 cately-constructed and powerful musical instrument. It has, 
 as it were, ten thousand strings, each one expressive of some 
 distinctive condition in human economy, and all, upon the 
 slightest impression, ready to send forth their vibrations. 
 Whichever one is touched, its correspondent, to the utmost 
 limit of its tones, gives a prompt response. Thus, as face an- 
 swers to face in the water, or in the pohshed mirror, so does 
 the heart of man to man. If the chord indicative of grief be 
 moved, who does not let fall the sympathetic tear, and heave 
 the sympathetic sigh ? Who would not raise up the bowed 
 down ; smooth the brow of agony ; or heal the broken in heart ? 
 
 It is safer to be attacked by some men, than to be protected by them. 
 
the censures of the malignant. The approbation of God is 
 
 286 
 
 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Who would not impart vigor to the weak ; health to the sick ; 
 sustenance to the hungry ; clothing to the naked ; or shelter to 
 the houseless ? And, if the chord indicative of joy be moved— 
 if the glow of pleasure in the soul be chanted, where will one 
 fail to join in the harmonious acclamation ? 
 
 The instinct of which we are speaking appears to be an em- 
 anation or a reflection of the most prominent attribute of the 
 Deity, whose tender mercies are over all the works of his 
 hands, and whose solicitude for his creatures is such, that not 
 even a hair of the head perishes, or a sparrow falls to the 
 ground without his notice. When reflecting upon the univer- 
 sally responsive sympathy in the breast of man, we cannot fail 
 to be reminded of the metaphysical hypothesis of a very re- 
 spectable and eminently intellectual denomination of Christians, 
 which suppose the broad expanse of creation to be a system of 
 correspondents. Thus, there is an appropriate correspondent 
 to everything which exists, if we understand the theory ; both 
 in material and immaterial nature. Hence, if there be a, height, 
 there must be a depth. If there be a length, there must be a 
 breadth. If there be a northern extremity, there must be a 
 southern one. If there be fluid forms, there must be those 
 which are concrete. And if a destitution exists in one place, 
 an overplus will be found elsewhere. If personal suffering from 
 poverty is permitted to exist here, there will be recognized a 
 glowing bosom and an opening hand to fill up the void. Or if 
 the heart becomes warmed with the emotions of love, it is not 
 left to pine away in solitude without a recognition. 
 
 It is so evident that the Deity designed the bounties of Prov- 
 idence for the supply of the wants of his creatures — not a part, 
 but. the whole of them — that no one, we might presume, would 
 attempt to waste, in prodigality, these bounties, or unnecessa- 
 rily to hoard them up, if others are sufiering, as it were to 
 starvation, for the want of them. We may denounce indolence 
 and crime, which leads to destitution, without impropriety. 
 Nay, we should denounce them, and endeavor to prevent them ; 
 but we are not at liberty to close our hands, if the victims, 
 guilty as they may be, are to die for the want of what we can 
 spare to them. The principal question that arises with Chris- 
 tian people is, as to the best mode of discharging this duty. 
 This is a question of the utmost importance in every commu- 
 nity. It should be done, in the first place, to prevent peisonal 
 suffering ; but, in the second, in a manner, as far as practicable, 
 to prevent future occasions for it. And it should be done with 
 all the economy and frugality consistent with the object to be 
 obtained, but with the utmost kindness of manner to the feel- 
 
 Sloth has smothered many virtues, and the best of us are better when roused 
 
not that the public eye should be entirely avoided ; for 
 
 I 
 
 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 287 
 
 ings of the recipient. In the fluctuations of life, not a few be- 
 cotae miserably destitute ; not because of indolence ; not 
 because of crime ; but solely through misfortune. Of these 
 there are persons of the most acute sensibility, who would suf- 
 fer everything but death, rather than receive public or private 
 charity. To administer to such persons with reproaches or con- 
 temptuous indifference of feeling, is less meritorious than not 
 to give at all. It may save the life of the receiver ; but it 
 will never secure to the bestower the reward that is entailed to 
 such as impart a Cup of cold water only out of Christian sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 In the country there is not often to be found that intense 
 suffering from poverty that may be found in the city. To the 
 superficial observer, it is a matter of surprise that in cities, 
 where everything is ^done on a scale of apparent magnificence ; 
 where wealth is supposed to be without limits ; where labor 
 commands a high price ; where houses, and furniture, and ap- 
 parel, and every description of personal expenditure denote the 
 possession of unlimited means, so much destitution should exist 
 th-ere. This seems to be a mystery. The facts are incontro- 
 vertible. For, with all the princely magnificence that meets 
 the eye of the stranger in passing through the principal streets 
 of a populous town, he will find in, other localities extremes of 
 wretchedness correspondingly great. This wretchedness per- 
 tains not simply to a few, as in the country, but to thousands 
 and tens of thousands. Not simply to the indolent and the vicious, 
 but oftentimes to persons exhausting the best energies of nature 
 with severe toil. Not simply to tlie ignorant and the vulgar, 
 but oftentimes to the well bred, who have themselves, in past 
 seasons, enjoyed coinpetence and even affluence. Here he will 
 behold old age bowed down, and tottering, and haggard, the 
 mere effigy of former years ! Here he will behold the maimed 
 of every imaginable description — the blind — those wanting a 
 leg or an arm — by accident rendered unable to labor, and gladly 
 receiving pittance from those who meet them ! And here he 
 will behold women and children, even to infancy, squalid and 
 offensive to the conventional decencies of society, as well as to 
 Christian sensibility. These exhibitions are so gross no pencil 
 can delineate them ; no pen, however graphic, can describe 
 them ; and no imagination, however vivid, can conceive them ! 
 Still they are there — the monuments of human woe ! An ex- 
 treme in human existence, to show how far mortals may be 
 removed from each other ! 
 
 In the country there are not those suddeu and great changes 
 of the human condition that are experienced in great mercan- 
 
 Bats and conquerors must expect no mercy in misfortune. 
 
seated in a heart of courtesy, and eloquence as sweet in the 
 
 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 
 tile communities. These changes seem to be the result of nat- 
 ural, if not of unavoidable causes. In the country the operations 
 of business are well measured ; progress is slow ; there are no 
 sudden ebullitions of passion ; of course no especial tendency to 
 disaster ; all is like a ship on the calm ocean. In the city, the 
 entire movement is rapid, and oftentimes tumultuous ; hurry 
 and confusion are commonplace aspects of life ; passions are 
 easily kindled into a tempest ; revulsion may succeed revulsion 
 like the waves of the bottomless abyss, when upturned and 
 driven by a violent and irresistible tempest. In these revulsions 
 wealth and men are brought into new combinations. Lofty em- 
 inences are reduced to low grades of elevation ; fortunes are 
 swept away with the rapidity of smoke before the wind ; the 
 rich suddenly become poor ; and others, in time, rise to occupy 
 their places. Much the same law controls the business ele- 
 ments of the world, that governs in the kingdom of nature. 
 One extreme succeeds another. A pendulum, when first put 
 in motion, traverses a wider space than is afterward necessary. 
 A very low tide succeeds a very high one. So a man who is 
 suddenly hurled from high prominence of power or wealth, 
 sinks far below what he would, have been, had he never occu- 
 pied such a prominence. 
 
 The provision to be made for the poor in the country should 
 not be adjusted to the deserts of the idle and the vicious. The 
 feeling is a natural one, that they ought to suffer. That they 
 are the authors voluntarily of their own destitution, and have no 
 claim for support on the public or their personal friends. This 
 may be true ; and allowing them to suffer, to a certain extent, 
 may prevent the pernicious influence of their example. Never- 
 theless, there is provision to be made for the virtuous poor ; 
 those deprived of a home and a competence, because of misfor- 
 tune, or the evil conduct of others. To them all substantial 
 comforts should be given. Nor is this all ; as far as practicable, 
 they should be enabled to forget their own destitution. If de- 
 prived of the elegancies and the luxuries of life, there is no resison 
 why they should, as it were, be shut up in dungeons, or be entirely 
 screened from the agreeable shades of social life ; why its genial 
 warmth should not now and then, at least, be permitted to 
 impart to them its own enlivening influences. They should never 
 be taught practically to forget those budding joys that once 
 mad« them buoyant with hope, or the sunny days of their child- 
 hood and youth, or the first fruition of domestic bliss. If these 
 two classes of the poor are to occupy the same receptacle, 
 which is common in the country, it is better that the former have 
 more than they deserve, than that the latter should have less, 
 
 The learned have often amused themselves with the follies of dunces. 
 
the poles. In the British Channel they sometimes rise to the height of 
 
 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 289 
 
 ■M 
 
 than Christian philanthropy aild kindness would administer to 
 them. 
 
 One of the most degrading and offensive inodes of providing 
 for the poor, practiced in some sections of the countr)', is the 
 annual exposure of them at auction ; not, mdeed, quite like the 
 public sale of cattle and swine, to see v?ho will give the most 
 for them, but to see who will maintain these poor creatures at 
 the lowest rates ; that is, in, effect, to see who has the art of 
 keeping life in them at the least possible cost. This is the prac- 
 tical operation of the system ; for the object of the successful 
 competitor in one of these auctions is to make money out of his 
 bargain ; small as the weekly allowance for their maintenance 
 may be, to oblige them to live at a less cost than this allowance. 
 He can have no other motive for filling his house with paupers ; 
 and he evidently believes he can keep life in them at a lower 
 rate than any one else. The details of this process can be easily 
 imagined ; but they are too obnoxious to our feelings to be mi- 
 nutely described. It is not impossible that the poor, in such 
 casesi may fall into the hands of persons who are kind-hearted, 
 but the presumption is altogether against it ; and, if such occa- 
 sionally is the fact, it is very evident that all kind feelings must 
 be restrained, or else the keepers, instead of making money, will 
 lose, so small is the compensation received. 
 
 Some years ago, in making a journey through one of the East- 
 ern States, it occurred to us, on a particular day, that we were 
 in the vicinity of an individual we had intimately known in early 
 life. The individual was then a young lady, at a boarding 
 school, perhaps seventeen years of age. She belonged to one 
 of the most respectable families in her native town, and was her- 
 self of genteel form, of easy manners, and of the best mental 
 endowments. Her connections were all of what is called the 
 best class in society. No one about her had a better social po- 
 sition, and the future to her was full of hope. Apparently to her 
 the world had not shown a frown. Her father was not rich, 
 but supposed to possess an ample competence. Her mother 
 was handsome and accomplished. Perhaps the daughter was 
 not her equal in personal appearaijce ; but the difference was 
 more than made up by superior mental culture. Under such 
 circumstances our acquaintance with her was formed. It was 
 not of long continuance. Perhaps only the period of a college 
 vacation. We saw her not again till on the occasion in the jour- 
 ney alluded to. The intervening period must have been fifteen 
 or twenty years. Still, we had not forgotten her, and we rer 
 solved to see her, at least once more, this side of the grave. 
 
 Melancholy, however, was the change that had come over her. 
 
 Man 13 an embodied paradox, a bundle of contradictions. 
 
 19 ~' 
 
agricultvjrist his manure, which, if he spread over too 
 
 290 PROVISION FOR THE POOR IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Even when at school some religioBis hallucination hadimpaired the 
 vigor of her intellect. This, of course, terminated her education. 
 A species of harmless insanity succeeded. Her father soon died, 
 and the mother was unexpectedly left poor. The expedients 
 for an appropriate support of the daughter were soon exhausted, 
 and the poor creature became a town pauper, and was annually 
 t^ken at auction by the lowest bidder, with the other poor of 
 the town, for a support. To the residence of her guardian we 
 repaired, and the child of sorrow was quickly pointed out to us. 
 It could not be imagined that we should recognize her. Far 
 from it. Her sex could only be inferred from her attire, for her 
 countenance had become coarse and masculine. Not a vestige 
 of her former appearance remained. More strange, however, 
 we were remembered by her ; and she quickly adverted to con- 
 versations between us, when she was a sprightly girl at school. 
 We remembered them perfectly. The laws of mind are often 
 an inexplicable mystery. In this instance, our presence lit up, 
 as it were, one of the fires of her intellect, that had been smoth- 
 ered for more than the quarter part of a long life. It gave, indeed, 
 but a flickering light! Alternately a few bright gleams, indica- 
 tive of mental vigor, and then a vacant blank, without memory 
 or thought. 
 
 O, this poor brain ! ten thousand shapes of fury 
 Are whirling there, and reason is no more. 
 
 Our visit was short. Pleasure it could not afford us ! How- 
 ever, we beheld a new type of human destiny. It furnished a 
 new topic for philosophic reflection, and we could write chap- 
 ters on the subject. But that is not our object. It is simply 
 to state the moral to \>e derived from it. From that day we 
 have protested against thus putting up the poor at auction ; and, 
 till the day of our death, we intend to protest against it. In all 
 probability, had this unfortunate creature been properly treated, 
 for instance, at an insane hospital, she might now be an orna- 
 ment to her sex and a blessing to the world. 
 
 The proper mode of supporting the poor in the country, as' ' 
 well as m thjgicity, is an asylum for that purpose, of ample ac- 
 commodations, and under the supervision of a family competent 
 to advise and direct all its inmates. It sBould be connected 
 with a farm, of extent to furnish occupation, and the home pro- 
 ductions of support required by all the members of the establish- 
 ment. By thiUs making the services of all available, so far as able 
 to labor, the expense to each individual would be less than oth- 
 erwise possible, with the same amount of comforts Besides 
 the labor would be conducive to health, and would furnish em-*" 
 
 -iS- 
 
 Mdre have been ruined by their servants than their masters. 
 
 13 
 
 *e 
 
'iaiddIe*aDd the least at the bottom aud sides. But as the velocity 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 291 
 
 ployment forrthe miad, of vast importance to its soundness, and 
 in being able to cast away recollections of better days, so far as 
 that might render one unhappy. The garden would amuse and 
 occupy the females as well as the males. Those of taste for it 
 might cultivate flowers, or whatever would promote their, en- 
 joym&ilts. 
 
 Such an establishment should be attractive as well as commo- 
 dious, to answer all its desirable ends. It should not be called a 
 Poor-House, or by any other name that would be repulsive to the 
 feelings of the inmates. House of Industry would be a good 
 name for it; so would the Town Refuge, or the Town Asylum. 
 If there were not poor enough in a single town to render advi- 
 sable such an establishment, let two or three towns unite in the 
 enterprise, locating it in a central point, and dividing th« expense 
 among the parties. Whoever has seen such a well-'regulated 
 establishment would almost envy the poor their condition. They, 
 too, would feel contented and happy, and never mortified, when 
 visited by their friends, who had before known them. 
 
 Nothing can truly be •call'd mine own 
 But what I make mine own by using well. 
 Those deeds of charity which we have done 
 Shall stay forever with us ; and that wealth 
 Which we have so bestow'd, we only keep; 
 The other is not ours. 
 
 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Hard is the heart, who never at the tomb 
 
 Of one beloved, o'er the sepulchral um 
 
 Has mus'd on days that shall no more return, 
 
 And call'd around from the funereal gloom, 
 
 Shades of past joy ; while tears that lenient flow, 
 
 Seem to obUterate the sense of woe. 
 
 FuNEEiL obsequies and respect for the remains of the dead 
 are coeval with the earliest memorials we have of man. This 
 is natural ; there is no occasion to inquire into the philosophy 
 of it. The most uncultivated of the human species, as well as 
 those refined by all the embellishments of civilized life, have 
 
 Love, like a cold bath, seldom leaves us as it found us. 
 
 I ■ ■ -^ — " " ' " ■ — ~ 
 
ingenuity, according to its powers and tie sphere of its existence, has 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 be 
 
 292 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 had their sepulchral rites, and on occasion of their observance, 
 have given utterance to the most deep expressions of grief. The 
 usage is as nearly universal as any one with which we are ac- 
 quainted. True, the same mode of utterance has not prevailed 
 in different modes of life, and in different periods of the world. 
 Some have adopted one description of honors for the dead ; and 
 others have adopted those externally of a different description ; 
 but all designed to accomplish the same object. 
 
 Such are our reflections on this subject, almost intuitive in 
 their origin, we are influenced in no small degree in our estimate 
 of the characters of men, by the regard they manifest for the 
 dead, especially of their own kindred ; but seldom is there swch 
 a destitution of this regard, as to treat with irreverence the 
 sleeping dust of a stranger, or even of a deceased enemy. There 
 seems to be, in a lifeless human form, an overpowering influence 
 upon the beholder, not felt when that form was animated with 
 all the attributes of its nature. There seems to be, in the funeral 
 shroud and the garments of mourning, an exaction upon our 
 sympathies, our forbearance, and our kindness, experienced from 
 no other agency. There seems to be an awe and a majesty in 
 the grave that paralyzes the thoughtless and the resolute. Sel- 
 dom is one so heedless as not involuntarily to pass with light 
 step over the mouldering remains of a past generation. This is 
 the place in which the brave become cowards ! Here, the most 
 hardened in crime may melt into penitence ! Here, even the 
 scoffing infidel has often found his own self-confidence to quail 
 in sight of its own shadow ! 
 
 We are all familiar with the solemnities with which sepulchral 
 rites are performed, and the honors connected with these solem- 
 nities upon such as have occupied stations of eminence. The 
 eloquence of forensic halls is hushed, that place may be allowed 
 for them ; so are the decisions of the judicial bench ; and so are 
 the legalized formalities of imperial courts, when those of royal 
 blood are consigned to their final resting-place. Perhaps one 
 of the most impressive exhibitions of the kind is the suspension 
 of hostilities between contending armies, under a flag of truce, 
 that each may reverently bury their own slain. The refusal to 
 grant request for it, made in good faith, would mark with never- 
 endmg opprobrium such an outrage upon the hallowed proprie- 
 ties of the civilized world. 
 
 And we have read, too, of the pomp, and it may be added, 
 the splendor with which the ashes of Marcellus were collected 
 and preserved. But in simple dignity, the funeral of the patri- 
 arch Jacob far surpassed even that solemn pageant of ancient 
 Borne. What was there in the magnificence of that imposing 
 
 » 
 
 i 
 
 4 
 
 B 
 
 Applause is the spur of noble minds, the end and aim of weak < 
 
BO of the rest. This figure was chosen by the Greeks to denote the 
 
 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 293 
 
 is 
 ■3 
 
 .a 
 
 C3 
 
 .a 
 
 ^ 
 
 pageant that could compare with the national itinerant multi- 
 tude, which swelled like a flood, and moved like a riVer ; to all 
 Pharaoh's servants — to the elders of his house, and all the elders 
 of the land of Egypt — that is to say, the officers of his house- 
 hold and the deputies of his provinces — with all the house of 
 Joseph and his brethren — and his father's house — conducting 
 their solemn lamentations for near two hundred miles, into a dis- 
 tant country ? With such an example before us, no one need 
 apprehend that we shall pay too much respect and honor to the 
 dead and to the place where they r«st. With such an example 
 before us, it is no marvel that, when we die, one of the last lin- 
 gerings of the soul about its clay tabernacle is, that it may be 
 carried to the land of our fathers, where it may sleep with those 
 we have loved. If we ever breathe a conception truly sublime, 
 it is that we may rest, till the dawn of another existence, in the 
 same fellowship where we have lived, and hoped, and toiled, 
 during our earthly pilgrimage ! 
 
 It surely cannot be out of place, if we refer to a recent case 
 among ourselves, not unlike, in some of its features, the one we 
 have named. It is only a few months since one of the most 
 venerated fathers of our republic suddenly expired at its capitol. 
 True, the whole assembly of its rulers did not leave their sta- 
 tions, as did the rulers of Egypt, in the case of Jacob, but they 
 sent a full and most honorable delegation to fulfil a similar 
 trust. That mission was consummated amidst the tears of an 
 entire nation ; and the sage of Quincy quietly reposes with his 
 kindred of past generations. 'If ambition wei-e to aspire to a 
 human destiny of imperishable lustre, and without a full paral- 
 lel in the annals of the world, it would be here, in all its graphic 
 beauty. 
 
 The cemeteries of the Jews were caves and grounds apart 
 from their cities. Abraham, we are told, purchased the field of 
 Machpelah, and there buried Sarah, his wife, in a cave, wherein 
 he himself was afterward deposited. The Greeks and Romans 
 usually burnt the bodies of their dead, but had cemeteries 
 without their cities, where they deposited the urns containing 
 the ashes and fragments of bones, which were carefully collected. 
 The ancient Germans buried their dead in groves consecrated 
 by the priests. The Egyptians, Greeks, and Komans erected 
 over the graves of men of rank, or persons otherwise remarkable, 
 pyramids, mausolea, or temples. The modern Turks and Chi- 
 nese imitate the Greeks and Romans, in placing their cemeteries 
 without thrir cities. They are generally situated on eminences, 
 and abound with cypress-trees. The Chinese never inter in a 
 grave previously occupied, at least before all th« remains of the 
 
 Wealth is often a snare to oorselves, and always a tepiptation to others. 
 
pillar, then the chiyealis or pupa, and finally the perfect and procreative 
 
 ■ 1 H* 
 
 294 CEMRTERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 former body have disappeared, and therefore their cemeteries 
 occupy a large surface of ground. 
 
 The early Christian martyrs were buried in caverns. When 
 Christians were allowed the public exercise of their religion, 
 they erected churches ; and, in the fourth century, they built 
 churches over the sepulchres of martyrs. In the progress of 
 time, the practice of establishing sepulchres under churches, or 
 contiguous to them, became common. The idea is certainly an 
 aoreeable one, provided no evil can arise to the health of the 
 living, from effluvia escaping the tombs, of which it might seem 
 there is no danger, with suitable precautions, unless it be in 
 populous cities, where interments are frequent. When engaged 
 in acts of public worship, the thought that the lifeless remains 
 of deceased relatives are reposing beneath us or about us, and 
 that, ere long, we are to be there united to them, cannot fail to 
 make a deep impression upon the mind, and to assist it in the ex- 
 ercises of devotion. There must be an entire change in the laws 
 of mind, if such associations were not to be powerfully influen- 
 tial. However, there is a growing disposition in the commu- 
 nity, especially in cities, against sepulchres connected with 
 churches. 
 
 In most nations a custom has prevailed, of planting public 
 cemeteries with trees. The cypress was an emblem of mourning 
 with the Romans. We have mentioned that the Turks and Chi- 
 nese use it. In Britain, the yew has been used for this purpose 
 for centuries. An opinion has been entertained that evergreens 
 have thus been selected, as emblematical of the immortality of 
 the soul. Whether such be the fact or not is not very material. 
 It cannot, however, be denied, that in addition to the beauty of 
 the better class of evergreens, amidst the cold blasts and snows 
 of winter, we cannot well fail to be reminded by them of be- 
 ing thus appropriate. It requires no effort of the imagination 
 to receive moral instruction from them. It is well known that 
 evergreens are used for churches at the season of Christmas. 
 Nor can it be doubted that the motive in the one case is simi- 
 lar to that in the other. Its application is too obvious to require 
 additional remark. 
 
 In the country, a well-chosen cemetery, improved by a mod- 
 erate amount of expenditure and good taste, is particularly 
 attractive. Enclosed by a substantial fence, with its good gravel 
 walks; its green shrubbery; its shady bowers; its blushihn- 
 flowers, and its snow-white monuments, will engross the atten- 
 tion of every passing traveler. Not an object to be seen by 
 him more highly commends to favorable consideration the inhab- 
 itants of a town. It denotes a due appreciation of the prevail- 
 
 Eloquence is the language of nature, and eannot be learned in the schools. 
 
read by the light of three of them. The largest epeciea have 
 
 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 295 
 
 ing maxims of the present age on the subject ; and, if possible, 
 what is more to be prized, of public decency and a reverential 
 and respectful devotion to the memory of deceased kindred. 
 When sojourning in the vicinity of such a well-designed estab- 
 lishment, if conveyed in our own vehicle, which was formerly 
 more frequent than at present, rarely did we omit, although 
 among strangers, to spend a brief period in reviewing the in- 
 scriptions. Whoever does this, cannot fail to find much that 
 will interest the votary of this branch of history, and much that 
 will improve his moral powers. 
 
 If one can visit a city of the dead without recliving bene- 
 ficial moral impressions, he must be peculiarly situated, or else 
 his mental temperament must have undergone changes unfavor- 
 able to the emotions of piety. If the names there found are 
 new to us, we may recognize dates, and events, and characters, 
 similar to those with which we have been made familiar ; simi- 
 lar to inscriptions we in sorrow have been obliged to record at 
 the loss of precious ones, which mainly rendered life dear to 
 us. If we read of the exit of a lovely and young wife, it may 
 be that in the same year we were bereft of an affectionate 
 bosom companion. If we read of the decease of a venerated 
 father or mother, it may be that in the same month we expe- 
 rienced a similar affliction. If we read of the death of an only 
 beloved child, it may be that on the very day we ourselves were 
 made childless. Coincidences like these, too numerous to be 
 particularized, will surely arrest the attention ; will open anew 
 the fountains of sorrow ; and will lead to anticipations of a bet- 
 ter world — to communings with departed spirits with which we 
 hope again to be perpetually united. 
 
 On the other hand, sad and unsatisfactory will be our reflec- 
 tions on the depositories of the dead, if all the appendages be- 
 longing to them indicate neglect. What would be our inferen- 
 ces, if the fences were broken and fallen down ; if the shrubs 
 and trees had been mutilated or destroyed by the cattle ; if the 
 monuments had been defaced and prostrated; and if the hogs were 
 seen committing depredations among the graves ? We should 
 be shocked at the spectacle. We should infer that the inhab- 
 itants were without religion and an ordinary deference to the 
 most amiable and lovely sensibilities of our nature. Can per- 
 sons have sincerely loved those here consigned to their mother 
 earth, and permit such desecrations upon and about their hal- 
 lowed dust? Can the affectionate recollection of parents, or 
 wives, or husbands, or children, be cherished with Christian 
 sympathy, when these indications of neglect greet the eye of 
 every traveler "? It is not possible. If the ghosts of the de- 
 
 Pickpockets and beggars are the best practical physiognomists. 
 
their grief, and other paBsiona are distinguished in the tone of their hum- 
 
 ^ 
 
 £ 
 
 a 
 •c 
 
 296 CEMETERIES IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 
 .a 
 
 parted ever revisit the scenes of earth in displeasure, here would 
 be ample occasion for it. 
 
 If each man in the town would annually spend, it may be a 
 day, in making general improvements on such a locality, all 
 this desolation would be prevented ; and it would become a 
 place of delightful resort for young and old, on every conve- 
 nient occasion. Here the children would read lessons on human 
 mortality more impressive than sermons,, because better under- 
 stood. Here the youth would plant flowers, in hope of thl>se 
 amaranthine joys that will never fade or decay. Here the be- 
 reft mother would decorate those little mounds, containing the 
 dear objects she once pressed to her full bosom. What .is so 
 lovely or so impressive, as the sight of a whole family making 
 their pilgrimages to such a place ? Here they experience a kind 
 of mental renovation long manifest in the domestic circle ! 
 Their social afl^ctions receive a fresh impulse, and their mental 
 assiduities more than ever connect them in one indissoluble fel- 
 lowship. If every family of a town would statedly do this, the 
 cemetery would become one of the most efficient handmaids to 
 the pulpit, in the promotion 'of pure religion and social virtue;" 
 and would become, like the Church, the threshold to a better 
 world ! 
 
 Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame 
 Forsake its languid m elaiicholy frame ! 
 Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close, 
 Welcome the dreamless night of long repose ; 
 Soon may this woe-worn spirit seek the bourn 
 Where, luU'd to slumber grief forgets to mimrn 1 
 
 Faults of the head are punished in this world, those of the heart in another 
 
 B 
 

 -^*. 
 
 
■^r- 
 
 .1 
 
 a. 
 
 OQ 
 
 million ; the herring .ten tlTc^eand; the carp a quarter of apQillion ; 
 
 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 A band of hunters were we. AH day long 
 Our feet had traJl'd the woods. The panther fierce, 
 The Bnorting bear, the towering wolf, the deer 
 Swift as our balls, had fallen, as cracVd the shots 
 Of our slim, deadly rifles. 
 
 # 
 
 Emiseation has been led to portions of our Western country 
 by a class of hardy pioneers, called hunters. This was partic- 
 ularly true, some forty or fifty years since, of ^e mountain'ous 
 ^districts in Western Virginia and North Carolina, KentiM^. and 
 Tennessee. These were among the first essaj^ for NPpiing 
 that vast region of the North American continent, including Ihe 
 long range of the AUeghanies and the valleys between them 
 and the Mississippi. Ordinarily, the pioneers pursued their own 
 latitude westward, carrying with them the peculiar social fea- 
 tures of the communities to which they had previously belonged. 
 Hence, the country north of the Ohio was mostly settled by 
 emigrants from New England and the Middle States ;• and that 
 south of the Ohio, by emigrants of the Atlantic States of a 
 corresponding latitude ; each class of ^gmigrants impressing 
 upon the colonies respectively formed byThem its owr^ di|lanc- 
 tive social attribute. The object of the present chapter is to 
 furnish the reader with some details of communities thereformed 
 under the auspices of the hunter ; rude as they may appiar,' 
 they are full of romance, and furnish traits of character which 
 all must admire, even those accustomed to the refinement and 
 elegances of polished society. Such social organizations may 
 at first seem repulsive to the inhabitants of a city ; but on 
 familiar acquaintance with them, they cease to exert such an 
 influence, and are found to possess all«^he essential traits of 
 character we most adAe. Ftor the most of the details the 
 author is, of course,'' in^Bted to those who have had personal 
 experience, or made personal observation. 
 
 The inhabitants of the jgp^tain districts ^^re almost pefectly 
 independent; far more so than in more densely populated 
 communities; -each ^living upon his own means. Many a 
 young man, with Kut a few worldly goods, married, and, with 
 
 When we quarrel witlfoutselves we are sure to Jje the losers. 
 
 — ^-Hl : . 
 
the country. The ovens contain from 40 to 80,000 eggs, and there are 
 
 298 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 ■a 
 t- 
 Eh 
 
 m 
 
 an axe on"*one shoulder, and a rifle on the other, journeyed 
 into the recesses of the mountains, where land then could be 
 had for almost nothing. Here he commenced operations : 
 trees were cut down ; a small clearing was effected ; and in a 
 few days a log cabin, was in readiness for himself and wife. 
 Portions of the time were spent in cultivating the ground, and 
 raising such articles as were needed by themselves. There was 
 no motive to raise more, for it could not be sold, there being 
 no market. The rest of the time was spent in hunting ; going 
 from his cabin now and then five or ten miles, and passing the 
 night with another of these hunters, who, in future time, would 
 return his visit. Thus life was consumed. Such were their 
 habits of social intercourse. 
 
 But let a stranger visit this same locality some thirty odd 
 years afterward in a pleasant day of autumn, and simple as 
 the process has been, he will be surprised at the change. In- 
 stead of meeting the young married couple, entirely by them- 
 selves, save the dogs and pigs, he will find eight or ten of 
 anothe* generation, some grown to the stature of men and 
 women, and all healthy, hardy, and ruddy. Instead of a clear- 
 ing of forty or eighty square rods, there will be as many acres, 
 mostly cultivated, and waving with grass and grain. Instead 
 of the solitary and rude cabin of fifteen feet square, the first 
 architectural specimen on the premises, he will find quite a clus- 
 ter of these cob-house structures, an enlai'ged one for the fam- 
 ily ; and of lesser dimensions one for a corn-bin ; one for bacon ; 
 and one tor the poultry. Besides, there would be one for the 
 horses, and scattered, 9.bout, perhaps half a dozen hay-ricks. 
 Here, too, he would see herds of horned cattle, with immense 
 droves of hogs, plump and sleek, although getting most of their 
 feed roaming at large. True, there would be seen but little of 
 ornament ; but little expenditure for ostentatious display ; but 
 at the same time the most abundant supply for the real wants 
 of every living creature there to be found, whether in human 
 or brute form. 
 
 Having surveyed the externals of the hunter's home, it may 
 be well to enter the dwelling, where he will find the mother and 
 all the younger children, neat and tidy, attired in articles of 
 their own manufacture ; perhaps her own clothes fastened 
 together by buttons, instead of hooks and eyes ; one of the 
 peculiarities of rustic mountain female costume. No one can 
 degy that she looks well and young, considering her previous 
 exTposures and toils. And her grown daughters, with nature's 
 fresh hues and regular proportions, with virtuous modesty and 
 untaught simplicity, to the man of sense, may present attrac- 
 
 Hapi^nesa is not so unequally divided as most persons imagine. 
 
punishments of the other, not unfrequently begin on this side of 
 
 
 THK WESTERN PIONEERS. 299 
 
 tions not witnessed from fashionable artificial training. Here 
 has been no ruinous suppression of the laws regulating animal 
 life ; no false impressions made upon the heart ; no studied 
 effort to beguile and deceive by unnatural and false appearan- 
 ces. And here is the full groundwork for the finest specimens 
 of female excellence. Nothing is wanted but additional mental 
 culture. The house and furniture are exceedingly plain and 
 simple, and, with the exception of what belongs to the cupboard, 
 principally manufactured in the neighborhood. The husband, 
 we will suppose, is absent on a hunting excursion. As before 
 remarked, at certain seasons of the year, what time can be 
 spared from the farm is passed in the excitements of the chase. 
 The skins of the game are sold, and form his cash capital. 
 Being a skillful maiksman, he seldom returns without ample 
 trophies of success. 
 
 Our visitor has barely had opportunity with the internal 
 organizations of the dwelling to become familiar, and to make 
 a little acquaintance with the wife and daughters, when the 
 hunter returns with a buck, or a bear, or some other game. 
 Although fifty years of age, he is still in his prime, stout and 
 athletic ; his countenance well bronzed by exposure, and his 
 frame almost of iron. His dress is in the usual style of hunters, 
 a hunting-shirt of picturesque form, made of homespun, and 
 ornamented with variegated fringe ; and a pair of moccasins on 
 his feet. He receives his guest with a blunt, honest welcome; 
 and as he gives his hand his heart goes with it ; for he looks on 
 every man as his friend, This is natural. Having passed his 
 life among the mountains, in the midst of a simple-hearted peo- 
 ple, who have but little practical knowledge of the deceit which 
 those living among the competitive avocations of society are 
 tempted to practice, he believes and recognizes all who approach 
 him as being honest and disinterested. What a pleasure it is, 
 thus to think of every one about us, instead of being in per- 
 petual apprehension that we are surrounded by knaves and vil- 
 lains ! Dinner is forthwith prepared. A neat white cloth is 
 spread, and soon the table is covered with good things. On it 
 is a plate of hot corn-bread, preserves of various kinds, bacon, 
 venison, and, more than probable, three varieties of meat. His 
 wife pours out a eup of coffee, the great luxury in many such 
 situations, frequently used at every meal ; and thickened with 
 cream — not milk — and sweetened with sugar from the maple- 
 grove just in front of the house. Such fare the traveler fre- 
 quently finds among those early settlers .about the spurs of the 
 AUeghanies; although it is equally true, (that he also has to 
 share in less desirable accommodations^ iAnd it is generally 
 
 5! 
 
 We cannot think too highly of our nature, nor too humbly of ourselves. 
 
toward heaven, will lose all their bitterness and aaltaess, and sweeten 
 
 I 
 
 300 
 
 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 true, that in such districts, there is' a great deficiency of educa- 
 tion. The population is so sparse, the children cannot be col- 
 lected in schools. We were once told by the proprietor of an 
 establishment similar to the above, at which we spent the night, 
 that he would give five hundred dollars to any respectable 
 family settling in his immediate neighborhood, provided one of 
 its members were competent and wiOing to educate his children. 
 Among the localities of which we are speaking the scenery is 
 oftentimes most picturesque and grand. Our traveler, on fin- 
 ishing his dinner, bade all good-bye, mounted his nag, and 
 away he rode. As he descended the mountain path, faintly dis- 
 cerned, because of its winding, breathing the pure and fresh 
 air of the adjacent hills, the eye was met by a most magnificent 
 prospect. The scene was truly impressive, for nature was there 
 in all her glory. Far down the valley to the right was a lovely 
 winding stream; at one point hid by the foliage overarching 
 its bright waters ; at another, it was seen in the more distant 
 clearing ; again it was concealed by the sweep of the mountain 
 he was descending ; and still beyond it seemed diminished to a 
 silvery thread, to the right, and in front, rose a huge eleva- 
 tion, covered with luxuriant verdure, at places curving far into 
 the plain ; and at those points, and at the summits, bathed in a 
 sea of golden liglit — at others, receding, thrown into dark, som- 
 bre, forbidding shades. Beyond were mountains piled on moun- 
 tains, like an uptossed sea of ridges, until they melted away in 
 the distance, and his imagination fancied others still farther on. 
 High in the blue ether ^floated clouds of snowy white, and far 
 above them, in majestic flight, sailed the bird of the mountain, 
 with an air as wild, as free, as the spirit of hberty. Around 
 him everything was rejoicing ; the woods were vocal with the 
 songs of birds; the wild flowers, with scarce the morning 
 dew from ofif .their lips, were opening their bright cheeks to the 
 sun; and even the tiny insects, flitting through the air, seemed 
 to jom m the universal song of praise ! Now fast losing the 
 scene, he entered the dark, solemn forest, densely matted 
 above with vines, almost excluding the light of day. As soon 
 as he reached the mountain's base, and from the copse before 
 him, out darted a deer ! The graceful animal pricked up its 
 ears, distended its nostrils in fear, and, gathering its slender 
 limbs ready for a spring, then bounded away over hillocks and 
 through ravines, and was no more seen ! Our traveler still 
 pursued his course, experiencing a glow of soul not met on 
 board the steamboat, and much less in the railroad car. 
 
 A few years ago, the talented author of the Historical Col- 
 lections of the State of Ohio was traversing the mountain dis- 
 
 Power will intoxicate the best hearts, as wine overpowers the strongest heads 
 
man can possibly possess. Had Charles the First, and Louis Siz- 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 E§ 
 
 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 301 
 
 triots of which we are speaking : he says, " Toward the close of 
 an _ autumnal day, while traveling through a thinly-settled 
 region, I came up with a substantial-looking farmer, leaning on 
 the fence by the road-side. I accompanied him to his house to 
 spend the night. It stood in a field, a quarter of a mile from 
 the road.and was one of the better sort of log dwellings, inas- 
 much as it had two stories, and two or three small windows. 
 In its rear was a small log structure, about fifteen feet square, 
 the weaving-shop. On entering the house, I found a numerous 
 family, all clothed in substantial garments of their own manu- 
 facture. The floor was unadorned by a carpet, and the room 
 devoid of superfluous furniture, yet all that necessity required 
 to make them comfortable. One needs but little experience 
 like this to discover how few are our real wants, how easily 
 most luxuries of dress, equipage, dnd furniture can be dispensed 
 with. ^ After my arrival, two or three chickens were knocked 
 down in the yard, and ere long supper was ready. It con- 
 sisted of chickens, bacon, lioe-cake, and buckwheat cakes. 
 Our beverage was milk, which is here used at all meals, and 
 cofiee thickened with cieam. 
 
 " Soon as it grew dark, my hostess took down a small candle- 
 mould for three candles, hanging from the wall on a frame- 
 work just in front of the firC'place, in company with a rifle, 
 long strings of dried pumpkins, and other articles of household 
 property. With this she run her lights for the evening. On 
 retiring, I was conducted to the room overhead, to which I 
 ascended by stairs out of doors. My bed-fellow was the county 
 sheriff,, a young man of about my age ; and as we lay together, 
 a fine field was had for astronomical observations through the 
 chinks of the logs. On my informing him that this was one of 
 the first log dwellings in which I had ever spent a night, he 
 regarded me with astonishment, and proceeded to enlighten me 
 upon lify in the backwoods, giving me details I could scarcely 
 credit, but which subsequent experience fully verified. The 
 next morning, after rising, I was looking for the washing ap- 
 paratus, when he tapped me on the shoulder as a signal to 
 accompany him to a brook back of the house, in whose pure, 
 crystal waters we performed our morning ablutions, and wiped 
 ourselves dry with a coarse towel. 
 
 " After breakfast, through the persuasion of the sheriff, who 
 appeared to have taken a sort of fancy to me, I agreed to go 
 across the country, by his house. He was on horseback, and I 
 on foot. For six miles, our route was through a pathless forest, 
 on leaving which we passed through the only village in the 
 county, composed of about a dozen houses, mostly log, and a 
 
 a- 
 m 
 "^ 
 
 cr 
 o 
 
 s- 
 
 No man is good enough or wise enough to be trusted with unlimited power. 
 
are pleading for them — ^physicians are prescribing for them — authors 
 
 302 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 J 
 
 ^ 
 
 brick court-house. About a mile beyond, my companion pointed 
 me to a small log structure, as the place where he was initiated 
 into the mysteries of reading and writing. It was what is there 
 called ' an old field school-hojuse ;' an expression originating in 
 the circumstance that these buildings, in the older portions of 
 the state, are erected upon worn-out lands. At length I came 
 to the dwelling of the sheriff. Close by it were about a dozen 
 mountaineers, and several highland lassies, seated around a log 
 corn-bin, twelve feet square, ten feet high, and open at the top ; 
 into which these neighbors of my companion were casting ears 
 of corn, as fast as they could husk them. Right merrily did 
 they perform the task. The men were large and hardy— rthe 
 damsels plump and rosy; dressed in good, warm, homespun 
 garments. 
 
 " The sheriff informed me that he owned about two thousand 
 acres of land around his dwelling, and that its whole value was 
 about one thousand dollars, or fifty cents per acre ! I entered 
 his house, which was of logs, one story in height, about twenty 
 feet square, and divided into two small rooms, without any win- 
 dows or openings for them, and no place to let in light, exeept 
 by a door in the front, and one in the rear. I soon partook of a 
 meal, in which we had quite a variety of luxuries, among which 
 was bear's meat. After supper all drew around the fire, the 
 light of which was the only one we had. Hunting stories, and 
 kindred topics, served to talk down the hours, till bed-time. 
 There were in the room two beds. One was occupied by a 
 married couple, the other by myself; but there was no curtain 
 between." 
 
 In the morning, our literary itinerant found himself in an unu- 
 sual position. On awaking, there was a rousing fire in his bed- 
 room, and the better half of the shenEF, with a female attendant, 
 busily engaged in cooking breakfast. Also, about the fire, were 
 three full-grown persons of the male gender, carefully watching 
 the process. All seemed to think of nothing but their own 
 business, and their guest was left to emerge from his night 
 panoply, and steal a passage into his unmentionables, in the way 
 he might choose. To a Coelebs of twenty-six, from one of the 
 most fashionable cities in New England, born and reared under 
 the droppings of a distinguished university, here was a poser. 
 Fortunately for him, it is the ready instinct of a Yankee toac- 
 commodate himself to circumstances. He was speedily in his 
 traveling costume, and one of his morning sentinels went to a' 
 neighboring spring, and procured a pitcher of water, which' was 
 poured piecemeal into his hands, for customary cleansino-. After 
 breakfast, he bade the sheriff farewell ; who, in return, declined 
 
 Most men know well what they hate, but few know what they love. 
 
■where there are no Europeans, than in Tranquebar, where thej 
 
 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 303 
 
 2 
 p. 
 
 u 
 
 V 
 
 I 
 
 ■a 
 
 a 
 
 .s 
 
 I 
 
 remuneration, and requested him to call again. Our hero shall 
 be allowed to tell the remainder of bis own story. 
 
 " In the course of two hours, I came to a cabin by the way- 
 side. There being no gate, I sprang over the fence, entered the 
 open door, and was received with a hearty welcome. It was an 
 bumble dwelling, the abode of poverty. Th«re was a neatness 
 in the arrangement of the few articles of furniture extremely 
 pleasing. In a corner stood two beds ; one hung with curtains, 
 and both spread with coverlets of snowy white. Around a 
 cheerful fire was seated an interesting family group. In one 
 corner, on the hearth, sat the mother, who bad given up her 
 chair to me, smoking a pipe. Next to her was a little girl, in a 
 little chair, holding a kitten. In the opposite corner sat the 
 father, a venerable old man, of Herculean stature, robed in a 
 hunting-shirt, and with a countenance as majestic and impressive 
 as a Roman senator. In the centre of the group was a young 
 maiden, about eighteen — modest and retiring, not beautiful, ex- 
 cept that moral beauty virtue gives. She was reading to them 
 from .a little book. She was the only one in the family who 
 could read, and she could do so but imperfectly. In that book, 
 which cost, perhaps, two shillings, was the whole secret of the 
 neatness and happiness found in this lowly cot. That little 
 book was the New Testament ! 
 
 " I conversed with the father. He was, he said, a poor moun- 
 taineer, ignorant of the world. He was, it is true — but he had 
 the independence of a man, and the humility of a Christian. 
 I left the cottage with buoyant feelings, reflecting upon the beau^ 
 tiful exhibition- of the religion of the meek and lowly One. How 
 exquisite are these lines, as applied to a similar case : — 
 
 Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride. 
 
 In all the pomp of method and of art, 
 When men display to congregations wide 
 
 Devotion's every grace, except the heart. 
 But happy we, in some cot far apart. 
 
 May hear, well pleased, the language of the soUl." 
 
 The persons usually termed hunters, or pioneer settlers of the 
 mountain regions of our country, this side of the Mississippi, 
 were by no means destitute of social lineaments of great excel- 
 lence. Rough and unpolished as sometimes may have been the 
 exterior, they possessed a heart responsive in no ordinary de- 
 gree to the language of friendship and love. Virtuous penury 
 and destitution were sure to call forth their active sympathies ; 
 and they would even relinquish their own couch, that the weary 
 
 Humab foresight often leaves its proudest possessor only a choice of evils. 
 
ie false. It requires more taagnanimity to give up what is 
 
 304 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 travder might have rest and sleep. Nor has it been rare to 
 find in their humble dwellings the genuine spirit of , religion. 
 The self-denying missionaries, that spend their lives in canvass- 
 ing the rough places of their Master's heritage, like faithful 
 shepherds, never neglect the scattered lambs of their Master's 
 fold. In every mountain path one may trace theii- footst^ps^ 
 and find evidence of their ceaseless fidelity. The settlements 
 of which we are speaking are gradually losing their original 
 features, and are assimilating to others begun under more favor- 
 able auspices. The circumstances of the country do not now 
 admit of such isolated organizations, east of the great Missis- 
 sippi Valley ; and those, therefore, who cherish a passion for 
 such a life, must go still farther west. This multitudes have 
 done, and still are doing ; extending their migratory excursions 
 to the Rocky Mountains, and even to the greSt Pacific. In this 
 way they will ultimately accomplish, in those distant regions, 
 what others, with a less romantic spirit, have accomplished-, 
 about the AUeghanies. Speaking of these men, Judge Hall 
 says, " There is no page in the history of our country more sur- 
 prising, or richer in the romance of real life, than that which de- 
 picts the adventures and perils of the traders and trappers in 
 the wilderness beyond the Western frontier. Leaving St. Loviis 
 in large parties, well mounted and armed, they go forth with 
 the cheerfulness of men in pursuit of pleasure. Yet their whole 
 lives are full of danger, privation, and hardship. Crossing the 
 wide prairies, and directing their steps to the Rocky Mountains, 
 they remain months, and even years, in those savage wilds, liv- 
 ing in the open air, without shelter-; with no food but such game 
 as the wilderness affords, eaten without bread or salt; setting 
 their traps for beaver and otter, in the mountain streams, and 
 fighting continually with the grizzly bear and the Indian. Their 
 lives are a long series of warfare and watching, of privatiofl and 
 danger. These daring men secure to us the fur trade, while 
 they explore the unknown regions beyond our borders, and are 
 the pioneers in the expansion of our territory." 
 
 A termination to the present article cannot be given more 
 appropriate, than a sketch of the life of Daniel Boone, who 
 may be called the prince of American hunters, being one of the 
 first adventurers into the wilds of Kentucky. He was born in 
 Virginia, and almost from his infancy was addicted to hunting 
 in the woods. He emigrated, early to North Carolina, then 
 recently settled. Having deteimined to cross the wilderness 
 bordering on the Cumberland Mountains, in quest of the region 
 of Kentucky, then little known, he set out on his expedition, , 
 with five companions. May 1, 1769. They arrived at Red 
 
 Dreams produce no conviction whatever on phllospphic minds. 
 
exists it contains -within itself the seeds of its own destruo- 
 
 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 305 
 
 River, north of the Kentucky, June 1. A short time after- 
 ward, Boone and one of his companions, John Stewart, were 
 captured by a party of savages. They soon escaped, but 
 could discover no traces of their friends, who had returned 
 home. Boone and Stewart would have been constrained to 
 follow them, had not Squire Boone, the brother of Daniel, 
 pursued their track from North Carolina, and relieved them 
 with necessaries. Shortly after, Stewart was killed by the 
 Indians, and the two Boones were left the only white men in the 
 wilderness. They passed the winter in a cabin. 
 
 In May of 1770, Boone's brother returned home; but in 
 July came back according to agreement. They then traversed 
 the country to the Cumberland River, and the following year 
 returned to their families, with a determination of removing 
 with them to Kentucky. In September, 1773, Daniel Boone 
 commenced his removal to Kentucky, with his own, and five 
 other families, and was joined by forty men, who placed them- 
 selves under his guidance. Being attacked by the Indians, six 
 of his men were slain, and the cattle belonging to the party dis- 
 persed. The survivors returned, in consequence, to the settle- 
 ments on Clinch River, about forty miles from the scene of action. 
 A company in' North Carolina, having formed a plan of purchas- 
 ing the lands on the south side of the Kentucky River from 
 the Southern Indians, employed Boone to buy a tract of coun- 
 try, the limits of which were described to him. He performed 
 the service, and soon after made a road from the settlements on 
 the Holston to the Kentucky River, notwithstanding the inces- 
 sant attacks of the Indians, in which four of his men were 
 killed, and five were wounded. In April, 1775, he built a fort 
 at Salt Spring, on the southern branch of the Kentucky, where 
 Boonesborough is now situated. It consisted of a block-house 
 and several cabins, enclosed with palisades. In 1777 he sus- 
 tained two sieges in Boonesborough from the Indians, but re- 
 pulsed them. In the following year, however, February 7, 
 Boone was taken prisoner by the savages, while hunting, with a 
 number of his men. In May they were conducted to Detroit, 
 where they experienced great kindness from Governor Hamil- 
 ton, the British commander at that post. He even oflfered the 
 Indians one hundred pounds for their prisoner, in order that he 
 might liberate him on patrole, but they would not part with 
 him, having conceived for him sentiments of great affection and 
 respect. On his return, he was adopted by one of the princi- 
 pal chiefs at Chilicothe, and might have been happy in this 
 situation, had not the thoughts of his wife and children contin- 
 ually kept alive the desire of escape. This he effected one 
 
 Women generally consider consequences in love, seldom in resentment. 
 
gall and pioch us ; but if too large, they will cause us to stumble and 
 
 306 THE WESTERN PIONEERS. 
 
 .3 
 
 
 morning, having risen at the usual hunting hotir, and departed, 
 apparently for the woods, but in reality for Boonesborough. 
 He arrived there on the 20th of June, after a journey of one 
 hundred and sixty miles, which he performed in four days, hav- 
 ing eaten, it is said, but one meal during that time. 
 
 On the 8th of/ August, a body of savages, to the number of 
 four hundred and fifty, commanded by Canadian Frenchmen 
 and some of their own chiefs, invested the fort with British col- 
 ors flying. Boone was summoned to surrender, but announced 
 his determination, and that of the garrison, who amounted to 
 but fifty men, to defend the fort as long as a man of them was 
 alive. The enemy then resolved to obtain it by stratagem, and 
 requested that nine of the principal persons of the garrison 
 would come out and treat with them, promising terms so favor- 
 able that the invitation was accepted. After the articles of the 
 treaty had been signed, Boone and his companions were told it 
 was customary, upon such occasions, among the Indians, for 
 two of them to shake each white man by the hand, in order to 
 evince the sincerity of their friendship. This was also agreed 
 to ; and accordingly, two Indians approached each of the nine, 
 and taking his hand, grappled him, with the intent of making 
 him prisoner. Their object being then immediately perceived, 
 Boone and his party extricated themselves, and retreated into 
 the fort, amid a heavy fire from the savages. An attack was 
 then quickly commenced, and continued until the 20th of 
 August, when the enemy abandoned the siege. This was the 
 last attempt of the Indians to possess themselves of Boones- 
 borough. 
 
 In October, as Boone was returning from the Blue Licks, 
 with his brother, the latter was slain, and Boone pursued by a 
 party of Indians for three miles, by the aid of a dog ; but, hav- 
 ing killed the animal, he escaped. In 1'782, the depredations 
 of the savages increasing to an intolerable extent, Boone, with 
 other militia officers, collected one hundred and seventy-six men, 
 and went in pursuit of a large body, who had marched beyond 
 the Blue' Licks to a bend of the main fork of the Licking 
 River, forty miles from Lexington. On August 19, they over- 
 took them, but, being much inferior in numbers, were obliged 
 to retreat. General Clark, then at the falls of the Ohio, iratne- 
 diately assembled a considerable number of men, and com- 
 menced the pursuit of the savages, accompanied by Boone. 
 
 From that time until 1798, Boone resided alternately in Ken- 
 tucky and Virginia. In that year he removed to Upper Lou- 
 isiana, where he received a grant from the Spanish authorities 
 of two thousand acres of land. His children, friends, and fol- 
 
 TTninterrupted success in business shows us but one side of the world. 
 
whcQ oSygcn is supplied. Tlie total weight of fruit in ripening is very 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 
 
 307 
 
 ■g- 
 
 5> 
 
 .e 
 
 lowers were also presented with eight hundred acres each. 
 He settled with them on the Missouri River, at Charette, some 
 distance beyond the inhabited parts of the country, where he fol- 
 lowed his usual course of life — hunting, and trapping for bears 
 — until September, 1822, when he died at the residence of his 
 son. Major A. Boone, in Montgomery County, in the eighty- 
 fifth year of his age. He had been gradually declining for 
 some years previous to his decease-. It is related, that some 
 time before that event, he had two coffins made out of a favor- 
 ite cherry-tree, the first of which not fitting, he gave to a son- 
 in-law ; in the second he was buried, having bestowed on it a 
 fine polish by a course of rubbing for several years. His sons 
 and daughters still reside in Missouri. 
 
 In vain malignant streams and winter fogs 
 
 Load the dull air, and hover round our coasts ; 
 
 The huntsman, ever gay, robust, and bold, 
 
 Defies the noxious vapor, and confides 
 
 In this delightful exercise to raise 
 
 His drooping head, and cheer his heart with joy. 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 
 
 I hear the tread of pioneers 
 
 Of nations yet to be. 
 The first low wash of waves where soon 
 
 Shall roll a human sea. 
 
 It is one of the natural feelings of which we all, more or less, 
 partake, that our paternal domicil be held in perpetuity. These 
 feelings are not to be condemned or discouraged. They are 
 important in the social interchanges of life. Without them, man 
 would possess less than he now does of those mental affinities 
 which bind the species in successful effort for the attainment of 
 fundamental purposes connected with his existence. Attach- 
 ment to the household, amid which one was born, has been can- 
 onized as an inspiration of heaven. This attachment, thus 
 viewed, embraces, of course, all the members of the household, 
 individually and eollectively ; all their separate and united inter- 
 ests ; all their peculiar habits and modes of intellectual and 
 moral development, although in the number may be unamiable 
 eccentricities ; and even the dust on which they may have trod ; 
 
 When men of sense approve, the multitude will follow in their wake. 
 
year a new ring of vessels is formed around the preceding; bo that ths- 
 
 308 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTa. 
 
 f 
 
 ■3 
 
 'Ck 
 o 
 
 ;S 
 
 •a 
 w 
 
 the foliage that may have fanned or sheltered them ; the gurg- 
 ling streams, on which they may have quaffed, and from which 
 received ablutions. Who would weaken such attachments ? 
 Much less, who would banish them from the catalogue of human 
 physiological science ? 
 
 Next akin to the passion of which we have so spoken is patri- 
 otism, or the love of country. The latter is essentially an ex- 
 pansion of the former. One is confined to the circle embracing 
 a definite number of individuals of the same consanguinity. The 
 other reaches to an indefinite number of those circles, exercising 
 corresponding aflSnity toward what they esteem their common 
 country. As the father loves his own household and domain, 
 and all that pertains to it, so does the patriot love his native 
 land, with all it contains ; its broad rivers ; its high mountains; 
 its verdant lawns ; its waving forests ; and, especially, its laws, 
 its religion, its churches, and its institutions of learning. As the 
 father and all his household instinctively array themselves for 
 the interests and the honor of the family circle, so do the several 
 family circles constituting a larger community instinctively array 
 themselves for the protection of the honor and welfare thus 
 held by them in joint compact. And the individual that can 
 forsake the fireside and the family altar where he was born ; the 
 town, or the village, or the city, in which that fireside and altar 
 are situated — or the state of which that town, village, or city, is 
 a, portion — and not experience emotions of pain, regrets and 
 lingerings of soul, almost inducing him to retrace his steps, is a 
 mere automaton of humanity ! The Western emigrant, whether 
 the solitary young man, bidding adieu to his own dear and near- 
 est kindred, or the entire family, bidding adieu to kind neighbors 
 and all the rural scenes of early life, can well testify of the men- 
 tal anguish then felt ! 
 
 A painter would be furnished with materials for the highest 
 professional gifts ever vouchsafed to the pencil, in sketching the 
 sundering of such ties as characterizes an occasion like the one 
 to which we allude. For a moment let us glance at those ma- 
 terials. Let the individuals, participating in the event, be duly 
 arranged on canvas. Oftentimes here would be seen the repre- 
 sentatives of three separate generations : in bold relief, hale man- 
 hood in its prime ; on the one side, trembling old age, with its 
 hoary locks; on the other side, helpless infancy and childhood, 
 with its prattle ! Let us suppose a young man just reaching 
 his majority, no matter whether in the Bay State or on the 
 cold granite hills, impelled by a kind of necessity to see better 
 prospects for a living, in the fertile regions of the illimitable 
 West. Months are spent in preparation. Home-made apparel 
 
 Success often sanctions the wildest schemes of human ambition. 
 
raw onions in his pocket, and a crust of bread or a bit of cake , 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 309 
 
 is provided for a two years' campaign, at least. For this outfit, 
 a fond mother and kind sisters have been assiduously occupied- 
 Nor is this all ;" a thousand miles are to be traversed on foot. 
 This is the way emigrants formerly went westward. To those 
 gone-by days we allude. To prevent expenditure on the road, 
 a traveler locker was provided, duly filled with rural life eatar 
 bles. By this means he was able to accomplish a journey of 
 forty days, with a cash outlay barely sufficient to procure, at 
 this time, supper, lodging, and breakfast, at a fashionable rail- 
 road hotel, in Connecticut. So times have altered ! 
 
 Well, as the period for the departure of our young friend ap- 
 proached, he would experience some inward struggles before 
 unknown to him. When the intervening season was estimated 
 by months, these struggles were perhaps feeble ; but when it 
 was fritted away to weeks or to days, there would be such a 
 swelling and rising of the heart, as if be were experiencing a 
 dyspeptic agony. But time, like a heartless tyrant, little regard- 
 ing his convenience or mental conflicts, sped on, and all his trav- 
 eling equipments were rendered complete. In manual labor, 
 there was now, indeed, a pause ; when the social attributes of 
 our nature might be exhibited in all their electrifying beauty. 
 The last sunset scene, prior to his departure, passed away with 
 unwonted mementoes of sadness. Ray after ray failed to im- 
 part its genial influence, till nothing remained but the mellowed 
 shades of twilight. Never before did such pensive thoughts 
 cluster over him. An evening and a morning remained to him, 
 in which to tear himself from the most precious treasures of 
 earth. To do this with becoming dignity, at that time required 
 a climax of moral courage rarely needed; for then, going a 
 thousand miles into the wilderness was more appalling to human 
 equanimity, than starting, at the present day, on a trip to the 
 planet Jupiter. 
 
 The dead calm of a dark evening augmented the inward pres- 
 sure upon his soul. He was with a neighboring friend — nay, 
 more than a friend — for they had mutually loved each other al- 
 most from childhood ! Words were few ; but pulsations quick 
 and strong were more eloquent, than human speech, and made 
 record of unfailing fidelity. Wlien the last salutation was ex- 
 changed, he returned to the paternal mansion. It was a late 
 hour, but all were waiting once more to give him looks of kind- 
 ness. Eetirement, but not sleep, succeeded ; and quickly, as it 
 were, the morning light gave signal for an early breakfast. It 
 only deserved the name of breakfast. All the formalities for 
 such a repast were verily there ; yet, the disposition for eating 
 was as feeble as a disposition for sleeping— the fragments being 
 
 I 
 
 If virtue slumbers on her post, vUlany will be more than a match for her. 
 
from it, besides the advantages of its keeping the whole year 
 
 310 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 
 
 BO 
 
 a 
 
 & 
 
 -a 
 
 ^ 
 
 equal to the articles provided. The social appendages were also 
 in abundance. At the moment of departure words might have 
 been few, and they only half uttered. NeverS&eless, who can 
 tell what scalding tears, from a beloved mother and sisters, fell 
 upon him, to be remembered for a score of years, like electric 
 shocks ! His slowly-receding steps were duly noted, and their 
 eye followed his apparently diminished stature till entirely lost in 
 the distance ! 
 
 Thousands and tens of thousands of young men, in some man- 
 ner similar to this, have, Jn our country, wrested themselves 
 from the associations of early life, and planted themselvesjn un- 
 cultured regions, encountering toils and privations that seem 
 more like romance than real life. Under such indomitable ener- 
 gies and perseverance as characterize our countrymen, tree after 
 tree has fallen, till the wilderness and desert have become 
 fruitful fields, rewarding their owners with competence and 
 wealth. Tracts of our country, almost immeasurable, lain waste, 
 so far as we know, from the dawn of creation, have been re- 
 claimed, and are hereafter to be the paradise of the world ; 
 giving, an amount of wholesome sustenance and social comfort 
 nowhere else known. Those primarily engaged in such enter- 
 prises were ordained for one of the highest and most honorable 
 destinies designed by God for man ! In the history of the world, 
 princes, in importance, are like puppets, and warriors are like 
 wild beasts, compared with such men ! The retrospect of the 
 one, through the immeasurable future, will cause the soul to 
 swell, in the majesty of its energy, and in the raptures of benev- 
 olent fervor ; while the retrospect of the other will furnish naught 
 but the elements of humiliation and anguish ! 
 
 A vast deal has already been accomplished in our hemisphere. 
 Not less remains to be accomplished. As it were, the eastern 
 margin of it alone has been subdued. The remaining portions 
 of it will be required for the support of an increased population. 
 Multitudes of the hungry and starving inhabitants of the Old 
 World are rolling in upon us like successive floods. In part, to 
 give place to them, not a few of those now occupying the bor- 
 ders of the Atlantic, will follow their brethren, not only across 
 the Alleghanies into the valley east of the broad Mississippi, 
 but still onward, to, and over those other majestic heights 
 whence the Pacific rises into view. And the former, being 
 joined by portions of the latter, will carry with them a phalanx 
 of moral, intellectual, and physical power, overcoming all oppo- 
 sition, and producing the most extraordinary results. Another 
 century is to be spent in efforts and labois similar to those 
 which have, in the one gone by, given character to the Ameri- 
 
 The rich feel the impotence of wealth only when 4hey are sick. 
 
as at t\renty ; three times as long as at thirty ; four times 
 
 advice; to western emigrants. 3x1 
 
 can name. Calculations are indeed formed of the millions of 
 human heings that may then live on the northern section of the 
 American* continent, and of the political organizations that may 
 affect their welfare ; but even the imagination would probably 
 be incompetent to fathom the social progress that will have then 
 been made; the magnificence that will then be exhibited in hu- 
 man habitations, in furniture, in pnblic architecture, and in all 
 manner of costly investment and equipage. Possibly, from 
 some present indications, silver will then be so abundant, that, 
 made into family utensils, it, will be deemed fit only for the 
 poor; and, that gold will then be so abundant, as to be used as 
 freely as brass is now used. What a conception! If so, the 
 dreams of our ardent visionaries may verily become realities ; 
 but will be found, like all dreams, to be as unsatisfying and 
 empty as the wind, if not full of vexation of spirit. 
 
 In such enterprises, skill, and toil, and privation, will be re- 
 quired, in a measure possessed by none save ourselves. The 
 Anglo-Saxon race, with a discipline of two hundred years, 
 hitherto afforded them in Yankeedom, are the persons to engage 
 in these enterprises. It is therefore in reference to the efforts 
 and labors to be brought into requisition the present remarks 
 are made. While appreciating to the utmost limits the social 
 inducements to gather round the localities endeared to us by 
 paternal and maternal recollections, and at last to mingle our 
 own dust with the dust of kindred in generations that are gone, 
 it is a paramount duty, under certain circumstances, to forego 
 these cherished aspirations of the soul, and to go forth and re- 
 claim the waste places of the earth, scattering along our path 
 the impressions of useful art in all its multitudinous forms, and 
 raising upon a broad and imperishable foundation the institu- 
 tions of freedom, science, and religion. It was to accomplish 
 such expansive views, four thousand years ago, that the inhab- 
 itants of Babel were interrupted in their selfish designs, and 
 were driven asunder to regions remote and unknown. It was 
 to accomplish such views that their language was confounded, 
 and the ruins of their tower remained a monument of the Di- 
 vine displeasure to all succeeding time. And if men were now 
 in like manner to congregate to the neglect of those more en- 
 larged duties that devolve on them as citizens of the world, 
 they may in like manner become objects of the Divine displeas- 
 ure. They might be cursed with famine ; they might be smit- 
 ten with pestilence and death ! 
 
 In making emigrations, it is important to move in colonies of 
 five to fifty families, in a company, as may be found convenient. 
 Such a company, consisting of relations and neighbors, would, 
 
 The abuse of our enemies injure us leas than the injudieioua praise of friends. 
 
tions, as the rotation of the earth, the swing of a pendulum, the 
 
 312 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 
 
 
 to- a gr^at extent, neutralize the social regrets at leaving former 
 habitations. And journeying together a thousand miles, and 
 then settling together, would lead to intimacies and mental 
 similitudes nev«r before experienced, and that would continue 
 in all their vigor through life. And in arranging such colonies, 
 it is vastly important that there should be a physician — a young 
 man of merit might always be had ; and there should be at 
 least one from each of the trades, for the useful and more im- 
 portant mechanic arts — to wit, a carpenter, a mason, a black- 
 smith, a wheelwright, a shoemaker, and so on. Nor should 
 they go without a competent teacher for their children; and, 
 above all, a clergyman, to preserve to them in all their fresh- 
 ness the institutions of religion. It would be very easy, ordi- 
 narily, to enlist a family that has a son or daughter competent 
 to be a teacher. By such arrangements the social endearments 
 of life are continued. Its useful occupations are maintained 
 among them for the common benefit. Of the various family 
 comforts, there will be no permanent destitution. Health will 
 be subjected to no hopeless perils. The food of the mind will 
 be fresh and abundant. Morals will be furnished with all 
 usual safeguards ; and there will be no bligliting of heavenly 
 hopes for want of spiritual sustenance. In this way many of 
 our first American ancestors crossed the Atlantic, and planted 
 themselves in the wilderness of the Western world ; and, in this 
 way, emigrations should always be made. 
 
 Every family removing into a country that is new, and not 
 easily supplied with such articles, should be furnished with a 
 small medicine-chest, containing what is most frequently used 
 in cases of indisposition. Not less in>portant is a good Book 
 of Health, or family prescriptions and advice in relation to the 
 preservation of health. By such a precaution, every family is 
 in a measure prepared to take care of themselves ; to be their 
 own doctors. To be sure, in no instance where a physician can 
 be conveniently had, should he be n^lected, provided any 
 urgent necessity exist. In all ordinary cases of indisposition, 
 the mother of a family of children may become one of the very 
 best family doctors. She is familiar with their constitutions and 
 their habits ; also with the progress of any ailment attending 
 them from its inception; and can, of course, best judge the 
 necessity for medicine. In fevers and other acute diseases, as 
 well as in those of subtle, lingering character, a regular prac- 
 titioner should always be sought. An excess of medicine is 
 believed to be ruinous to health ; in its operation, it is analogous 
 to an excess or unnecessary use of ordinary stimulants. When 
 medicine is rarely taken, a small portion will produce the de. 
 
 War is a game in which rulers seldom derive profit, and the people never. 
 
according to Smeaton, ib equal to one horse. In some kinds of 
 
 ADVICE TO WESTERN EMIGRANTS. 313 
 
 5 
 to 
 
 fo 
 
 ■3 
 § 
 
 o 
 
 13 
 
 
 sirod result ; but the quantity used must be increased in pro- 
 portion to the frequency of apphcation. 
 
 Prudent housekeepers also, when emigrating to a new coun- 
 try, will be careful to provide an ample stock of all small, cheap 
 articles, for every-day family consumption. Of this descrip- 
 tion are pins, needles, thread, sewing silk, tape, twine, yarn ; 
 and, indeed, everything so frequently needed, occupying so ht- 
 tle space, and costing so small a sum compared with the advan- 
 tages of always having them on hand. The same may be said 
 in regard to a corresponding class of articles needed in the 
 tool-shop, as gimblets, awls, augurs, hammers, hatchets, pin- 
 cers, files, and saws. The expense of an outfit of such imple- 
 ments, sufficient for years, will not be great ; and this may be 
 saved ten times over in the convenience of always having them 
 in readiness for use. These specifications will suggest to per- 
 sons other articles of equal importance. Oftentimes in the 
 family and on the farm, half of one person's time is half lost for 
 the want of suitable tools and implements with which to do 
 woi k, and of materials needed for use in doing it. 
 
 And, after the sustaining of life, of more importance, seem- 
 ingly, than everything else in a new country, is an ample stock 
 of food for the mind. Individuals and families going thither, 
 should always carry this with them. Without it children may 
 grow up in ignorance, and their fathers may acquire types of 
 character at a great distance from respectability. In old set- 
 tlements, where there is a dense population, with libraries, and 
 schools, and churches, and newspapers, there is always oppor- 
 tunity for intellectual improvement, which knswer the double 
 purpose of giving occupation to persons when not engaged in 
 labor, to prevent idle and dissipated habits, and also to fill the 
 mind with useful knowledge. But if you go into a wilderness 
 only ten or five miles, where these do not exist, how many occa- 
 sions will there be in which the want of them will be severely 
 felt ! Under such privations, what will be found for occupation, 
 and to make persons forget their lonely solitude ? If they had 
 books, and a taste to use them, there would scarcely be felt a 
 lack of society. Cheap as books now are, ten or twenty dol- 
 lars judiciously invested in them would provide a tolerable sub- 
 stitute, at least for a time, for the social organizations with 
 which they had hitherto been conversant. Besides, many per- 
 sons without a natural taste for books and study, would here 
 be induced, by a kind of necessity, if such means were at hand, 
 to create one, and lay the foundation for mental distinction. 
 When a disposition for reading and study is once acquired, 
 rarely will the habit to which it leads be abandoned. Even if 
 
 Without frugality none can be rich, and with it few would be poor. 
 
yourself? Thouaands have injured themselves by resorting 
 
 314 A FAMILY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 p. 
 
 d 
 
 there are no schools, with suitable books, the parents may give 
 their children a decent education ; and they vsrill, at the same 
 time, learn as much themselves as the children. Professed 
 teachers usually derive as much advantage from their labors as 
 their pupils do. And if families are out of the reach of news- 
 papers and the current literature of the day, if provided with 
 books, they may become familiar with history, biography, and 
 general literature. 
 
 Let us depart t the universal sun 
 Confines not to one land bis blessed beams ; 
 Nor is man rooted, like a tree, -whose seed 
 The winds or some ungenial soil have cast 
 There, where it cannot prosper. 
 
 A FAMILY IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 An axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades. 
 Which from creation toward the skies had towered 
 
 ^ In unshorn beauty. There, with vigorous arm, 
 
 Wrought a bold emigrant, and by his side 
 His little sontwith question and response 
 Beguiled the%il. 
 
 «f' " Boy, thou hast never seen 
 Such glorious trees. Hark, when their giant trunks 
 Fall, how the firm earth groans ! Reraeraberest thou 
 The mighty river, on whose breast we sailed 
 So many days, on toward the setting sun ? 
 Our own Connecticut, compared to that. 
 Was but a creeping stream." 
 
 " Father, the brook 
 That by our door went singing, whei-e I launched 
 My tiny boat, with my young playmates round, 
 
 I When school was o'er, is dearer far to me 
 
 Than all these bold broad waters. To my eye 
 They are as strangers. And those little trees 
 My mother nurtured in the garden bound 
 Of our first home, from whence the fragrant peach 
 Hung in its ripening gold, were fairer, sure, 
 Than this dark forest, shutting out the day." 
 
 To mourn without measure is folly ; not to mourn at all, insensibility. 
 
eg 
 
 Cl, 
 
 13 
 
 Ph 
 
 a reputable share of practice, must have riJ the world, rather 
 
 A FAMILY IN THE WILDERNESS. 315 
 
 -" What, ho ! — ^my little girl ;" and with light step 
 
 A fairy creature hasted toward her sire, 
 y> And, setting down the basket that contained 
 
 ■g His noon's repast, looked upward to his face "^ 
 
 With sweet, confiding smile. | 
 
 " See, dearest, see, 
 1 That bright-winged paroquet, and hear the song 
 
 " Of yon gay red-bird, echoing through the trees. 
 
 Making rich music. Didst thou ever hear, 
 
 In far New England, such a mellow tone ?" 
 
 " 1 had a robin, that did take the crumbs 
 
 Each night and morning, and his chirping voice 
 
 Did make me joyful,' as I went to tend 
 
 My snow-drops. I was always laughing then 
 i In that first home. I should be happier now, 
 
 ^ Methinks, if I could find among these dells 
 
 The same fresh violets." 
 
 Slow night drew on, 
 
 And round the rude hut of the emigrant 
 
 The wrathful spirit of the rising storm 
 
 Spake bitter things. His weary children slept. 
 
 And he, with head reclined, sat listening long 
 
 To the swol'n waters of the Illinois, 
 
 Dashing against their shores. 
 
 Starting, he spake — 5 
 
 " Wife ! did I see thee brush away a tear ? |^ 
 
 'Twas even so. Thy lieart was with the halls - 
 
 Of thy nativity. Their sparkling lights. 
 
 Carpets, and sofas, and admiring guests, 
 ^" Befit thee better than these rugged walls 
 
 Of shapeless logs, and this lone, hermit home." 
 
 " No — no. All was so still around, methought 
 
 Upon mine ear that echoed hymn did steal. 
 
 Which 'mid the church, where erst we paid our vows, 
 1 So tuneful pealed. But tenderly thy voice 
 
 ,<« Dissolved the illusion." 
 
 And the gentle smile 
 
 Lighting her brow, the fond caress that soothed 
 
 Her waking infant, reassured his soul 
 
 That, wheresoe'er our best affections dwell 
 .<) And strike a healthful root, is happiness. 
 
 Content, and placid, to his rest he sank ; 
 
 But dreams, those wild magicians, that do play 
 
 Such pranks when reason slumbers, tireless wrought 
 
 Their will with him. 
 
 e. 
 
 He bath riches sufficient, who hath enough to be charitable. 
 
several weeks together, without selliog goods to the amount 
 
 316 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 
 
 P? 
 
 Up rose the thronging mart 
 Of his own native city — roof and spire, 
 All glittering bright, in fancy's frost-work ray. 
 The steed his boyhood nurtured proudly neighed, 
 The favorite dog came frisking round his feet 
 With shrill arid joyous bark — familiar doors 
 Flevir open — greeting hands with his were linked 
 In friendship's grasp — he heard the keen debate 
 From congregated haunts, where mind with mind 
 Doth blend and brighten — and till morning moved 
 'Mid the loved scenery of his native land. 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH- 
 
 Here the free spirit of mankind, at length 
 Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place 
 A limit to the giant's unchained strength, 
 Or curb his swiftness iu the forward race ? 
 Far, like the comet's way through infinite space. 
 Stretches the long untraveled path of light 
 Into tlie depth of ages; we may trace, 
 Afar, the brightening glory of its flight, 
 Till the receding rays are lost to human sight. 
 
 Formerly the term West, as applied to a district of our coun- 
 try, was very limited in its signification to what it now is. It 
 denoted particularly the district of territory between the Alle- 
 ghany Mountains and the Mississippi River, and between the 
 Ohio River and the great kkes on the north. This, to our 
 fathers and some of that generation now surviving, was a region 
 distant in the imagination, like another continent, and separated 
 from us by barriers more repulsive than the ocean itself. The 
 few indomitable spirits that first scaled those barriers and meas- 
 ured that appalling distance, plunging into a dense wilderness, 
 filled with savages more fierce and cruel than the most untamed 
 brute tenants of the forest, have immortalized their names for 
 bold enterprise, for feats of daring intrepidity, and for perils 
 and privations, which have merited and secured the most hon- 
 ored niche in the page of history, of song, and of the more dig- 
 nified and durable epic. 
 
 He will not want time for his duty, that does not want a heart for it. 
 
tappen by an unlucky turn that you should come into the 
 
 .2 
 
 M 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 317 
 
 At the present day, ^n overland journey to California is not 
 attended with the frightful dreams of suffering, nor with a 
 tenth part of the time spent in preparation, that was then 
 mseparable from an emigration to the valleys of the Muskingum 
 and the Scioto. In the former case, the pioneers, on reaching 
 the point of destination, are surrounded by'old friends and gush- 
 ing hearts, every day commingling sympathies, congratulations, 
 and assiduities. Not thus was it with those who first crossed 
 the Alleghanies. On reaching their point of destination, they 
 were comparatively alone. People did not then emigrate in such 
 dense masses. The waves of population did not then roll in such 
 rapid succession. After one family removed, the neighbors and 
 friends would wait for a long time, in trembling anxiety, before 
 they dared to follow. And, not unfrequently, the first family of 
 emigrants, for a quintuple of years, was, as it were, in posses- 
 sion of no previous social enjoyment, save that furnished by 
 themselves. Their days weie full of toil and privation. It is 
 true, the sun would shine upon them in their solitude, and 
 would cheer them like the unfailing smiles of their Heavenly 
 Father. Its early morning rays would carry a beam of pleasure 
 to the heart ; and, no less would its enlivening brilliancy, on giv- 
 ing place to the evening twilight, cause pensive sadness to settle 
 like a mantle on the clustered inmates. 
 
 Thus day after day and night after night were numbered with 
 the years that preceded them. Did they ever share in the mid- 
 night serenade ? If so, it was the howling and the barking of 
 hungry wolves. And, if their slumbers were ever interrupted 
 by human footsteps, there was no glow of joy, in the expecta- 
 tion of recognizing peaceful salutations. Far from this was the 
 reality ! The reflected moonliglit from the tomahawk and scalp- 
 ing-knife, through the crevices of the log cabin, bid them pre- 
 pare for conflict. Such occurrences, of course, led to mental 
 temperament full of excitement, almost like native instinct. 
 How soon does the young chick become terrified and fly for 
 safety, on the distant appearance of the hawk or the weasel ! 
 Almost so was it with these dwellers in the wilderness. Upon 
 the first unexplained noise, the father's brow would curl with 
 frightful omen, and his arm would instantly gather superhuman 
 power, for direful resistance. Not less would the eye of the 
 mother gleam with love undying to her offspring, and with ven- 
 geance, fierce like that of the tiger, toward the assailant, while 
 the child would cling to her breast with spasmodic grasp, strong 
 as if in the agonies of violent death ! 
 
 Those tedious days have there all been numbered. Those 
 dismal, sleepless nights no more return to the inhabitants of 
 
 o 
 or 
 
 a 
 cm 
 
 s- 
 
 He that is cheated twice by the same man is an accomplice with the cheater. 
 
correct the faults takeu notice of, with as much cheerfulness i 
 
 
 d 
 .a 
 
 318 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 
 
 those rich valleys. The moon now oasts upon them her silvery 
 lustre, and the winds on every breeze carry to them the accents 
 of friendship, of love, and of mercantile gain ; and there is 
 naught to inspire fear, or interrupt the family repose. Nay, 
 those valleys are now literally filled with all the endearments of 
 social life, and with the comforts and the elegancies of compe- 
 tence and wealth. Between them and us, also, there is a strong 
 bond of social affinity. It takes not, as formerly, the fourth part 
 of a year to hold communion with such, in those delightful 
 abodes, as are near and dear to us. Even if we journey back 
 and forth, distance is almost annihilated. A thousand miles is 
 but httle more than an imagination. We pass by the cities and 
 villages upon the entire line, with such rapidity, that they seem 
 as in juxtaposition, or the mere suburbs of one grand dwelling- 
 place ; and by the aid of magnetic wires, we converse together, 
 as if in neighboring houses of the same town, or streets of the 
 same city. If one is born unto them, before the baptismal robes 
 can be put on, we are told of the joyful fact. And if death 
 stealthily enters their habitation, before the mourning weeds are 
 prepared, or the cold remains are committed to the tomb, our 
 mutual sympathies are interchanged. 
 
 This, moreover, is but the front ground of the picture. This 
 delineation applies to still more distant sections of country. 
 Beyond the valleys named, there are others, to which, in a 
 measure, it applies, upon other tributaries of the Ohio, the 
 Mississippi, and the Missouri, to the distance of ten or fifteen 
 hundred miles. The valleys of the Muskingum and the Scioto 
 now no more constitute the West, than the first rolling surge 
 seen from the cliffs of Nahant constitutes the entire Atlantic 
 Ocean. As wave beyond wave rises to view for an immeasura- 
 ble distance eastward, all being parts of that proud ocean, so, 
 in the opposite direction, valley beyond valley, even beyond 
 that of the luxuriant Wabash, is teeming with life, with busi- 
 ness, and with gladness, till those of Sioux and the des Moines 
 are encompassed ; and all these now are only parts of what we 
 call the West. And, ere long, what lies beyond the Eocky 
 Mountains will be as familiarly designated by that name as 
 what now lies east of them. 
 
 We are told much of the resources of the West ; we are 
 accustomed to talk much about them ; we have written much 
 about them ; but in the nature of things we know but little of 
 them, and even that little is known but imperfectly. It cannot 
 be otherwise. Were it possible that in any one year we could 
 be accurately informed on the subject, so rapid are its devel- 
 opments, that our statistics, in a twelve months afterward, i 
 
 
 Speak of thyself seldom, and always with great caution and modesty. 
 
oiable to the parties. It is, in fact, a species of lying; and it 
 
 § 
 
 •s 
 
 ■■B 
 
 "E. 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 319 
 
 would be like old books on chemistry, obsolete and useless, or 
 like almanacs of a past period, which expire by their own limi- 
 tation. We may indeed speculate on the subject; we may 
 compose column after column, showing in detail the probable 
 number of human beings that, at the close of the twentieth 
 century, will enliven those valleys, and subdue and fertilize 
 those mountains— including their products and wealth— their 
 minerals ^and their vegetables ; and if the ingenious author of 
 Herschel's apochryphal discoveries in the moon were to give 
 similar scope to his imagination in delineating the prospective 
 resources of the West, whoever shall be there at that remote 
 day to compare the vision with the reality, will exclaim in the 
 language of an ancient queen regarding the wealth and the glory 
 of a neighboring potentate, that the truth had not half been 
 told her. However, it may be well for politicians to apply 
 their optic-glasses to the future greatness of the West ; and 
 for philanthropists, in the same manner, to draw aside the veil 
 which conceals her moral capabilities and her moral destitution, 
 to furnish expansion to the one, and antidote to the other ; yet 
 the fact cannot be disguised, that generation after generation 
 will, for a long time, go down into the grave, notwithstanding 
 all our theories, and the West will continue to be as much of 
 a mystery, as our Atlantic portion of America was a mystery 
 to the Old World two centuries ago. 
 
 Although but little can be dohe in giving statistics of a new 
 country, that will be of permanent value, we can make general 
 reference to them ; we can make probable assumptions for the 
 groundwork of remarks; and we can make more particular 
 reference to the well-known elements of wealth in such a country. 
 This is all we can well do. This is what we purpose to do in 
 the present chapter. Borrowing, with slight alteration of lan- 
 guage, from the Merchant's Magazine, it may be affirmed, that, 
 from the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains — from the frozen 
 lakes of the North to the tepid waters of the Gulf of Mexico, 
 the capacity of the West is without limits, so far as we can dis- 
 cern. Here is every soil, every climate, every variety of sur- 
 face. Of all the great products of the world, coffee is the only 
 one which does not, or may not grow here. Take the people 
 of Britain, Ireland, France, Holland, Germany, Italy, and 
 Spain, and place the whole in the valley beyond the Appa- 
 lachians, and there would be space for still more. Ohio alone, 
 without sinking a pit below the level of her valleys, could sup- 
 ply coal equal to the amount dug from the mines of England 
 and Wales for twenty-five hundred years ; and Ohio is but a pig- 
 my in the way of bitumen, compared with Western Pennsylva- 
 
 Some people write, and others talk themselves out of their reputation. 
 
Spanish cigars, 19,000,000 ; for smoking and chewing Ameri- 
 
 320 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 
 
 nia and Virginia. Iron abounds from Tennessee to -Lake Erie, 
 and forms the very mountains of Missouri and Arkansas. Salt 
 wells are tlie secret store-houses in every Northwestern State. 
 From the metallic dikes of Illinois and Wisconsin, lead may be 
 raised to meet the wants of the whole world. Copper is also 
 very abundant on the shores of Lake Superior. Nor should we 
 neglect to mark the water-courses, the chain of lakes, the im- 
 mense plains graded for railroads by Nature's own hand, the 
 reservoirs of water, waiting for canals to use them. Already 
 the farmer far in the interior woods of Ohio and Indiana, may 
 ship his produce at his own door to reach Boston, New York, 
 Philadelphia, Baltimore, or New Orleans, and every mile of its 
 transit will be by canal, steamboat, and railroad car. 
 
 Allusion is here made to the coal formations in Ohio ; the 
 value of which is so great it may be proper to state a few more 
 facts on the subject. According to the estimates of Taylor, the 
 superficial area of these formations is nearly twelve thousand 
 square miles. Professor Mather, in speaking of the Ohio coal- 
 field, says, its mean thickness is probably six feet, and capable of 
 being woried over five thousand square miles. For more than 
 three hundred miles it borders on the Ohio Eiver, and is inter- 
 sected longitudinally and centrally by the Ohio and Erie Canal ; 
 and hence, must be classed with the most prolific sources of lo- 
 cal productive industry. For home family consumption ; for 
 manufacturing purposes, at some future day ; and, especially, as 
 an article of merchandise, it would be difiicult to name too high 
 a price for the coal forpiations in that state. In the year 1848 
 more than six and a half millions of bushels were the product 
 of them ; and they are increasing every year. Here is a per- 
 petual source of revenue and wealth, which of itself would make 
 the State rich. 
 
 A review of the region of which we are speaking, for the last 
 ten or fifteen years, will satisfy any reflective mind, that the 
 pork trade is acquiring a magnitude and importance outreaching 
 the dreams of any political economist, and startling to the nerves 
 of sober calculation. We may read a newspaper paragraph of 
 the number of hogs slaughtered in a single city, mostly the pro- 
 duce of the State of which it is the capital ; and of the number 
 in the entire West, as above defined, probably, the past year, 
 one million, and the impression is vague and without weight ; 
 much like the reading, by a child, of the number of stars in the 
 heavens, hairing never seen them. In order to have adequate 
 conceptions of the reality, he must go into the open air and see 
 them with his own eyes. So, if we would have any adequate 
 conceptions of the Western pork trade, we must pass over some 
 
 Think before you speak, and consider before you promise. 
 
cient in cultivation, or in' native talent, yet (ler experience is 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. Sf21 
 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 of the farms, where the larger humbers are raised, and must 
 visit the slaughter-houses of Cincinnati, with all- their fixtures' 
 and operators, almost like an array. We perhaps have been as 
 diligent as most persons, in reading, collecting, and collating the 
 statistics of our agricultural staples ; but, till making ocular 
 inspection, the pork trade to us did in no wise appear like the 
 reality. 
 
 Little incidents make a more lasting impression sometimes 
 than matters of far greater magnitude. The attending circum- 
 stance, rather than the facts themselves, give character and dis- 
 tinctness to the picture on the mipd as well as on canvas. We 
 will name an incident illustrative of this fact, and of our main 
 position. Our own first essay in a Western pork region, was at 
 a farmer's house, reached by us about sundown, when little 
 could be seen. The evening was spent in conversing of his 
 operations and productions, all of which, to us, seemed marvel- 
 ous ; but no allusion was made to pork. In the morning, while 
 the breakfast was being made ready, we passed an hour in re- 
 connoitering the premises ; and, having no natural sympatliy or 
 aflFection for the race of porkers, we were at first greatlj' annoyed 
 in being so frequently circumvented by foraging squads, but 
 sooA they were found to be so numerousi our curiosity and ad- 
 miration were the predominant feelings of the mind. We had 
 seen nothing like it Ijefore ! In the whole town where we were 
 born — a vei'v respectable one in the Granite State — we think 
 there are not so many ! On returning to the house, and while 
 at breakfast-table, we said to the owner, ''You did not tell me 
 anything about your hogs last evening — how many do you 
 raised" " Oh," was the reply, "I do not pretend to raise 
 hogs ; my children, as a perquisite, have some ; I think nothing 
 of them ; my profits come from something better." "But," 1 
 rejoined, " pray, then, how many hogs have your children — I 
 never saw so many iii my life, in one place?" His answer was, 
 " Oh ! not many ; perhaps about two hundred and fifty !" To 
 me the moral reflection was instinctive : if two hundred and fifty 
 bora's, with a Western farmer, are not of value to deserve being 
 counted or estimated, how many must those farmers raise who 
 do countand estimate them 1 
 
 Incident, also, to the more common and ostensible purposes' 
 In the raising of hogs, is the manufacture, from the fat, of can- 
 dles and oil. The business is in its infancy; and much improve- 
 ment will of course be accomplished, in rendering the articles of 
 higher excellence than could at first be reached ; but enough 
 has already been achieved to satisfy any person, that in the 
 West here will be a new source of revenue, of the first import- 
 
 The sum of Christian morality is — give and forgive, bear and forbear. 
 
 21 ~" 
 
JKCt to no disappointments, since be that perseveres naakes 
 
 322 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH- 
 
 ance to the whole country ; inasmuch as former source? for sap- 
 plying these articles are diminishing, while the consumption is 
 inciensing, at a rapid rate. The oil is already made an arti- 
 cle of export as well as of home consumption. Besides being 
 sold for what it actually is, it is also used for adulterating sperm 
 oil, and in France serves materially to reduce the cost of olive 
 oil, the skill of the French chemists enabling them to incorporate 
 from sixty to seventy per cent, of the lard oil with the olive. In 
 the city of Cincinnati the(re. are now more than thirty large es- 
 tablishments employed in the manufacture of lard oil. In one 
 of these establishments, it. was. calculated that in the winter of 
 1849 and 1850,^ 11,000,000 lbs. of lard would be run into lard 
 oil, and stearin, the substance for candles,; about two-sevenths 
 being in the latter; the residue, for oil making, about 24,000 
 barrels 6f forty-two gallons each. How many of these establish- 
 ments will be found in the West, t&n years hence, no mortal can 
 opine I 
 
 Much less is said of wealth in the great West, arising from 
 beef cattle than fronihogs, although the latter, in conimercial 
 value, are only a small decimal fraction to theiormer. It is not 
 easy to account for such a disproportion, in the result of our 
 financial Optics. Perhaps it proceeds from the novelty, to us at 
 the East, of making money, save in small sums, out of hogs. 
 Perhaps it proceeds rather from the species of romance which 
 attends the pork business ; at least, what seems to us ,like ro- 
 mance. With horn cattle — oxen and cows — we have been more 
 familiar from childhood. Their home use and their commercial 
 value we always have known. Hence, we talk less of thfim, 
 when existing at a distance, as an element of wealth, than we do 
 of hogs, although we think more of them on our own farms. 
 However, in order to appreciate this element of Western wealth, 
 an individual at the East must, , for a time, locate himself on one 
 of the great thoroughfares leading from the West to the Atlan- 
 tic cities, where he will see from a hundred to five hundred fat 
 cattle pass along once or twice every week. Then he will in- 
 quire, almost in astonishment, whence they all came I How it 
 is possible that so many can have been raised. It truly is almost 
 as much a matter of astonishment to one who has never visited 
 the West, as it is to satisfy himself whence comes all the water, 
 constantly flowing down the Mississippi or the Amazon! It 
 would seem, in the latter. case, that the floods of all the moun- 
 tains and hills on the globe would furnish an inadequate supply ! 
 So it would seem that all the gi-azing lands of the continent 
 conld not furnish so many beef cattle ! 
 
 When looking at the droves of cattle almost perpetually in 
 
 The more servants a man keeps, tlie more spies he has upon his actions. 
 
•seek her early will find her befiire it is late; her reward is 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 323 
 
 J 
 
 transit from the West to the Enstj for slaughter, we have felt a 
 strong inclination to be better informed of the number annu- 
 ally tlius furnished. Accuracy, in a case like .this, is impossible. 
 An approximation to accuracy is scarcely to be expected. In 
 fifty-nine of the eighty counties of Ohio there, were in 1849, 
 686, 248- beef cattle of an age to be taxable, and valued by the 
 town assessors at $6,6piS,209. Allowing that there were none 
 in the other twenty counties ; and, that there are in Missouri, 
 Illinois, Indiana, and Kentucky, in the same proportion as in 
 Ohio, according to population, the aggregate will be, in these 
 five states of the West, not less than 1,500,000 beef cattle of an 
 age to be taxed, and at a valuation of nearly fifteen, millions of 
 dollars. This truly is quite a pretty sum for farmers to look at. 
 Nor is tWs all. This must be the lowest hom« value. By the 
 time they reach the consumers in the Atlantic cities, the drovers, 
 butclrers, and -capitalists will hav« realized out ©f them, at least, 
 for themselves, fifteen millions of dollars besides ! Thus costing 
 the consumer thirty millions' of dollars. 
 
 Our means for determining the value of horses and mules, as 
 an element of wealth in the West, is still more defective. It is 
 known to be one of the important and leading branches of agri- 
 cultural produce and profit, -^ We know one farmer that does 
 nothino' else unless it be incidental to this. Doubtless there are 
 many. And "we know, also, that droves of horses are annually 
 coming from the West, for market on the Atlantic .board. 
 
 It is well known by all eastein readers, tliat not a small porr 
 tion of wheat flour, used in cities and villages adjacent to the 
 Atlantic coast, in the Middle States and New England, comes 
 from the great West. It is also' well known, that flour and 
 other breadstafi^s are largely exported. The capabiliiies of the 
 West for the growth of grain are without limits; audi without 
 any other element of wealth, would make a country rich. To 
 tell how many barrels or bushels are yearly sent to market, would 
 rather bewilder a person tlian make a distinct impression; the 
 same as telling how many tons of water there might be in Lake 
 ^ : Superior, allowiTigits limits and average depth could be defined. 
 •i 'In arithmetical calculation, if we rise above points witli which 
 S I we are familiar, we requiie certain analogical relations to quicken 
 5 ' our pereeptive power, and not less, certain mnemonical insti-u- 
 .&■ mentalities, to give vigor to memory, othei^ise the force of the 
 I I calculation is lost upon us. To illustrate this remark, we say, 
 M ' that an individual, not familiar with large financial enumerations, 
 *" would have no just appreciation of the public debt of Great 
 Biitain, on being told that it amounted to five thousand mi.lions 
 of dollars. 
 
 ■riain dealiag is a j<"ii'cl, but lliey lliat wear it arc oot of fashion. 
 
science has converted it into the best and most expeditioaa 
 
 824 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 
 
 •s 
 
 s 
 
 In addition to the few hints abovfe given, on the sources of 
 wealtii in the West, it ia proposed making some statements in 
 relktion to its commerce. Commerce is oi-diharily an index to 
 national wealth. In the present case nothing else— no statistics 
 that can be devised — can give its wealth such prominence. 
 Commerce is a language of signs understood by those who use 
 different dialects. It cannot be misapprehended. Or, like cir- 
 cumstantial evidence, in law — when the chain is complete, more 
 conclusive and irresistible than the lower grades of direct testi- 
 mony. So it is thought the commerce of the West is more con- 
 clusive of growing prosperity and wealth than any statistics that 
 can be given. 
 
 Judge Hall, of Ohio, says that there are plying upon a con- 
 nected chain of river, navigation of twelve thousand miles in ex- 
 tent, more than 6ve hundred steamboats. These boats are 
 valued at ten millions of dollars, and have 'a capacity of one 
 hundred thousand tons. They are used for passenger and 
 freight. The merchandise carried by them both ways — lliat is, 
 exports downward and imports upward — amounts annually, at 
 tile latest estimates, to two hundred and twenty millions of dol- 
 lai-s. The exports are the products of the soil, minerals, and 
 manufactured articles, and the imports are the productions and 
 fabrics of foreign countries. Prior to the year 1817, the whole 
 connmerce from New Orleans to the country of which we are 
 speaking, was carried in about twenty barges, averaging one 
 hundred tons each, and making but one trip in the year; so that 
 the importations from that city in one year could not much have 
 exceeded the freight now carried up in the course of a season 
 by one of the largest steamboats. Between Louisville and Pitts- 
 burgh there weie employed about one hundred and fifty keel' 
 boats of about thirty tons each. They did the entire freighting 
 business between those places. They usually made three trips 
 in the year, it requiring two months each, both ways. What a 
 change in a little more than twenty years I It seems more like 
 fiction than reality ! , V" 
 
 The history of man, says the same eloquent writer, does not 
 exhibit a spectacle of such rapid advancement in population, 
 wealth, commerce, industry, and refinement — such energy, per- 
 severance, and enlightened public spirit on the part of individ- 
 uals, as is exhibited in the Western States. The pioneers were 
 h noble race, and well did they discharge the part assigned 
 them. They led the way into the wilderness. They scaled the 
 ramparts of the Alleghany Mountains, that seemed to have been 
 erected as barriers, against the footsteps of- civilized men ; and 
 
 Only good and wise men can be friends; others are but convpaninns. 
 
controllable as the wave ? Y«t human art has rendered these 
 
 J3 
 
 
 
 
 WESTERN ELEMENTS OF WEALTH. 335 
 
 then driving back the savage, they possessed the coHntry and 
 subdued it. They were hardy and laborious. Under their cul- 
 ture, the vpilderness and waste places have been made fruitful, 
 like a garden. Their privations and their toils were of the most 
 severe nature ; at the same time encountering perils and exer- 
 cising an intrepidity that would completely have paralyzed most 
 men. In all that wide land, where so lately the honey-bee and 
 the beaver were the only representatives of labor, and where 
 tlie painted Savage was the type of manhood, there are now 
 manufactured most of the necessaries of life ; agriculture causes 
 to spring from her fair bosom a life-giving luxuriance ; letters 
 and the fine arts are duly cultivated, and beauty and fashion 
 b oom in unsurpassed loveliness. 
 
 In the period of the hist fifty years — the period covering these 
 extraordinary developments in our Western country — other por- 
 tions of the world also have been signalized by great events. 
 This period takes in the rise and fall of Napoleon, as well as 
 moie recent commotions and revolutions. By the expansion of 
 that gigantic military power, which he created, large portions 
 of Europe were conquered ; kingdoms were overrun ; nations 
 were submerged ; crowns were transferred ; and we can never 
 forget the pomp, the terror, the dreadful carnage, that attended 
 those great national cliHnjres. Yes, within this same period, the 
 great pjnin of ihe Mississippi was a wilderness, embracing a few 
 feeble and widely-scattered colonies. Here, also, arose a migUty 
 conqueror, more powerful than an army with banners. A vast 
 region has been overrun and subdued. Mountains have been 
 scali'd — the hills have been leveh-d — the valleys have been 
 filled up — the rough places have been made' smooth, to admit 
 the ingress of invaders. A broad expanse, extending over 
 twelve degrees, from North to South, and ten degrees, from East 
 to West, has been rescued from the dominion of nature, and 
 from the hand of the savage, and brought under subjection to 
 the laws of social subordination. A population of more than 
 seven millions has been planted upon the soil. Cities have 
 giown upon the plains ; the fields are made rich with harvests, 
 and the rivers bear the rich freights of commerce.' This has 
 nearly all been effected without the horrors of war, without na- 
 tional violence, without the domestic affliction usually attendant 
 on the train of conquest. The conquests of the warlike emperOr 
 have vanished, and also his greatness, like an airy fabric; while 
 a commercial and an agricultural people, using only pacific 
 mea'ns, have gained an empire whase breadth and wealth might 
 satisfy the ambiiiou of Napoleon- him^^elf. Our learned Buck- 
 
 X^ext m; friend I love mj enemies, for from them I first learn my faulta. 
 
axx eternal love. What ao variable as color I so swift as 
 
 326 VEGETABLE PHYSrOLOGY. 
 
 a 
 
 ps 
 
 eye coadjutor wijl pardoii the freedom with -which we here 
 aJ)propriate to ourselves thoughts and language not our own. 
 
 The emiffrant's way o'er the Western desert is mark'd by 
 Gamp-fires long consum'd, and bones that bleach in the sunshine. 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 
 
 By ceaseless action all that is subsists.^ 
 
 Constant rotation of the varied wheel 
 
 That nature rides apan maintains her healtb,. 
 
 Her beauty, ber fertility. She dreads 
 
 An instant's pause, and lives but while She moves. 
 
 In its origfna! signification, physiology denoted a discourse 
 or treatise of nature. At present, the meaning of the word 
 is more limited. We are now accustom«d to speak of ani^ 
 raal physiology and vegetable physiology — understanding by 
 the term the science of tlie properties and functions of animals 
 and vegetables. A book on agriculture should of co'urse con- 
 tain some general account, at least, of the vegetable creation. 
 Such an account it is proposed to introduce in the present .chap- 
 ter. For not a little portion of it the author is indebted to the 
 work of Squarey. 
 
 The housekeeper, who attempts to make a loaf of bread, says, 
 I shall need so much flour, so much yeast, so much butter, and 
 so much milk or water ; that the whole are to be kneaded to- 
 gether ; and then, after a specified time, to be well baked. She 
 is th6n furnished with the article desired. If, instead of com- 
 mon bread, she wishes to produce cake, she varies the propor- 
 tion of the above materials, or leaves out a portion of them, and 
 introduces something else, such as eggs or fruit, as tlie case may 
 require. Without a knowledge of the ingredients used in the 
 making of bread and cake, she would not be likely to furnish an 
 article as desired, to say the least. She might indeed make, 
 after sundry experiments, an article that might be quite good, 
 but the chances would be against her making one precisely like 
 what she might previously have seen, without advisement of the 
 materials used in its production. 
 
 Or, if you were to go to a founder, for the casting of a church 
 bell, Would he be able to fill your order acceptably, unless he 
 
 Neither look for troubles, nor be entirely unprovided for tliem. 
 
habits of forbearance and of complacency, as will secure him the 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 327 
 
 tso 
 
 M 
 
 were able to tell the materials of which bells are made ? He may- 
 be able to cast first-rate ploughshares or hollow iron ware. But 
 if he were to attempt making a bell of the same material com- 
 posing a ship's anchor or a soap-boiler's kettle, the presumption 
 is, the people would not be cnlled from a great distance to at- 
 tend Christian worship. He might, indeed, produce an article of 
 the proper form and proportions, looking at a distance like a 
 bell, but it would make no noise ; or not a noise loud enough to 
 be heard afar off. Or, if he were to know what materials, and 
 not to know the proportions in which they were to >be combined, 
 he might produce a bi^ll that would make a louder noise than 
 the iron one, but not a first-rate article. To do this, he must not 
 only use the proper ingredients, but he must use them in proper 
 proportions. 
 
 Let these cases be applied to vegetable physiology. This is 
 a science that a farmer must understand. For if he attempt to 
 raise any particular vegetable, without knowing tli6 laws by 
 which it is governed, or the elements of which it is composed, 
 so far as its production depends on his agency, the j'esujt will 
 not be dissimilar to the iron bell. If the soil already contained 
 these elements, so that nothing were needed but to cast the seed 
 into the ground, the vegetable would be produced, yet in no 
 way depending on his skill. Thus the bell-founder, having placed 
 the proper ingredients in the furnace, a common laborer, ig- 
 norant of the character of these ingredients, builds the fiie, 
 melts them, &nd then casts the streaming liquid into the 
 mould. A good bell is the result. However, this laborer, and 
 the farmer who had thus raised vegetables, stand on the same 
 leA'el, as to skill. 
 
 The subject may b? illustrated, hypothetioally, yet furtlier. 
 A highly respectable sea-captain having amassed a handsome 
 Ijttk estate, resolves to leave the ocean, .purchase a farm, and 
 settle in the country. His ship-owner, a prosperous merchant, 
 resolves to do the same, and. becomes a next door neigh- 
 bor to his old friend of the salt water. Here they are to become 
 farmers and spend the rest of their days. Both were, in certain 
 respects, familiar with some of the leading agricultural products. 
 The merchant had been in the grain and flour trade, and needed 
 no information touching the prices of Indian corn, oats, wheat, 
 flour, rye, or kindred articles. He had also seen them in such 
 Urge quantities, he must suppose them tq have been produced 
 ■with the greatest possible ease, and, of course, that the profit was 
 proportionably large. His friend Long Yarn had just about a 
 fair equivalent of knowledge touching these important staples. 
 He had carried ship-load after ship-load' across the Atlantic, in 
 
 More credit can be thrown down in a memest, than can be buiU up in- an age. 
 
with all sorts of etiataoters, not much adapted to our taste ; 
 
 328 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 
 
 ^ 
 
 sjjch rapid succession, he almost supposed the farmer could 
 raise them with the expedition of th.eir being carried to ntarket. 
 
 Our new friends were fairly lodged 6n their farms, but 
 neither tnew aught of the processes appertaining to their new 
 vocation- — for both had been so intensely occupied in former' 
 business as not to have read on the subject, and they had pre- 
 viously been so little in the country as not to- have learfit to dis- 
 tinguish an apple-tree from an oalt, or a ohestfint from a cherry- 
 tree, if it were not in the season of fruit. Of the particulat 
 character of the soil, in their respective farnas, they were wholly 
 ign&rant;- they knew nothing of vegetable physiology; and, of 
 course, they were w-holly incompetent to determine what crops 
 would best succeed under their culture, or what manures were 
 required on the land. They could, indeed, go to a neighbor for 
 information. Perhaps such information might be sufficient, but 
 there is an equal chance tliat such will not be theftict. Whether 
 alt kindred information, from time to time, can be had in the 
 same Way, is equally uncertain. If it can, the mode of procuring 
 "^it is far from being desirable. To persons who have' been ac- 
 customed to know all about their own business, it must be 
 an awk,ward jjosition to be obliged, in this miscellaneous man- 
 ner, to pick up the information necessity In their, every-day 
 labors. • 
 
 To meet the exigency, in all similar cases, there must be at 
 hand books with the requisite scientific elements of agricultural 
 chemistry. The nature of all farm agrictiltural products must 
 be studied; the elements of which they are composed must be 
 ascertained ; together with the mode by which they are enabled 
 to enter into and become parts of organized bodies. Such books 
 are to be found in abundance. Indeed, all pfersons engaged in 
 agricultural pursuits, whether brfed a farmerj or become one, on 
 leaving other occupations, will read and study such works with 
 pleasure. 
 
 As little as persons mi^ht imagine it, if they have never re- 
 flected on the subject, it is one of the prominent facts in botanic 
 science, that vegetables not only have various parts and organs 
 analogous to the members and organs of animals, but instincts 
 and appetites analogous to those possessed by them. The one 
 requires food as well -as the othei-. Without it both would lan- 
 guish and die. And the one as well as the dther requires the 
 adaptation and influence of external circumstances for a full de- 
 velopment of its beauty and vigor. Nor is this all. Among 
 animals, when' large and small ones are together, if there is a 
 deficiency of food, the former, driving away the latter, will obtain 
 nearly th^ whole of this. This is seen with cows and bogs. 
 
 Moderation is cominoDly firm, aqd firmness is com^monly successful. ' 
 
when tbej have time. But the present time has one ad- 
 
 s 
 
 ■a 
 
 a 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 329 
 
 Accordingly, the weaker ones never thrive well in company with 
 thfir superiors, unless the food is sufficiently abundant ior all. 
 It is precisely so with vegetation. The stronger or^es will con- 
 sume the food intended for the weaker, Why will not corn or 
 wheat flourish well about a largetree ? Not mainly because they 
 are shaded by its branches and foliage, ^but because it E;attiers 
 up the food intended for them. The same as a man with arms 
 so long as to reach over the whole table, might gather to him- 
 self all the victuals on it, while the little child, or an adult 
 without arms, would be comparatively starved. So, small and 
 delicate garden plants, amidst the roots of large weeds, will 
 famish. This will explain, too, why the plants and hills in gar- 
 den and field culture are not tfa be too near each other. There 
 will not be food enough. Precisely the same as if you were to 
 put four pigs into one pen, when the feed placed before them i? 
 only sufficient for two. 
 
 As a general rule, all plants consist of a root, stem, and 
 leaves ; and these again have a direct and distinct reference to 
 the production of fruit. When that purpose is accomplished, 
 the plant, either dies entirely or lies toipid for a season; until a 
 succession of the same circumstances which gave it life in the 
 fiist in.-tance, shall again call into action its productive organs. 
 Apparently, when the purpose of its existence is accomplished, 
 its organs cease to perform their allotted fvinctions, and there is 
 an ejitire dissolution of its parts. So in animal nature. Here 
 the organs are fitted to sustain the existen,qe pf the animal ; to 
 peiform a variety of appropriate functions and labors.; and then, 
 having perpetuated its species by reproduction, return to their 
 original state. 
 
 The root of a plant performs two important offices.- By it, 
 the plant is kept in a fixed position. By it, also, the pljint re- 
 ceives most of its nourishment. The root of a plant, therefore, 
 in some respects, is analogous to the mouth and limbs of an ani- 
 mal. The form of the root is diversified to an unlimited extent; 
 sometimes large ; sometimes small ; sometimes straight ; some- 
 limes crooked ; sometimes rough ; sometimes smooth. The 
 instincts of roots are truly wonderful. If there is in the vicinity 
 a lilile spot of soil more rich than the rest, they are as sure to 
 find it as a mouse is sure to find a little crumb of cheese sunk 
 into the crevice between the edges of two boards. Or, if thereis 
 a seam in a large stone obstructing its progress, they will be as 
 sure to find and penetrate this iavenue, as a man with a^ good 
 lantern, in a dark night, would search out and pursue a small 
 footpath in a grass-fi«ld., 
 
 A root usually consists of several parts — the body, the crown 
 
 Prinoes mfiy bestow preferments, but cannot make men truly honorable. 
 
with you a store of -wealth and diseased liver ; visit your 
 
 330 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 
 
 or collar, the branches, and the fibres — -whrch latter seem indis- 
 pensable in all plants. The most essential part of every root is 
 the crown, which is the portion of the plant between the stem, 
 or leaves, and the body of the root. In many jjlants, of a hardy 
 nature, nearly the whole of the body of the root may be cut 
 away, and yet, if the crown be uninjured, still the plant will 
 flourish ; but in the generality of plants, if the crown be injured, 
 no matter how perfect soever the body may be, the plant is 
 usually destroyed. When tlie crown of the foot is slender, it 
 drits up as the seeds ripen, and the plant soon dies — such plants 
 are termed annuals, including wheat, barley, oats, and a multi- 
 tude of others^but when the crown, from any cause, such as 
 the soil, climate, or culture, is rendered strong. Such annuals are 
 brought to grow two years, and are then called biennials ; or for 
 a succession of years, and then are called perennials. 
 
 The fibres, though an essential part of each root, may be re- 
 moved, in most cases, without injury to the plant, provided the 
 crown is sufficiently healthy and vigorous to push out new ones. 
 It is at the tips of these fibres that the spoiigelets are placed, 
 which absorb the pabulum from the soil, and in the event of the 
 spongelet being .removed by any cause from the point of the 
 fibre, two lateral shoots are immediately thrown out, provided 
 the plant is sufficiently vigorous to bear the temporary loss it 
 thus sustains, — each provided with its spongelet, and thus the 
 destruction of the one becomes a source of strength to the plant. 
 On this hypothesis, it is said that ploughing between the rows 
 of corn, and theieby cutting the tips of the fibres, occasions no 
 injury, but a benefit to- the grain. 
 
 That plants have the power of accommodating themselves to 
 circtimstances, is proved, in a most beautiful manner, from the 
 fact, that when planted in a dry and arid "soil, an infinitely 
 greater number of fibres and spongelets are produced, than 
 when the same plant is grown in a moist and fertile Soil. ' The 
 fibres, like- the leaves, are produced annually, in some cases fall- 
 ing off like leaves, as in the Dahlia; in others, increasing in size, 
 and becoming harder, like the parent body of the root, and sub- 
 sequently throwing out new fibres themselves, as is the case with 
 almost all large tiees. And, while light is needful for the full 
 developnrient of the leaves of vegetables, darkness or the absence 
 of light is equally essential to the development of the fibres of 
 the roots. 
 
 The stem is the next part to be considered,- but the functions 
 it pei forms in the vegetable creation are so subordinate to'those 
 performed by the root and leaves, that it will occupy but little 
 time to become acquainted with its offices. The stem of all 
 
 Few envy the nieritfi of others who have merits of their < 
 
family circle. Heaven did not give to woman insinuation 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 331 
 
 plarits rises immediately from the crown of tlie root, and is, con- 
 sequently, always above the ground. The same variety prevails 
 in this part of the plant as in the root ; for instance, the stems 
 of wheat, barley, and the grasses, rise to some height, and are 
 termed the straw ; the stems of mushrooms, farigi, and the like, 
 are termed the stalk ; and the stem of the strawberry is termed 
 the runner ; all of them being appropriately described from the 
 appearance each presents. 
 
 The functions performed by the stem are little more than that 
 of conveying to the different parts of the plant the liquids ab- 
 sorbed by the spongelels of the root. It is somewhat porous, 
 and evaporation of the useless matter of the plant takes place, to 
 some extent, on its surface ;■ but compared, in this respect, with 
 the leaves, its office is unimportant. It consists, in all cases, of 
 cellular tissue, containing albumen, with a large portion of the 
 earthy and alkaline matter, absorbed by the roots, and it par- 
 takes largely also of the character of the plant itself, in its ulti- 
 mate analysis, but frequently contains a deposit of resinous or 
 oleaginous matter, diHering widely from the products of the 
 other parts of the plant. It possesses the property of throwing 
 out fibres and spongelets, under favorable circumstances, and this 
 mode is one of the most common means employed for propaga- 
 tion of particular shrubs. 
 
 The leaves of plants are the next subject for consideration, 
 and the important offices they perform in the nutrition of all 
 plants will merit a careful investigation. Nature, in all her 
 operations, as far as human knowledge extends, is perfect. Suf- 
 ficient means are always employed to obtain a given result; npd 
 hence we may justly infer, that leaves, from their immense num- 
 ber, and from the gteat extent of surface they offer to the action 
 of the air, perform a most important part in the vegetable king- 
 dom ; and it will be seen, from the functions now about to be 
 described, that their importance is not overrated. 
 
 Leaves perform, in the vegetable kingdom, the same offices 
 as the lungs in the animal kingdom. Through them, from the 
 pores covering their surface, the respiration of the plant is car- 
 liedon; and, morp than this, for at the same time that the 
 respiration is going on, through the pores, a constant assimila- 
 tion of one of the gases of the atmosphere is also taking place. 
 From this source, to a considerable extent, the plant derives 
 its nourishment. Moreover, too, a constant chemical action is 
 always in operation in tlie leaves, in the formation of the resi-. 
 nous, and oleaginous, and acid matters they contain. These 
 processes of the leaves are constantly in operation, from the first 
 formation of the leaf until the seed is perfected, and they only 
 
 A wise man makes all his passions subservient ta liis reason. 
 
bpiing-time; rpanhood, with its "vigor and glory, his summer; 
 
 IS 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 333 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 
 
 cease when, from the ripening of the fruit, their assistance is no 
 longer required. 
 
 It has already been hinted, and it is important to remark 
 more particularly, that light is indispensably necessary to this 
 function of plants. In the presence of light, both the mechani- 
 cal action of evaporation of the watery parts and the secretion, 
 of the various gases is carried on vigorously ; but in its absence, 
 the plant loses this power, and becomes subject in its tmn to 
 the action of the oxygen of the atmosphere. 
 
 In speaking of the root of plants, it has been noticed, that 
 one condition essential to that part of their structure is darkness; 
 and now it is found that light is equally necessary for the stem 
 and leaves, and other green parts of the plant. If proof were 
 wanting to convinqe us of the almighty mind of the Being who 
 has so wisely constituted this world, it might be found in the 
 simple yet perfect arrangement now under consideration. It is 
 a proof of the most perfect adaptation of the plant to the con- 
 ditions and circumstances necessilry for its growth. 
 
 We DOW come to speak of the seed or fruit of plants. The 
 object to which all the other functions of the plant- are subordi- 
 nate, or to which, at least, all parts have reference, and one 
 which, in its importance to mankind, cannot be too highly ap- 
 preciated. Seeds vai-y in size, color, and shape, to such an 
 infinite extent as to be scarcely within the scope of human 
 understanding ; but all of them possess one uniform arrange- 
 ment for the protection of the germ from injury, and it will be 
 important to consider what this general arrangement is, and 
 also the changes that the seed undergoes in the process of 
 germini(ting. 
 
 All seeds consist of a fiiiinaceous, pulpy matter, covered on all 
 sides by two or three membranes, which serve to protect the 
 seed from any casual injury. The pulpy matter contains at one 
 end the heart, or, as it is more correctly termed, the germ or 
 embryo plant; and in all cases it musf be lemarked, that the 
 pulpy, farinaceous matter is the proper food of the nascent 
 germ. Some seeds are farther protected by a hard outer cover- 
 ing ; but this remark applies only to the seeds of trees. Al- 
 though the gradations from the hard external shell of the apricot 
 stone, to the membraneous covering of the wheat, are so gradual, 
 that the hne where one begins and the other ends is difficult to 
 be decided on ; and, indeed, whether inclosed in the shell or 
 menribrane, the changes all seeds undergo in the process of germ- 
 inating, seem to be precisely the same ; and it may be wortliy 
 of notice here, that so eflFectual is the membraneous covering in 
 protecting the germ from injury, that seeds found in the mum- 
 
 A faitliful friend is the medicine of life, and his excellency is invaluable. 
 
 r 
 
 &. 
 
 D" 
 
 g 
 P- 
 
 P 
 
 S 
 
even when our Bytnpatliies are excited by the sorrows and 
 
 1 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 333 
 
 mies taken from tlie pyramids of Egypt, which must be at least 
 three thousand years old, have vegetated, when planted in favor- 
 able circumstances; and, farther, seeds brought up from the 
 interior of the earth, in sinking wells, mines, and other excava- 
 tions, have also germinated, although the period when such 
 seeds could have been deposited in such positions is altogether 
 beyond human conception. 
 
 The circumstances necessary for the germination of the seed 
 depend externally on heat, .moisture, air, soil, and situation ; 
 although these two latter conditions are not, in all oases, indis- 
 pensable. Moisture is absolutely necessary for the seed, when 
 planted. The first action of moisture is to swell, by absorbing 
 the pulpy matter of the pod, which then bursts open and allows 
 the air to act iii concert with the water thus absorbed, in cre- 
 ating new compounds, such as starch, sugar, resin, and the 
 like. These form the pabulum, or nourishment, necessary 
 for the young plant in its first stages of existence, and before 
 its organs are sufficiently developed to 'obtain a supply of food 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Heat follows next, and is equally indispensable to the germi- 
 nation of the seed. A temperature below 32°, or much above 
 120°, are the extremes ; beyond whicli vegetation does not take 
 place. In the one case, fro.m tiie freezing, or extreme cold, 
 clositlo- the pores of the seed to the moisture ; and, in the latter 
 case, from the extreme heat, causing the fluids of the seeds to be 
 too much expanded, wlwn decomposition of the parts tabes place. 
 
 Air is also an essential ingredient in the germination of seeds, 
 from the presence of its oxygen. And it is probably, to the 
 absence of this cause that seeds found buried in the earth un- 
 der what would otherwise be considered favorable circumstances 
 for their growth, have lain so long doriflant. Light, so favora- 
 ble to the growth of the plant itself, is prejudicial to the devel- 
 opment of the germ, from its power of disengaging the oxygen 
 necessary to the vitality of the embryo of the plant. And it 
 has beeu presumed that electricity has an important effect in 
 causing the germ to vegetate and assume the functions of' an 
 organized plant ; but our knowledge of electricity is yet too 
 Umited to say how it operates, if it operate at all. 
 
 Nature — faint emblem of Omnipotence !— 
 
 Shap'd bj his hand — the shadow of His light — 
 
 The veil in which He wraps hia majesty. 
 
 And tlirough whose mantling folds He deigns to shqw, 
 
 Of His mysterious, awful attributes ; 
 
 And dazzling splendors, all man's feeble thought 
 
 Can grasp uncrush'd, or vision bear unquench'd. 
 
 A good life does not silence calumny,- but it certainly disarms it. 
 
Most people can see it, but always at a distance. 
 
 1 
 
 'I 
 
 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 
 
 Tonr conteraplafion farther yet pursue ; 
 The wondrous world of vegetables view 1 
 See varied trees their fruits produqe, 
 Some for delightful taste, and some for use. 
 See sprouting plants enrich the plain and wood, 
 For physic some, and some designed for food. 
 See fragrant flowers with different colors dyed. 
 On smiling meads unfold their gaudy pride 1 
 
 Vegetable Physiology, as generally understood and applied 
 by naturalists, although not according to its original significa- 
 tion, embraces a description of the organization and the nume- 
 rous and diversified functions of the entire vegetable creation. 
 Hence, the present chapter might have been appended to the 
 preceding one, without a distinct caption. The science,' of 
 course, is very extensive, and to tlie general student, very inter- 
 esting. However, for the purposes of agriculture, what relates 
 especially to the elementary constituents and the food of vege- 
 tables, being of primary importance and interest, is here placed 
 in a chapter by itself. This arrangement, moreover, will be 
 more convenient for reference. A knowledge of this portion of 
 the science is at the very foundation of agriculture. A farmer 
 must understand it, or he must practice upon its principles 
 from instinct or habit ; perhaps ignorantly, as the Athenians 
 worshiped the unknown God, or he can expect no crops. 
 
 All vegetables consist of two parts; one called the o/g(3!«)c 
 part, and the other the inorgnnic part. This is very readily 
 shown, without chemical apparatus. Take a piece of wood, a 
 bundle of straw or hay, a quantity of leaves, or any other veg- 
 etable, and put it into the fire, to be burned, when it will be 
 seen that nothing but aslies remain. The ashes are the inor- 
 ganic portion of the substance ; and that which disappeared the 
 organic portion. That a portion has disappeared is evident 
 from the small amount of what is found remainino-. And if the 
 substances consumed had been previously weighed ; also, if the 
 ashes were afterward weighed, il/ would appear, also, that the 
 inorganic portion is very trivial compared with the organic por- 
 tion. The organic part of different vegetables varies fiom 
 ninety to ninety-nine pounds out of every hundred pounds of 
 their weijrht. 
 
 The best horse needs breaking, and the aptest child needs teaching. 
 
the tree, the hitter is the fruit. If the tree, therefore, is good, 
 
 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 335 
 
 ■s 
 
 ■5. 
 
 ^ 
 
 In another place it lias been remarked tliat a plant or n tree 
 can no more exibt without food than an aninftal ; and it is only 
 because the mode in which tliey receive it is less evident to us, 
 that we do not commonly think of vegetables as equally depen- 
 dent with animals upon the materials supplied to them by the 
 elements around. In the one case the process is open to the 
 senses ; in the other case it is not. The question, then, is natu- 
 ral and pertinent, how do they obtain the materials of the firm 
 wood of their stems, roots, and branches ; of the soft but still 
 firm tissue of their leaves and fruits; of the fleshy seeds they 
 generate in their flowering system ; and of the various hard 
 substances whiph they produce in their different tissues ? An 
 attempt will be made in this chapter to answer that question. 
 
 It was the doctrine of ancient philosophers, thiit the vegetable 
 and the animal kingdoms were composed, in various combina- 
 tions and proportions, of four elementary principles, called earth, 
 air, fire, and water. Later investigations show that neither of 
 these is a simple substance. Hence it is, shown, that each of 
 these is a compound of elementary principles or essences, wiiich 
 are now known to exist, and to form the basis of the whole 
 mass of matter. 
 
 It is not necessary, in this place, to give a complete enumera- 
 tion of these elementary principles. Such a continued succes- 
 s'on of scientific terms is extremely repulsive to the reader wlio 
 has had no previous knowledge of them, and is apt to create a 
 dislike or a disgust for the subject they are designed to unfold. 
 The list may be found in treatises on natural science ; and such 
 of them as enter into the inquiiies of this work, will be given in 
 connection with the subject to which they severally relate. The 
 number of them, as at present understood, and as stated in the 
 Encyclopaedia Americana, is fifty three; some say fifiy-five. . 
 
 The organic part of plants consists of four elementaiy bodies — 
 or simple substances — called carbon, hydrogen, oxygen', and ni- 
 trogen ; the latter not existing in vegetable formations in a pro- 
 portion so large as the other three. 
 
 Carbon, the fiist of the elementary constituents of vegetables 
 here named, is a solid Substance, usually of black color, which 
 has no taste or smell, and burns more or less readily in the fire. 
 Wood-charcoal, lamp-black, coke, black-lead, and the diamond, 
 are varieties of carbon. Either of them, being, burnt, gives off a 
 kind of gas or air, termed carbonic ficid gas. The same gas is 
 likewise exhaled from the lungs of animals in breathing, and 
 being then unfit for respiration, is destructive of animal life. 
 Hence, in a diving bell, or any other place cut off fjom external 
 communication, on becoming filled with it, and having no new 
 
 Pay what you owe, aod you will then know what you are worth. 
 
ground where only one grew before, deserves better of raan- 
 
 336 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 
 
 supplies of pure atmospheric air, anintial life 'would soon be 
 destroyed ; the same us in a close lod-ging-room filled with the 
 fumes of burning ciiarcoal. This gas is what is called fixed air, 
 existing in coiil mines, and sometimes in deep wells and ciiverns. 
 It-alsO exists in the gas used in towns and cities, for lighting 
 liouses and the streets ; the latter being a conibingition of car- 
 bon and hydrogetl. It is chiefly to the carbon which it contains 
 that the hardness and solidity of wood are due. In so large a 
 proportion does it exist in that tissue, that when the other ele- 
 mentary bodies have been separated, the carbon i-etains the form 
 of the tissues in great beauty and perfection. So that a section 
 of a piece of charcoal will indicate the character of the wood 
 from which it was made, nearly as well as would a section of 
 an Ainburnt branch. On the other hand, in proportion as the 
 tissues of the plant are deficient in carbon, do we find them de- 
 ficient in firmness of structure. The difficulty in understanding 
 how the wljole vegetable creation is supplied with carbon is 
 partly removed, when we consider the immense amount of com- 
 bustion of coal which is constantly going on in our large towns, 
 and also the Irtrge quantity of the gas extricated by the respira- 
 tion of the millions of animals upon the globe. 
 
 Hydrogen is the next elementary substance entering into the 
 composition of vegetables. It is a kind of air or gas which 
 burns in the air as coal-gas does, but in which a candle will not 
 burn, nor an animal live, and which, after being mixed with 
 common air, explodes, when it is brought near the flame of a 
 candle. It is also the lightest of all gases. This is the gas 
 used in filling balloons, thus enabling them to rise in the atmos- 
 phere, in consequence of being so light. Hydrogen is contained 
 largely in plants ; and, in most of the substances into whose 
 composition it enters, it is combined with oxygen nearly in the 
 same proportion as in water. Thus, being an important con- 
 stituent of water, it easily passes, by their roots, into the sub- 
 stance of plants. It is possible, also, that a small portion of it 
 passes into the substance in the form 6f ammonia, in connection 
 with nitrogen, to be moie particularly noticed in their proper 
 place. 
 
 (kcygen, we notice next in order. It enters largely into the 
 organization of vegetable substances ; it makes, also, one fifth of 
 the air we breathe. Without it, plants will no more flourish 
 than animals can live. A portion of this air is combined with 
 water ; and it is in this manner that fishes and other aquatic 
 animals, as well as plants, are supplied with it. So important 
 is axygen for the sustaining a healthy existence, if an animal is 
 confined in a given quantity of it, it will live four or five times 
 
 Many soldiers are brave at the table, who are cowards in tlie field. 
 
ploughing brings up latent utiimai and vegetable particles 
 
 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 337 
 
 longer than a similar animal will do in the same volume of atmos- 
 pheric air. 
 
 Nitrogen, the other elementary constituent of the organic por- 
 tion of vegetables, is a kind of air lighter than atmospheiic aii', 
 of which it forms four-fifths of the bulk. It is an important in- 
 gredient in the substance called gluten, which exists largely in 
 the seeds of the various kinds of corn, and most of all in wlieat ; 
 and it is on this account, in part, that wheaten bread is the most 
 nutritious of all vegetable substances ordinarily used as food. 
 On this account, vegetable substances, greatly or wholly defi- 
 cient of nitrogen, are not fit of themselves to maintain animal 
 life. Of this description are sug;\r, gum, and the like. It has 
 been stated that the value and weight of wheat and all grain 
 depends on the quantity of gluten it contains — the best con- 
 taining the greatest quantity of it, and the smallest quantity of 
 starch. 
 
 The inorganic, or solid earthy substances, entering into the 
 organization of vegetables, are potash, soda, magnesia, sile.v, 
 lime, and phosphorus. These substances differ materially from 
 the gases, above described. As one or more of these is a com- 
 ponent part of every plant that exists, it may thence be fairly 
 presumed that its presence is absolutely neceSsftry. It is known, 
 m6reover, that plants, growing in situations where these sub- 
 stances cannot be had, are diminutive in size, their organs are 
 not fully developed, and, in many instances, . they perish alto- 
 gether, after having attained a certain growth. Nor is this all : 
 a portion of them — soda, lime, rtagnesia, and phosphorus— enter 
 largely into the structure of bonis and teeth. Animals are de- 
 pendent on vegetation for their support, either directly or indi- 
 rectly, and as no other means naturally exist for supplying 
 these necessaries to the animal frame, it is not too much, per- 
 haps, to say, that this property of plants was designed for that 
 purpose. 
 
 It has been stated, that the inorganic portion of vegetables is 
 all that remains when they are burnt. This is found in the form 
 of ashes. The organic portion, being set at liberty in combus- 
 tion, passes off, and is invisible. The carbon, uniting with tlie 
 oxygen, and with some additional oxvgen from the air, becomes 
 carbonic acid. The hydrogen, unitint; in the same manner with 
 oxygen, becomes a watery vapor. Thus, in connection with the 
 o.trbon and the hvdrogen, the oxygen is entirely di.sengnged. 
 And the nitrogen, combining with what remains of the hydiogen, 
 makes ammoni.i. So it is seen, as before said, that nothing re- 
 mains of the vegetable tissue but the incombustible matter, and 
 the nature of this varies in different plants, according to the 
 
 If nubody takes notice of our faults, we easily forget them ourselves. 
 
of the year, the last day of the month, the last day of the 
 
 338 
 
 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 
 
 proportion of the several inorganic elementary constituents that 
 entered into their formation. In the grasses, for instance, in- 
 cluding corn, the bamboo, sugar-cane, and some others, the 
 ashes consist principally of minute particles of flint. In most 
 other plants growing inland, we find some compound bf the 
 alkali of pot-ash ; and it is from this source that the greatest 
 quantity of the pearlash that is largely used in various manu- 
 factures, such as soap and glass, is derived. On the other hand, 
 in plants growing nejir the sea, the potash is replaced by soda, 
 which has nearly similar, properties. Again, in most plants 
 there is a small quantity of the carbonate of lime, and in 
 other? there is a large quantity of lime combined with other 
 acids ; thus, in rhulferb we find large cr3rstals of oxalate of lime ; 
 and in the corn-grains there is a considerable amount of phos- 
 phate of Jime, by which their power of nourishing animals is 
 greatly increased, since this substance constitutes the earth of 
 bones. 
 
 Of these different miweral ingredients, each plant seems to 
 have some one or more that are essential to its growth, as in any 
 other article of its food ; but the quantity required is sometimes 
 extremely minute, so as to be scarcely detectable — only a very 
 small quantity of ash remaining after the tissue has been burned. 
 In other instances, again, the mineral matter is so abundant as 
 to present itself in the form of large crystals, which are depos- 
 ited between the cells of the tissue. But that which seems its 
 proper oDSce is to form part of the membraneous walls of every 
 ceU and tube of the whole structure, however delicate these may 
 be. If a thin portion of almost any plant be buiiied in such a 
 manner that free combustion of all its gaseous elements may 
 take place, without disturbing the place of those which remain, 
 a beautiful skeleton, consisting of extremely minute particles of 
 mineral matter, will be seen, in which the form of all the cells 
 and vessels may be distinctly traced. These particles would 
 seem to be dispersed throughout the minutest parts of the veg- 
 etable tissue ; and they probably serve the purpose of conferring 
 additional strength upon- the delicate fj-amework of which it 
 consists. Even in the finer ashes left by the combustion of com- 
 mon coal, -a person to whom the forms of the elementary tissues 
 of plants are familiar, will often succeed in detecting, with the 
 microscope, fragments of such skeletons ; which thus add to the 
 evidence, otherwise sufficiently strong, of the vegetable nature 
 of the substance. 
 
 The design of this work is not to go into a minute and criti- 
 cal exposition of the less obvious laws and functions in the 
 vegetable kingdom. These, so far as fully ascertained, and 
 
 Half-witted people have a talent of talking much and saying little. 
 
aspiring at something higher than he can reach, his life is a 
 
 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 339 
 
 
 
 ingenious theories where facts hnve not been completely authen- 
 ticated, may be found in more elaborate and more scientific trea- 
 tises, to which the inquisitive reader is referred. The principal 
 aim of the author in this volume is to lead the attention of the 
 masses of agriculturists,, generally supposed not to have been 
 favored with the advantages of early scientific culture, to hab- 
 its of inquiry and investigation, by preseftting to them some of 
 the more obvious laws and functions in this kingdom ; especially 
 such as, without a knowledge of which, the common operations 
 of rural economy cannot be successfully perfected. To the 
 philosopher, it is a subject of lively interest to investigate the 
 former ; to the practical farmer, it is i matfer of no less interest 
 that he is enabled to carry out the details of the latter. To the 
 scholar of animal physiology, it is deemed worthy of ceaseless 
 study to ascertain what particular elements of nutrition are ab- 
 sorbed in the production of the respective organs of the animal 
 structure, to wit, the bones, the hair, the blood, the gluten, and 
 the muscles, as well as the curious processes by which these 
 transformations are matured ; but to the unlettered man of the 
 plough and the spade, it is ordinarily sufficient that he knows 
 what particular kind of food will make his oxen sleek and strong 
 to labor; his cows amply productive of milk and butter; and 
 his swine of aldermanic proportions. So it is in the vegetable 
 physiology. One desires to know by what organs and what 
 functions the food becomes as-imilated to the different portions 
 of the plant. The other is ordinarily satisfied, if _ he know- 
 enough of what particular soil and manure is requisite to pro- 
 duce good crops, to let all such curious inquiries pass over 
 to the professed student, whose business it is to investigate 
 them. 
 
 Hence, having stated what are the general elementary con- 
 stituents of vegetables, the organic as well as the inorganic, the 
 conclusion is irresistible that in the culture of them there must 
 be an adequate supply of these means to render perfect their 
 several organizations. As already remarked, plants will no 
 more flourish Without them, than animals will grow without 
 food; indeed, they are the food of plants. If any particular 
 elementary substance is known to exist in an animal or a vege-, 
 table, it is clear that this substance was imparted to it by some 
 available process. For instance, if, upon a post-mortem exam- 
 ination, poison is found in the stomach, it must have been depos- 
 ited there by some agent, either voluntarily or by accident. A 
 man would be a fool who drew any other inference. Again, as it 
 is known that the shells of eggs are composed of lime, it is tTie^ 
 established practice to let fowls have acx;ess to that substance,' 
 
 He that gives to a grateful man puts his money at compound interest. 
 
you hold jour postal uncertainties. It may be taken fr6in 
 
 340 ELEMENTARY FOOD OF VEGETABLES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 S 
 
 •a 
 
 5 
 
 in order that they may furnish eggs with the regular shells. 
 Without this precaution, disappointment would be the manifest 
 result. And it would be equally unphilosophical to stippose that 
 the bones of animals can be formed without lime, or the gluten of 
 wheat without nitrogen, or the heart wood of trees without 
 carbon ; so likewise of every other distinctive attribute apper- 
 taining to any particular plant or tree. What agriculturists 
 have therefore to do is, to see that what crop they propose to 
 raise should be furnished with the elements necessary in its 
 production. 
 
 There are indeed some plants which derive a sufficient quan- 
 tity of the several elements of which they are composed from 
 the atmosphere alone, to enable them to maintain life, and even 
 to flourish, without any other kind of supply. The water is 
 absorbed by the general surface, but especially by the roots, 
 which, in such plants, are usually long and of soft tissue 
 throughout ; the carbonic acid is taken in the green parts from 
 the atmosphere alone ; and the minute quantity of ammonia 
 also contained in the atmosphere, which is probably dissolved 
 in water and taken up with it, affords a sufiicient supply of 
 nitrogen. Such aerial plants usually contain but a very small 
 quantity of mineral matters ; and these, too, are probably de- 
 rive,d from the atmosphere in which they are suspended. These 
 plants, clustering round the branches of lofty trees, and hang- 
 ing to a great depth beneath them, are extremely common in 
 tropical climates, in which the atmospheric moisture is much 
 greater, and where they constitute an important part of vegeta- 
 tion ; and such instances are occasionally met with in higher lat- 
 itudes. 
 
 Many trees and plants, which do not ordinarily grow in this 
 manner, may be caused to do so by accident or design, and 
 may even thrive very well. In the year 1817, there was grow- 
 ing, in Gallowayshire, Scotland, on the top of a stone wall, a 
 plane-tree which measured twenty feet in height ; and, as soon 
 as it exhausted the bare and scanty soil in which the youno- 
 plant grew, it sent down roots which clung to the side of the 
 wall, and threw out neither bud nor branch until they reached 
 the ground, which was not until several years had elapsed, 
 during all which time the tree must have lived upon the mate- 
 rials supplied by the atmosphere alone. And in one of the hot- 
 houses of Edinburgh, a plant of the New Holland fig was caused 
 to grow entirely without earth, by gradually withdrawing from 
 the pots the several roots contained in them. The plant was 
 well watered twice a day, and put out new roots freely from all 
 parts of the stem and branches ; by which it appeared to gain 
 
 He that has no silver in his purse, should have silver on his tongue. 
 
ing perseverance of Paul and Howard be united in each 
 
 ■*>, 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 341 
 
 o. 
 
 an ample supply of nourishment, for it produced a very full 
 crop of fruit in the autumn, after the earth was removed from 
 the last set of roots. 
 
 Oases like the above, and perhaps many might be gathered 
 up as curiosities, do not affect the general taws which regulate 
 vegetable development ; they are exceptions to those laws. 
 Vegetables generally require a larger and a more certain supply 
 of their various kinds of aliment than the atmosphere can fur- 
 nish. This is received by a prolongation of their roots into the 
 soil. Thus the soil is the store house for the support of vege- 
 table life ; and it is, hence, the grpat business of the agricultur- 
 ist to see that it is amply filled with whatever is needed for that 
 purpose. And, it is as much his duty and his interest to keep 
 it at all times substantially replenished, as to see that his barns 
 and his granaries contain all that is needed from them in the 
 support of his stock, and in meeting the demands of his fam- 
 ily. This will lead us to an examination of soils in another 
 chapter. 
 
 How mean the order and perfection sought 
 In the best product of the human thought, 
 Compar'd to the great harmony that reigns 
 la what the spirit of the world ordains I 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 
 
 I wander o'er the various rural toil. 
 
 And know the nature of each different soil. 
 
 The soil is the upper portion of the ground in which plants 
 are produced. It forms a stratum of from a few inches to a 
 foot or more in depth. It is usually somewhat dark in color, 
 arising from its intermixture with the decomposed stems, leaves, 
 and other parts of plants, which had grown upon it, and, in part, 
 often by the presence of animal substances. It is this mixture 
 of the substa,nce of organic bodies with the mineral matter of 
 the upper stratum, which distinguishes this stratum from the 
 subjacent mass of earth or rock, to which the term subsoil is ap- 
 plied. The decomposed organic portion of the soil may be 
 termed mould ; and it is the presence of mould, accordingly, 
 which distinguishes the soil from the subsoil. _ ■ 
 
 Soils are various in their fertility and texture. With relation 
 
 Virtuous youth gradually brings forward flourishing manhood. 
 
sides, I never knew a person who was economical of tlie 
 
 342 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 
 
 to their powers of producing useful plants, they may be. termed 
 rich or poor ; with relation to their textare, they may be termed 
 stiff, and free or light. The stiff soils are those /Which are te- 
 nacious and cohesive in their parts ; the light or free soils are 
 those which are of a looser texture, and whose parts are easily 
 separated. But the cohesive soils pass into the loose by imper- 
 ceptible gradations ; and hence, though all soils may be termed 
 rich or poor, stiflf or light, they are so in every degree of fertility 
 and texture. 
 
 All soils, which possess this tenacious or cohesive p,roperty in 
 a considerable degree, are termed days, or clayey soils ; while 
 all the looser soils are termed light or free. And all soils are 
 more or less clayey, or more or less light, as they- possess more 
 or less of this tenacious and cohesive property, or of this looser 
 texture. 
 
 The fertility of soils is, all other circumstances being the 
 same, indicated by the greater or smaller pro.portion of mould 
 which enters into their composition. When soils are thus natu- 
 rally fertile, or are rendered permanently so by art, they are 
 frequently termed loams; thus, there are clayey loams and 
 sandy loams ; and peat itself may, by the application of labor 
 and art, be converted into loam. 
 
 The parts of plants which grow upon the surface, and are 
 mixed with the mineral matter of the soil, may decompose and 
 become' mould. Under certain circumstances, however, the 
 plants which have grown upon the surface do not decompose, 
 but undergo a peculiar change, which fits them to resist decom- 
 position. They are converted into peat, and the soils formed of 
 this substance are termed peaty. The peaty soils are of the 
 lighter class, and are distinguished from all others by peculiar 
 characters. 
 
 Soils, then, may be distinguished from one another in the fol- 
 I lowing manner. First, by their texture, in which case they 
 g may be divided further, into stiff, denominated clays ; and the 
 S light or, free, comprehending the peaty. Second, by their fer- 
 ~ tility or powers of producing useful plants, in which case they 
 J are termed rich or poor. 
 
 g i Soils, too, from particular causes, may be habitually wet, or 
 '^ habitually dry. Soils, therefore, may be further distinfruished 
 i by their relation to moisture. When water, from any cause, is 
 generally abundant, the soils may be termed wet ; when there 
 is habitual deficiency of water, they may be termed dry. 
 
 Subsoils, it has been said, are distinguished from soils properly 
 so termed, by the absence of mould. Plants, in growino-, may 
 extend their roots into the subsoil, and decomposino- there, be 
 
 P^ 
 
 Unity of interests will reconcile many of the most opposite sentiments. 
 
wag known he did, and yet have so much leisiite. " I 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 343 
 
 P. 
 
 w 
 
 ■a 
 ■a 
 p. 
 
 mixed with it. But this is in small quantities!, and, for the most 
 part, the subsoil is readily distinguished, by the eye, from the 
 upper stratum or soil, by the absence of organic matter in a de- 
 composed or decomposing state. Subsoils may either consist of 
 loose, earthy matter, like the soil, or tliey may consist of roct. 
 Subsoils, therefore, may be divided into two clas.^'es, the rocky 
 and the earthy. 
 
 When the soil rests directly upon, and extends to the rock, 
 without any intervening bed of looser eiirthy matter, the soil 
 will frequently be found to be simihir, in the composition of its 
 mineral parts, to the rock upon which it rests, from having been 
 formed by the gradual disintegration of that' rock. This is 
 chiefly found to be the case with the soils of mountains ; for, in 
 plains, the soil is generally fi>rmpd, not by the disintegration and 
 decomposition of the rock Upon which it rests, hut by the inter- 
 mixing too-ether of the disintegrated parts of different rocks and 
 mineral strata. 
 
 The rocky subsoils consist of granite, sandstone, limestone, 
 chalk, and the other mountain rocks of a country. They are 
 sometimes easily penetrated by the water that falls upon the 
 soil, and are then termed free or porous ; and sometimes they 
 resist the percolation of water, when they are termed close or 
 retentive. The earthy subsoils may, in like manner, be divided 
 into the close and retentive, and' the free or porous. The reten- 
 tive are those which, from containing much clay, are tenacious 
 and cohesive in tlieir parts, and little pervious to fluids ; Uie 
 porous are those which, having le;>s of clay in their composition, 
 are more readily permeable. 
 
 Whether the subsoil be retentive or porous, tlie soil which 
 rests upon it should be of good depth. If the soil be shallow, 
 on a retentive subsoil, it is afiected too gfeatly by the alterna- 
 tions of dryness and moisture. And if, again, a shallow soil 
 rests on a porous subsoil, the moisture of the soil is too easily 
 acted upon and exhausted by heat. 
 
 A subsoil, in so far as mere texture is concerned, should be 
 neither too retentive nor too porous. But, although this inter- 
 mediate condition is, in most cases, best, yet, in a very cold and 
 moist country, a free or porous subsoil is, for the most part, to 
 be preferred to one which is close and retentive. The soil, be- 
 sides being affected by the texture of the subsoil, is sometimes 
 also affected by the nature of the mineral substances of which 
 the subsoil is formed. If the subsoil be rocky, it is desirable 
 that it be calcareous rather than silicious — chalk 'or limestone 
 rather, for example, than quartz. Sometimes the subsoil con- 
 tains matter which is directly injurious to the growth of the 
 
 XTnsophisticated manner.? are the genaine ornamenta of the mind. 
 
years old or fifty, Bubmits cheerfully to those rules and regula- 
 
 <o 
 
 
 
 344 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 
 
 ■plants. This matter is generally found to be the oxides of 
 metals, in combination with acids,. Subsoils of this kind are 
 usually distinguished by deepness of color. 
 
 Soils, then, it is seen, are affected in their properties, not only 
 by their own texture and composition, but by the texture and 
 composition of the subsoil ; and they are divided into the stiff 
 or clayey, and the light or free soil. A knowledge of them, 
 therefore, in all their relations, is at the very foundation of agri- 
 cultural skill ; of course, of the first importance to the practical 
 farmer, and affording curious matter of deep interest to the stu- 
 dent in this department of science. 
 
 The clayey soils have, as llieir distinguishing character, the 
 adhesiveness of their parts ; and this property alone will enable 
 even the inexperienced to discriminate them. A stiff clay, when 
 dried either by natural or artificial heat, becomes so hard as to 
 resist a considerable degree of mechanical pressure. On account 
 of the tenacity of such soils, they are tilled with more difficulty 
 than the freer soils. They require, to fertilize them, a larger 
 proportion of manures ; but they retain the eflects of these ma- 
 nures for a longer time. They ai-e better suited to the cultiva- 
 tion of plants with fibrous than with fleshy roots or tubers. 
 
 Soils of this class, as of every other, possess many degrees of 
 natural fertility. The poor clays form, foi- the most part, an 
 unprofitable soil, beoaui^e, while their powers of production are 
 inconsiderable, the expenses of tilling them are large. The clay 
 soils of this character are generally of little depth, and rest.upon 
 a retentive subsoil. The natural herbage they produce is coarse 
 and little nutritious, and they are not well suited to the produc- 
 tion of the cultivated grasses and other herbage plants. They 
 are little fitted for the growth of turnips, or other plants with 
 fles-hy roots or tubers. Such soils have everywhere local names 
 which sufficiently denote their qualities. They are termed, by 
 not an improper figure, cold soils. 
 
 Very different in their value and nature are the richer clays. 
 These bear weighty crops of all the cultivated kinds of corn 
 grain ; they do not excel the better soils of other classes so 
 greatly in the production of oats, and still less in that of bar- 
 ley, in which the lighter loams surpass them ; but they are 
 unequaled for the production of wheat, and in many places de- 
 rive their descriptive appellation from that circumstance, being 
 termed wheal soils. They will yield large returns of the culti- 
 vated grasses and leguminous herbage plants, though they are 
 not so quickly coveied with the natural herbage plants of the 
 soil, when laid down to perennial pasturage, as the lighter soils. 
 
 Clays, like the other soils, approach to their most perfect 
 
 tr 
 •a 
 
 To tell our own seerets is folly; to divulge the secrets of others is treachery. 
 
he asked a fortnight's time ; at the end of tlie fortnight, 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VAEIETY OF SOILS. 345 
 
 condition as they advance to that state wliieh has been termed 
 loam. The effect of judicious tillage, and of the application of 
 manures, is to improve the texture of such soils, as well as to 
 enrich them. Thus, clays in the neighborhood of cities become 
 dark in their color, and less cohesive in their texture, from the 
 niixture of animal and vegetable matter, and thence acquire the 
 properties of the most' valued soils of their class. 
 
 Natural changes, however, yet more than art, have furnished 
 the rich soils of clay. The best, for the most part, of the soils 
 of clay, are those wliicli are formed from the alluvial deposi- 
 tions of rivers or the sea. Tlie finest natural soils of this and 
 other countries, are those which are thus formed. Tlie depo- 
 sitions of rivers, indeed, are not always of a clayey nature. In 
 mountainous districts, they generally form soils of the lighter 
 kinds. Where the sea, however, is the agents 01' where both 
 the rivers and the tides combine their action, the depositions 
 generally partake of the nature of clay. Such alluvial soils 
 have everywhere local terms to mark their character and fer- 
 tility. 
 
 The next class of soils is the light or free. These are natu- 
 rally distinguished fiom the last by their smaller degree of 
 tenacity. They are less suited to the production of wheat and 
 beans than the clays, but they are better suited for the produc- 
 tion of plants cultivated for their roots and tubers, as the tur- 
 nip and potato. This class of soils may be divided into two 
 kinds, or sub-classes, differing from- each other in certain char- 
 acters, but agreeing in the common property of being less tena- 
 cious in their parts than the clays. 
 
 The first of these sub-classes of the lighter soils has been 
 termed the sandy. Sandy soils are of all the degrees from 
 barrenness to fertility. When wholly without cohesion in their 
 parts, they are altogether barren, and are only rendered pro- 
 ductive by the admixture of other substances. The cultivated 
 sands part readily with their moisture on the application of 
 heat. They do not become hard like clays, and making no 
 considerable resistance to external pressure, they are tilled with 
 little labor. 
 
 The poorer sands are almost always marked by the scantmess 
 of tlveir natural herbage. This character they possess in com- 
 mon with the pdorer gravels. Other soils, even the poorest, 
 may be thickly covered with the plants peculiar to them ; but 
 the poorer sands and gravels usually put forth their natural 
 herbs with a sparingness which denotes the absence of vegetable 
 nourishment! But sand, without losing its distinctive character 
 as a soil, may possess a greater cohesiveness in. its particles, and 
 
 "rhefts never enrich ; alms never impoverish ; prayers hinder no work. 
 
effect nothing, coming one day to Queen Elizabeth, she said 
 
 846 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 
 
 a 
 
 
 be fertile by nature, or rendered so by art; and then' the soils 
 denominated sandy become of deserved estimation. Rich sands 
 are early in maturing the cultivated plants, and thence they are 
 familiarly termed kindly soils. They are fit for the production 
 of every kind of herbage and grain. They yield to the richer 
 clays in the power of producing wheat, but they surpass them 
 in the production of rye and barley. They are well suited to 
 the growth of the cultivated grasses ; and when left in peren- 
 nial pasture, they are quickly covered with the natural plants 
 of the .soil. But their distinguisliing character is their peculiar 
 adaptation to the raising of the plants cultivated for their roots 
 and tubers. 
 
 The next division of the lighter soils, and allied in character 
 to the sandy, is the gravelly. Sands will be frequently found 
 to be the production of flat countries, gravels of the mountRin- 
 ous and rocky. The characteristic of the gravelly soils is the 
 quantity of loose stones which they contain. These stones will 
 be found to consist o"f those varieties of rock which the moun- 
 tains of th? country afford ; and the nature of these rocks will 
 frequently indicate the characters of the soil ; thus, soils of 
 which the stony matter is very silicious, are generally found to 
 be barren, while those of which it is calcareous are found to be 
 fertile. 
 
 Sands, upon examination, will be found to consist of small 
 particles of stony matter, and thus sands may be said to differ 
 from gravels only in the more minute division of their parts. 
 Yet, in this minuteness of division, there is generally sufficient 
 to distinguish the two kinds of soils. The stony matter of the 
 sand forms its principal component pairt, while the larger stones 
 in the gravel, which give to it its name and character, seem only 
 to be mixed with the other necessary parts of the soil. The 
 stone of the one has undergone a considerable mechanical divis- 
 ion, while much of that of the other has only been loosened, in 
 sensible masses, from its native bed. Any light soil, mixed 
 with a sufficient portion of stones, .is gravel ; and gravel, there- 
 fore, is nothing else than the different kinds of light soils, mixed 
 with a greater or less portion of stones. 
 
 Gravels, like sands, have all the gradations of quality, from 
 fertility to barrenness. The loose soils of this nature, in which 
 the undecomposed material is great, and the intervening soil si- 
 licious, are held to be the worst of their kind. These are, in 
 some places, termed hungry gravels, not only to denote their 
 poverty, but their tendency to devour, as it were, manure, with- 
 ovit any corresponding nourishment to themselves. As the tex- 
 ture an,d quality of the intervening earth improve, so does the 
 
 To tyrannise where there caa be no resistance, is the extreme of basenesB. 
 
the array generally fied, the snKlier Wii-? mis-.infy. 
 
 
 m 
 
 7 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 347 
 
 quality of Uih entire soil ; iind gr.ivvls, like s.inds and clnys, ad- 
 vancing through all the intermediate degrees, may become at 
 last of great fertility. 
 
 The rich gravels will produce all the cultivated kinds of grain. 
 Their looser texture rcndiTs them less suited than the clays to 
 the growth of wheat and bean'^. but they are admirably adapted 
 to the growth of bailey and oats. They are quick in their pow- 
 ers of producing vegetation ; and, from tliis quality, are termed 
 quick soils. They readily admit of alternations of herbage and 
 tillage, and improve in a state of perennial pasturage. They 
 are generally trusty soils, witli regard to the quality of the grain 
 which they yield ; and, in this re.-ipect, they differ from many of 
 the sands, in which the quality of the grain produced do'^s not 
 always accord wilh its early promise. Gravels, like sands, are 
 suited to the culture of the different kinds of plants raised for 
 their roots and tubers; and tliey are in so peculiar a det,nee 
 suited to the growth of turnips, that, in some p;irts, ihey jecri\e 
 the distiiiguisliing appella;ion of turnip soils. 
 
 The last division of tlio lighter soils con-ists of those which 
 are termed peaty. The matter of the soils of this class is dirk 
 in its color, spongy in its texture, and full of tlie si ems and other 
 parts of plants, either eniin- or in a state of partial decay. It is 
 generally tough and eliislic; and, when dried, loses !;re»ily of 
 its weight, and becomes inflam-mable. The ie, the most ob.-erv- 
 able characteristics of tlie soils termed pfaty, will disliuguisii 
 them, in their natural state, from every other ; and, even when 
 they shall have been greatly improved by ctilture, enough of 
 their original characters will remain to make thena known. 
 
 Peat, it h.as been said, consists of vegetable matter which has 
 undergone a peculiar change. Under a degree of temperature 
 not sufficiently great to decompose the plants that have sprung 
 up upon the surface, these plants accumulate ; and, aided by a 
 certain degree of humidity, are converted into peat, which is 
 either found in strata upon the surface of plains, or accumulated 
 in great beds on the tops and acclivities of mountains, or in val- 
 leys, hollows, and ravines. Successive layers of plants being 
 added to the mass, it continues to increase, under circumstances 
 favorable to its production. Water is a necessary agent in its 
 formation, and, we may believe, too, a peculiar temperature, and 
 not in the warmer regions of the earth, that it is found to be 
 produced. The plants which form it have not entirely decayed, 
 but still retain their fibrous texture ; and, from the action of 
 certain natural agents, have acquired properties altogether dis- 
 tinct from those which, in their former condition, they were 
 possessed of. They have now formed a spongy, elastic, iniiam- 
 
 Tlie greater the difScuUy, the more glory in surmounting it. 
 
of his death, having a pretty long beard, after his head was 
 
 348 EXTERNAL SIGNS AffD VARIETY OF SOILS. 
 
 ;3 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 H 
 
 mable body, and so different from the common matter of vege- 
 tables as to be bighly antiseptic. 
 
 The soil formed of peat would, from its vegetable composi- 
 tion, seem to contain within it the necessary elements of fertility, 
 and yet this 'is not found to be so. The excess of vegetable 
 matter which it contains is injurious rather than useful. In the 
 state of nature it is often found to be as barren as the sand of 
 the desert, and scarcely to deserve the name of soil, until the 
 labor of art has been extended to its impioveraent, and even 
 then it is not entirely divested of its original charactei-. 
 
 The effect of a thorough draining off of the water of peat, 
 continued for a long time, is to carry away the antiseptic matter 
 which it contams. When the watei' of peat has ceased to be 
 turpid, and comes off clear, then we have the assurance that the 
 peat is freed of the principles injurious to vegetation. This is 
 the greatest improvement of which peat is susceptible, and when 
 we have brought it to this condition, the main difiBculty of im- 
 proving it has ceased. 
 
 Peat mny, then, be brought to the state of what has teen 
 termed loam. In this ameliorated condition, it becomes soil of 
 the lighter kind, well suited to the culture of the large-rooted 
 plants. It is dark in its color, like the richest vegetable loam, 
 and, to the inexperienced eye, mrty pass as such. But still, un- 
 less greatly corrected in its texture, by the application of the 
 earths, it i.s found to be porous and loose, too quickly saturated 
 with moisture, aijd too easily fieed from it. In this improved 
 condition it will yield bulky crops of oats and barley, although 
 the quantity of grain will not always correspond with the weight 
 of the stem, nor the quality of the grain with its quantity. 
 
 Soils, then, we have seen, may be distinguished according to 
 their texture and constitution, when they may be divided into two 
 classes — the stiff or strong, denominated clays ; and the light or 
 free, subdivided into sandy, gravelly, and peaty ; and all these, 
 again, may be distinguished as follows : — First, according to 
 their powers of production, when they are termed rich or poor ; 
 and second, according to their habitual relation with respect to 
 moisture, when they are termed wet or dry. 
 
 This simple nomenclature of soils is sufficiently intellin-ible to 
 the practical farmer. The farmer chiefly regards soils with rela- 
 tion to their fertility and the means of cul tivating them ; and he nat- 
 urally classes them according to these views, A main distinction 
 between soils, in practice, is founded upon their comparative pro- 
 ductiveness, and this is the distinction which is most important 
 in regard to their value. We constantly refer to soils, with 
 reference to their good or bad qualities, without adverting to the 
 
 Such as waste their own property will not be careful of that of others. 
 
of your endeavors, but labor to compose your mind in 
 
 o 
 
 IB 
 
 i 
 
 09 
 
 ■3 
 1 
 
 .SP 
 
 (n 
 PI 
 
 EXTERNAL SIGNS AND VARIETY OF SOILS. 349 
 
 particular circumstances which render them good or bad in quali- 
 ty. We speak of it with reference to its fertility and value alone. 
 But tliose,.other distinctions, which are derived from its constitu- 
 tion and texture, are essential, when we regard the manner of 
 cultivating such a soil ; for the same method of tillage, and the 
 same succession of crops, as will be afterward seen, do not ap- 
 ply to all rich or to all poor soils, but are determined by the 
 character of the soil, as derived from its properties. 
 
 Though soils are thus distinguished by external characters, 
 they pass into each other by such gradations, that it is often dif- 
 ficult to say to what class they belong. These intermediate 
 soils, too, are the most numerous class in all countries. The 
 soils termed peaty, indeed, form a peculiar class, always marked 
 by distinctive characters ; but even these, when mixed with 
 other substances, pass into, the earthy soils, by imperceptible 
 gradations. We may say, therefore, that the greater part of 
 the soils consist of an intermediate class, and that it is often dif- 
 ficult to bring them under any division, derived from their text- 
 ure alone. Such soils, however, can always be distinguished by 
 their powers of production. They are good, bad, or intermedi- 
 ate, between good and bad ; and their relative value is deter- 
 mined by the produce which, under simihir ciicumstances, they 
 will yield. 
 
 The eartb, till tben 
 Desert and bare, unsiglitly, unadorn'd, 
 Brouglit forth the tender grasa, whose verdure clad 
 Her universal face with pleasant green ; 
 The herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd, 
 Opening their various colors, and made gay 
 Her bosom, smelling sweet; and, these scarce blown. 
 Forth flourisli'd thick the clustering vine, forth crept 
 The swelling gourd, up stood tlie corny reed, 
 Embattled in her field, and the humble ehrnb, 
 And bush with frizzled hair implicit. Last, 
 Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 
 Their branches, hung with copious fruit, or gemm'd 
 Their blossoms ; with high woods the hills were crown'd. 
 With tufts the valleys, and fountain side. 
 
 
 If you < hink twice before you speak once, you will speak twice the better for it 
 
business — another by laUiDg us with amusemeiiis. 
 
 h3 
 
 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 
 
 All nature is a. glass reflecting God, 
 As by the sea reflected is the sun. 
 Too glorious to be gazed on id his sphere. 
 
 Having examined the external cliaracters of soils, we might 
 inquire into their properties, as determined by chemical analysis. 
 This, however, is a branch of the extensive subject of agricul- 
 tural chemistry, into which it would not be consistent with the 
 practical and elementary nature of this work to enter at lehgth. 
 It is merely proposed, therefore, to direct the attention of the 
 reader to this part of the science of agriculture; and»to make 
 known to him a few results at which chemists have arrived. 
 
 The soil has been said to be a compound of mineral substan- 
 ces, mixed with a portion of vegetable and animal matter. The 
 vegetable and animal matter Of the soil exists either in a sta'te 
 of mixture, or of chemical union, with the minerals of the soil. 
 
 The mineral matter of the soil forms greatly the larger part 
 of it, and necessarily consists of the same substances which 
 constitute the mountain rocks and mineral masses that are 
 found on the earth, and form its crust or covering. The hard- 
 est rocks break down by degrees, and are decomposed by the 
 influence of air and moisture. Sometimes the decomposed 
 matter remains upon the rocky basis from which it had been de- 
 rived, and there forms a soil ; but more frequently the action of 
 water has mingled together the different mineral masses and 
 strata which are found on the earth. 
 
 The great body of the soil, then, is a mixture of the various 
 mineral substances which are upon the earth, and is resolvable 
 into the same constituent parts. Now all the rocks and other 
 mineral masses which exist on the surface of the earth, are 
 found to consist of a few bodies, the principal of which are 
 four earths — silica, alumina, lime, and magnesia — oxide of iron, 
 soda, and potassa. In hke manner, the great mass of the min- 
 eral part of the soil is resolvable into silica, alumina, lime, mag- 
 nesia, oxide of iron, soda, and potassa. 
 
 The manner in which this compound body may be conceived 
 to exist is the following. Let it be supposed that the different 
 minerals on the surface of the earth are more or less decom- 
 posed, bfoken, ground down, as it were, and mingled together". 
 Some are in the form of stones, and are therefore merely vari 
 
 So live with, men as if God saw you ; so pray to God as rf men heard you. 
 
1 iiij^an to do sonieilim^ a gie.U dtMl better for )iim." 
 
 
 1-5 
 
 m 
 
 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 351 
 
 eties of the different rocks of a country. These form loose 
 stones and gravel, which we see accordingly to be everywhere 
 mingled with the soil, and to form often a great proportion of it. 
 A more minute comminution reduces these mineral substances 
 to sand. This is the form in which the largest part of all soils 
 exist, and wlien it is in a very considerable portion to the whole, 
 the soil is termed sandy. 
 
 When the parts are more comminuted still, and reduced by 
 chemical or mechanical means to pow9er, the soil appears to 
 be in a state most favorable to .vegetation. All our finest soils 
 contain a large comparative proportion of their parts reduced to 
 this state of division ; and where none of this finely-divided 
 substance, or a small quantity of it only exists, the .soil, is bar-, 
 ren. Of the substances which form the constituent parts of 
 minerals, the most widely diffused is silica. Stones in which it 
 consists in large quantity are usually very hard. The sand &t 
 the seashore is mostly silicious, and siticious sand forms vast 
 deserts in every part of the world. 
 
 In quartz, and in feldspar, silica exists nearly pure, and it 
 forms ninety-eight parts in one hundred of common flint. It is 
 from its abundance in quartz, a mountain rock of universal dif- 
 fusion, and in feldspar, which is likewise one of the most abun- 
 dant minerals in nature, that silica is imJ)ortant as forming a 
 principal constituent part of all the loose mineral matter on the 
 surface of the earth, and consequently of all soils. Quartz is a 
 rock of constant occurrence, and its disintegrated parts have 
 been everywhere washed into the plains to form an element of 
 the soil. Quartz has been found to consist of silica, alumina, 
 and a small quantity of the oxide of iron. Quartz is also an 
 integrant part of sandstone and other rocks of general diffusion. 
 It enters largely into the composition of granite ^nd other pri- 
 mary rocks. It forms, in short, a part of the rooks in all the 
 series of formations which geologists enumerate ; and thus silica 
 is the mo^t universally diffused mineral substance on the sur- 
 face of the earth, and forms a part, accordingly, of every soil 
 that is known to us. 
 
 Alumina, next to silica, is the most generally diffused of the 
 earths. United with silica, it forms a great proportion of all 
 the rocks and mineral masses on the earth. It is accordingly 
 everywhere found, and forms a part of every soil not wholly 
 barren. Kneaded with water it becomes a ductile paste, and 
 is the substance which chiefly gives their plastic and ductile 
 characters to the soils termed clays. It retains water more 
 strongly than any of the other earths. Silica and alumina, then, 
 forming the largest part of the rocks and minerals which exist 
 
 Nothing can impair perfect friendship, because truth is the only bead of it. 
 
would say, tlius to tliern : "Gentlemen, at Londcin you are 
 
 1-5 
 
 362 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 
 
 upon the surface of the earth, enter the most largely into the 
 composition of soils ; and in these they are found to exist, 
 either as grains of sand, or as gravel, or in the form of fine 
 powder. 
 
 Lime, the next of the earths, is one whicji is of wide exten- 
 sion, and performs an important function in the vegetable econ- 
 omy. In nature,^ this naineral is usually found in combination 
 with acids. Combined with carbonic acid, it constitutes the 
 numerous varieties of marble, limestone, and chalk. In this and 
 other combinations, it exists iq roclts, in soils, in the waters of 
 the ocean, in plants, and in animals. It fornJs great beds and 
 nunierous minerals, in combination with silica and alupiina. 
 
 It is usually from the carbonate that the lime used in agri- 
 culture is derived. By exposing the carbonate to strong heat, 
 the carbonic acid is driven off, and that which remains is the 
 c&ustic earth, to which we give the name of quicklime. This 
 substance has a strong affinity to water, which it will absorb 
 from the atmosphere. When the water js applied in quantity, 
 it is absorbed by the lime, with a great evolution of heat ; and 
 this is the process of slaking, so well known. The lime thus 
 combined, with water attracts carbonic acid, and again becomes 
 carbonate of lime ; although in this state of carbonate, it pre* 
 sents external characters entirely different from those which it 
 possessed in its original state of marble, limestone, and chalk. 
 But it is in external characters only, and in the Ies§grndegree of 
 coljesion of its parts, that it differs, for otherwise the substances 
 are the same. , ,, ... ,., 
 
 By the minute division of its parts by beat, we are enabled to 
 apply lime to the soil in the state of a finely-divided powder, 
 and thus in the best form fof improving the texture of the soil. 
 It is from this cause, doubtless, as well as those important pur- 
 poses which it serves as a manure, that this earth is of such 
 importance to the husbandman. Could we apply the earth's 
 silica and alumina to the soil in their pure state, or could we 
 reduce them, by meclianical or chemical means, to powder, we 
 should be able to apply them in a form calculated to improve 
 the texture of the soil. 
 
 Lime exists in all soils formed by the decomposition of rocks ; 
 but in soils formed wholly by the aggregation of vegetables, as 
 peat, it does not necessarily exist. It improves the quality of 
 all soils, whether they are formed of silica, alumina, or vegeta- 
 ble matter. * 
 
 Silica, alumina,, and lime, forming the principal part of soils, 
 and, where any one of them prevails, giving its character to the i (| 
 soil, it is frequently convenient to distinguish soils, as being sili- | ' = 
 
 eg 
 
 If the clock of the tongne be not set by the dial of the heart, it will not go right. 
 
ways -were propounded to make hira rich. For his part, 
 
 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 353 
 
 ■■(3 
 
 cious, aluminous, or calcareous. Where silica prevails, as in 
 the case of many sands, we may call the soil silicious ; where 
 clay prevails, we may call the soil aluminous ; and where lime 
 exists in quantity, as in the case of chalk, we may call the soil 
 calcareous. Thus, in addition to the less artificial division of the 
 farmer, derived from the texture and external characters of the 
 soil, we may use those derived from its composition. 
 
 Magnesia, in various states of combination, exists in nature in 
 considerable quantity. It is generally found in combination with 
 acids, as the carbonic. It exists along with silica, alumina, lime, 
 iron, and other substances. The minerals of which it forms a 
 part, generally feel soft and unctuous. It is the principal con- 
 stituent of various mountain rocks, as serpentine and chlorite- 
 slate ; and thus being an element in many rocks and minerals, it 
 must form a considerable part of soils. Magnesia, however, is 
 less generally diffused than lime, and may perhaps perform a 
 less important function in the economy of vegetation. When it 
 exists in such quantity as to give a character to the soil, we may 
 term the soil magnesian. 
 
 The next substance that exists largely diffused in the mineral 
 kingdom, is oxide, or rather paroxide, of iron. This substance, 
 as it is the most useful of the metals, so it is generally diffused 
 on the earth. It is derived, for the purposes of the arts, from a 
 series of minerals termed ores of iron. It is found extensively 
 in mountain rocks, and it exists, accordingly, in more or less 
 quantity, in almost every soil. Its precise effects, hawever, on 
 the productive powers of soils, have not been well determined ; 
 some soils where it exists being extremely barren, while in some 
 very fertile soils, it exists in large quantity. Soils which con- 
 tain much of iron may be termed ferruginous. 
 
 The alkalies, soda and potassa, are also found in soils, being 
 extensive products of the mineral kingdom. They are found in 
 nature combined with various acids. Soils, then, consist chiefly 
 of silica, alumina, lime, magnesia, oxide of iron, potassa and 
 soda, together with a portion of matter derived from organic 
 substances. 
 
 From various experiments, it is known, that plants consume, 
 in growing, the decomposed animal and vegetable matter which 
 tb« soil contains. It is rendered probable, also, by experiments, 
 that a portion of the earthy matter of the soil — the silica, the 
 alumina, the lime, as well as various saline substances contained 
 in it — is absorbed by the plant, though in minute quantity, as 
 ^oimpared to the animal and vegetable matter absorbed. 
 
 Further, the medium of supply of the matter of nutrition con- 
 tained in the soil, may be regarded as water, holding in solution 
 
 Never purchase friends with gifts, forif you cease to give, they will cease to love. 
 23 
 
to none else !" The messenger answered, "Because 
 
 
 354 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 
 
 the vegetable, animal, and other matters which pass into the 
 roots of plants. The soil, then, may be chiefly regarded, 
 Jtrst, as the instrument for fixmg the roots of plants in the 
 ground ; and second, as a medium for conveying to them the wa- 
 ter, holding dissolved the different substances which pass into 
 the plant. 
 
 The air may be considered as a vehicle for conveying water 
 to the soil. It is continually charged with aqueous vapor, which 
 partly descends to the earth in rains, and is partly deposited in 
 the dews, in the cool of the night. In many countries it never 
 rains at certain seasons, and the whole moisture is supplied by 
 the dew. In this case, in an especial degree, and in all cases, 
 in a certain degree, the power of the earth to absorb moisture 
 from the air, may be regarded as connected with the means of 
 the soil to nourish plants. 
 
 ' All our fertile soils, accordingly, have a power of thus sup- 
 plying themselves with moisture, and of retaining it for a proper 
 time ; while infertile soils either have less of this absorbent 
 power, or retain the fluid absorbed for a shorter period. This 
 was known to the ancients, one of the marks of which they gave 
 a fei'tile soil being, that it freely imbibed water. Of the differ- 
 ent matters which enter into the composition of soils, animal and 
 vegetable substances possess the greater power of absorbing 
 moisture ; and the addition of animal and vegetable substances 
 always increase the fertility of soils. 
 
 Of the pure earths, the least absorbent is silica, and it is that 
 also which parts most readily with its moisture. A soil consist- 
 ing of too great a proportion of silicious sand is always infertile. 
 It imbibes the aqueous vapor of the atmosphere with slowness, and 
 parts with it quickly. A soil of silicious sand will scarcely be 
 penetrated by the dew of night; and will part with it on the first 
 action of the morning rays of the sun. 
 
 While pure silica will imbibe scarce a fourth part of its weight 
 in water, lime will absorb nearly its own weight, and alumina 
 two and a half times its weight. But while the silica will ab- 
 sorb a smaller quantity than alumina or carbonate of lime, it will 
 allow it to evaporate two times more quickly than carbonate of 
 lime equally divided, and five times more quickly than alumina 
 in the same state. The addition of carbonate of lime or alumina 
 to a soil containing too much silica, never fails to increase its 
 powers of absorption, and its fertility. 
 
 The order in which the principal substances that enter into 
 the composition of soils possess an absorbent power, is the fol- 
 lowing : — Mrst, animal and vegetable substances ; second, alu- 
 mina; iAW, carbonate of lime ; and fourth,s\\Ka,. It appears. 
 
 Rather pay wages than aecept gratuitous occasional services. 
 
in eight or tea months ;, the four canine or eye teeth 
 
 ■S. 
 
 •? 
 ■^ 
 
 e 
 
 CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF SOILS. 355 
 
 too, that the more perfectly a portion of the soil is comminuted, 
 decomposed, and reduced, the greater is the power of absorp- 
 tion which it possesses. 
 
 But although certain earths, in their separate state, have a 
 greater power of absorption than others, it does not follow, that 
 a soil consisting chiefly of that one earth would possess a greater 
 power of absorption than a soil composed of a mixture of earths, 
 even though these earths should, in themselves, be less ab- 
 sorbent. Thus, a soil consisting chiefly of aluniinous earth 
 — though alumina is the most absorbent of all earths, taking 
 water up in the greatest quantity when poured upon it, as well 
 as retaining it the longest — is not really so absorbent as when it 
 is mixed with other earths. Hence, the stiiFer clays are not the 
 soils which absorb water readily from the atmosphere. Such 
 soils, when the weather is dry, become indurated upon the Sur- 
 face, which presents an obstacle to absorption ; and thus we find. 
 that the vegetation of very stiff clays is almost as soon injured 
 by drought as that of sandy soils, and much more quickly than 
 that of good loams. 
 
 A mixture of silicious sand, then, with a very aluminous soil, 
 although the sand is the less absorbent substance of the two, 
 increases the general power of absorption from the atmosphere ; 
 so also does a mixture of lime, and, in an eminent degree, of ani- 
 mal and vegetable matter. 
 
 It is not, then, the prevalence of any one earth that consti- 
 tutes a soil well fitted to absorb humidity. A mixture of cer- 
 tain proportions of alumina and silica, of carbonate of lime, and 
 of vegetable, and animal matter, appears to be the best suited 
 for absorbing the humidity of the atmosphei'e, of preserving it, 
 and transmitting it the most regularly to the plant. 
 
 Neither is the prevalence of any one earth in a soil favorable 
 to its general powers of production. Too great a proportion of 
 alumina forms a soil too stiff and tenacious. Such a soil will, 
 from this cause, be found to be unproductive. A soil consist- 
 ing of carbonate of Jime only, as we see in the case of 
 chalk, is a bad soil. A soil consisting of alumina and car- 
 bonate of lime only, as we see in the case of clay-marl, is un- 
 productive as a soil, until mixed with other substances. A soil 
 consisting chiefly of silica, is often so barren as to be incapable 
 of sustaining vegetation at all. 
 
 It is an error, to hold that the relative fertility of soils may 
 be determined by their power to absorb water from the atmos- 
 phere. Peat-earth is a very absorbent soil, but it is not a soil 
 of great fertility. To infer that the fertility of soils depends 
 upon their powers either to absorb or to retain moisture, were 
 
 s- 
 
 a 
 B 
 S 
 B 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 Those who are paid for labor by presents, suppose themselves never paid. 
 
teata ^ubfeeefds. The sensorial pawefs are not develriped 
 
 ^ 
 
 .a 
 
 •a 
 
 iSe SOIL'S KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 
 
 to reason 'As if 'tliese were the only conditions Of fertility in 
 soils, Vhith'ddfes not appear to be the case; and experiments 
 do not bear out the conclusion that the fertility of soils depends 
 iipon these properties. But this may be inferred, that all pro- 
 diictive soils "^have a considerable power of absorbing moisture, 
 and retaining it when so absorbed, and that this property does 
 not depend on 'the prevalence of any one substance, but on a' 
 taixtui'e 6f several substances. 
 
 And it has been found that the fertility of soils, boweverl 
 produced, is not dependent on the prevalence of any one min- 
 eral in the soil, but on a mixture or combination of several.; 
 But what the 'precise proportion of these is which is most favor- 1 
 able to fertility, has hot yet been determined. 
 
 Never the ocean wave falters in flowing ; 
 Never the little seed stops in frowing ; 
 More> and more the rose heart keeps growing. 
 Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. 
 
 SOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 
 
 ■What read we here ? — existence of a God ! 
 Yes ; and of other beings, man aboYe; 
 Natives of ether ; sons of other climes 1 
 
 When we regard the distribution of plants in different re- 
 gions, we perceive that this is determined by causes which have 
 little relation to the nature of the soil on which the plants grow. 
 The soils of all countries are, in tlieir essential characters, alike. 
 The sariie mineral masses, composed of the same substances, 
 exist all over the world, and yield, by their disintegration or 
 decomposition, the same materials for the forming of soils. 
 
 But although the mineral matter of the soils of all countries 
 is thus similar in its constituent parts, it is altogether different 
 with the vegetation by which these soils are characterized. 
 Every zone, from the equator to the polar circle, is distinguislied 
 by a different vegetation, and different regions have their pecu- 
 liar plants. A district of granite, of sandstone, of trap, in 
 Southern Asia, will yield the same materials for forming soils 
 as similar districts in Northern Europe, while the vegetation pro- 
 duced will scarcely possess any common character. 
 
 To borrow an article and not duly return it, is an outrage on civility. 
 
heoce theii remains hare been considered as the b^sis vi 
 
 SOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PROPUCTIONiS, 357 
 
 
 Among the natural causes which aflfect the vegetatiom of coun- 
 tries, the- influence of temperature is that, which is the mgst ob^ 
 vious to the senses. When we pass from a warm country to a 
 cold, we perceive a change in the whole character of the vege^ 
 tation. We cannot ascend a mountain without Ending such, a 
 change in, the kinds of plants produced, and in the vigor in 
 which they grow, dependent on the change of temperature. 
 The degree of moisture, too, the distance or prpximity of the 
 sea, iiQd other circumstances connected with the climate and 
 I physical condition of the country, affect thei nature of its vege- 
 table productions, and show that the influence of the sqil, with 
 respect to the kind of plants produced, is entirely, subordinate 
 to that of temperature and the effects of climate. 
 
 When we extend, then, the range, of our observatioa to dif- 
 jferent and distant countries, we see that the nature, of the plants 
 cannot indicate that of the soils on which they grow, It is only 
 'within narrow limits, and under given conditions of efim^te, that 
 I the kinds of plants afford any indication of the nature of the 
 j soils which produce them. 
 
 i Within certain geographical limits, however, as those] of a 
 I country having throughout nearly the same climate with respect 
 to temperature and humidity, useful rules may be given for dis- 
 tinguishing soils by means of the plants which they produce. 
 iNumerous species of plants, indeed, will grow with equaj, read- 
 iness on different kinds of soil; yet there are other species 
 which affect particular soils, and in their wild state do not grow 
 on any other. Thus, there are plants whose natural habit is 
 peat, others, which grow on soils qharged with ipoisture, and 
 others, on soils which are dry ; some, which, under the like 
 conditions, humidity, and temperature, are proper to the light 
 and silicious soils, spme to the stiff and aluminous, some to the 
 calcareous, 
 
 But, as even within the limits of a single country, pretty 
 similar in its climate throughout, variations must exist q{ altitude, 
 and, consequently, of temperature; of exposure to particular 
 winds, and consequently, of humidity ; of proximity or distance 
 from the sea, and other circumstances afleoting the habits of 
 plants ; it is often difficult to indicate precisely the nature of a 
 soil merely by its prevailing vegetation. It is almost always 
 possible, however, to determine fiom this circumstjanqe, whel,her 
 tlie soil be wet or dry, and whether it be fertile qr infertile. 
 
 It is for the last-mentioned purpose, gamely, deteri»iping the 
 character of the soil with respect to its fertility, that the exam- 
 ination of its vegetable produce is the, mpsl important in prae- 
 tice: The nature of a, soil, with regard to its texture and com- 
 
 Diligeoce is a fair fortune, and industry a good estate to a young maq. 
 
■g candid of the proffession have allowed and lamented how unavoidably 
 
 a 
 
 ■■B 
 
 a 
 •3 
 
 358 SOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 
 
 position, will generally be best determined by an examination of 
 the substance itself. But its fertility, or power of production, 
 may be judged from its natural produce ; in' part from the 
 kinds of plants which are peculiar to it, and in part from the 
 luxuriance with which they grow. 
 
 When we cast our eye over a tract of country, we have 
 generally little difficulty in determining whether this tract be 
 barren or fertile. The general aspect of the vegetation, whether 
 stunted or vigorous, the absence or presence of heaths, the 
 richness of the sward, the cleanness and straightness of the 
 stems of the trees, the verdure of the foliage, and the like, 
 present to the eye a general character not readily mistaken. 
 
 When we discover a tract covered with luxurious grasses and 
 other plants, and with vigorous shrubs and trees, we naturally 
 associate these appearances with fertility in the soil itself. 
 When, again, we see a tract of heaths or naked sands, with the 
 plants small and sickly, the soil thinly covered with lichens, 
 mosses, and other inferior plants, the eye alone is sufficient to 
 indicate that the tract is absolutely or relatively infertile. The 
 same method of judging of the productiveness of the soil may 
 be extended to a iield or a farm. Let us direct the eye ov«r it, 
 and its general character, with relation to its vegetable produc- 
 tions, will impress us at once with an idea of its fertility or bar- 
 renness. 
 
 This conclusion, indeed, will not be so securely arrived at if 
 the surface be limited to a single field, and still less if that field 
 shall be cultivated, in which case the effects of aYt, and the 
 stimulus of cultivation, may disguise the natural characters of 
 the soil. But if the range of our observation shall be so ex- 
 tended as to take in a sufficient number of fields and objects, as 
 trees, shrubs, hedges, and natural meadows, we shall scarcely 
 fail, if the eye be at all accustomed to country objects, to arrive 
 at a tolerably correct conclusion as to the general character of 
 the soil in respect to fertility ; and our conclusions will be yet 
 more satisfactory and precise, if we know the particular kinds 
 of plants which thus give the character of infertility or produc- 
 tiveness to the soil. 
 
 The plants the most important in this species of examination 
 are the heaths, the grasses, and other herbage plants; that is, 
 in countries where they are the natural productions. In the 
 vast forests of America, a common method resorted to by set- 
 tlers for judging of the comparative productiveness of the soils, 
 is by ojbserving the kind of trees produced, whether pine, 
 fcedar>' hickory, or oak. This is because the principal vegeta- 
 ble pi-oductions here are wood. But in England the principal 
 
 Idleness doth waste a man as insensibly as industry doth improve him. 
 
^ cetved 1114 bodies. During this dire calamity, there were instances of B 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 SOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 359 
 
 vegetable productions are heaths, the grasses, and other plants 
 that form the sward. These may be said to cover the entire 
 surface of the country when not extirpated by art ; and they 
 there afford, accordingly, the readiest means which vegetable 
 productions present of judging of the properties of soils. 
 
 The fertility of soils, generally speaking, is denoted by tljeir 
 power to yield the useful plants ; and it is a law, with few ex- 
 ceptions, that the poorer the soil is, the less nutritious ai-e the 
 plants which, in its natural state, it produces. The soils of the 
 poorest class produce mosses, lichens, and heaths, which are 
 less nutritious than the grasses. As the soil improves in qual- 
 ity, the grasses become intermixed with the heaths, lichens, and 
 mosses. But the grasses are still inferior, and little nutritious. 
 As the soil continues to improve, the grasses become more val- 
 uable in their kind, and more numerous in their species ; and in 
 like manner, the leguminous and other herbage plants indicate, 
 by their kinds and greater numbers, the increasing fertility of 
 the soil. A square foot of rich old turf has been found to con- 
 tain one thousand separate plants of twenty distinct species ; 
 while a square foot of silicious sand will frequently contain not 
 more than half a dozen distinct plants, and those of a single 
 species. 
 
 In the northern latitudes of Europe, the plants most gen- 
 erally regarded as indicative of inferior soils are the heaths. 
 Some of the species of this family characterize, in their pecu- 
 liar manner, the sciils termed peaty. They Aie found, too, 
 abuhdantly, on the coarser clays or tills, on the poorer silicious 
 sands, as those lying upon or derived from quartz, on the poorer 
 class of calcareous soils, as chalk, and generally on all soils low 
 in the scale of fertility. 
 
 The soils where this kind of plant prevails are frequently 
 termed heathy soils, or heaths. Heathy soils have, however, 
 their relative degrees of productiveness, and this is generally well 
 denoted by the vigor with whjch the heaths peculiar to them 
 grow. Thus, a soil of stunted heaths may be regarded as 
 among the lowest in the scale of fertility, whilst a vigorous 
 growth of the plant may indicate a soil susceptible of improve- 
 ment and cultivation. 
 
 The author to whom we are indebted for this and the two 
 preceding chapters, with occasional alterations in style and ar- 
 rangement, has long catalogues of plants — one denoting barren, 
 and the other fruitful' soils — sufficient to fill about three of our 
 pages. Most of them are but little known, and would, simply 
 from their botanical names, present but little inteiest to the com- 
 mon reader. They are therefore altogether omitted. Those 
 
 i' 
 
 a- 
 a 
 a. 
 
 a 
 a. 
 
 5 If you spend the day profitably, you will have cause to rejoice in the evening. 
 
 3 
 
^ and face, was exactly divide4 by a sttaigbt-line into white and Mack, 
 
 if 
 
 i » 
 
 .Q 
 
 360 BOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 
 
 who desire to pursue such an investigation in detail, may consult, 
 hotanical works descriptive of the pUvnts o£ particular countries, 
 or districts, in which they will find the natural localities of par- 
 ticular plants indicated with more or less correctness. It is not, 
 therefore, necessary for us to extend our observations on this 
 subject. Hence, we shall now conclude the subject of soils, by 
 giving the reader a few rules for enabling, him to distinguish 
 soils in the situation in which they may be presented to him in 
 the business of agriculture. 
 
 Mrst, then, let him make such use of the indications afforded 
 by the natural produce of the soils as his .means of information 
 furnish. He may not know the narnes of the plants that are. 
 growing naturally upon the suiface, but he can always observe 
 whether they are growing with vigor, whether the sward is 
 thickly covered with species, and whether the general aspect of 
 the part to be examined indicates fertility or poverty. 
 
 A difficulty, which it will be well that he endeavor, in the 
 first place, to overcome, is to distinguish the peaty soils from the 
 earthy. He will experience little difficulty in this, when they 
 are distinct from each o|ther, and. covered by their natural her- 
 bage. But when they are subjected to cultivation, or intermin- 
 gled with the earthy soils of the same field, or when a soil con- 
 tains a certain portion of peat in its composition without being 
 entirely peaty, then the eye may be deceived from their resem- 
 blance to the dark-colored loams. The one class of spils,. how- 
 ever, may be of great fertility, and the other of great barren- 
 ness ; for it is to be observed that, though peat may be often 
 rendered fertile, its presence in soils is always suspicious. 
 
 The soils termed peaty, as before observed, are dark in their 
 color, and loose and spongy in their texture, even when im- 
 proved by art. The soils which they most resemble ia exter- 
 nal characters are the richer loaoisi, but they are more light and 
 spongy than these, and their color is of a duller dark than the 
 loams, which approach rather to a hazel hue. Peaty soils, too, 
 very generally lie on a retentive subsoil ; but perhaps the best 
 method of discriminating them, in the absence of their peculiar 
 vegetation, is by the stones which lie upon their surface. These 
 appear to be acted upon by the acid matter of the peat, and 
 present a white appearance, which, when, once observed, will 
 not be easily mistaken again. Coupling this indication with the 
 dull black, as distinguished from the brighter hazel of the loam, 
 and above all, with the peculiar vegetation and sterile aspect of 
 the surface, an observer will soon learn to distinguish the peaty 
 soils from the earthy. 
 
 In examining the earthy soils, an essential circumstaitce to be 
 
 The days we pass without doing Bome good are so many dayd entirely lost. 
 
ar« derived from the vegetable kingdom ; and tbere are five 
 
 SOILS KNOWN BY THEIR PRODUCTIONS. 361 
 
 regarded, is the depth of the soil, and the texture of the sub- 
 soil. A medium depth of a soil may be held to be from ten to 
 twelve inches. But it will be better that it exceed a foot, and 
 this greater depth of the soil is always a favorable indication. 
 If the depth of the soil does not exceed six inches, that is an 
 unfavorable indication. Such shallow soils are rarely good, ex- 
 cept sometimes when they occur resting on peculiar rocks, as 
 compact limestone, and certain easily-decomposed basalts and 
 porphyries. If a shallow soil shall occur on a retentive clay, 
 or on silicious- sand, we may certainly pronounce it to be bad. 
 When, in the common operations of tillage, the plough is con- 
 stantly turning a subsoil very different in color from the upper 
 stratum, that is an unfavorable indication. 
 
 When we find the rain in a furrow of ordinary descent carry 
 oflF the soil, and leaving the subsoil exposed, that is an unfavor- 
 ; able indication. It is desirable to see the water in the furrows 
 sink down, and be absorbed, instead of carrying off the surface 
 soil. If the soil be of a dull black color, and if it present on 
 tbe surface the white stones above referred to, that is an unfa- 
 vorable indication, as it shows that the soil has more or less 
 peat in its composition. 
 
 Again, if the soil produce sub-aquatic plants, it is wet. If 
 we find that such a soil is peaty, or shallow on a retentive sub- 
 soil, it is naturally sterile. If we find that the sub-aquatic 
 tilants are tall and vigorous, and the soil earthy and deep, the 
 removal of the excessive moisture may remove the cause of 
 infertility, and such a soil may become of the richest kind. 
 And if we find a soil producing naturally the superior herbage 
 plants and of good depth, that soil we may infer to be good. 
 When soil of this kind tends to a dark hazel color, we may 
 safely reckon it among those of the best class. 
 
 By attention- to these rules, and by a little observation and 
 practice, the difiBculty of discriminating soils will gradually be 
 lessened, and at length disappear. Those who have been used 
 to country objects rarely experience difficulty in discriminating 
 soils, in so far at least as these soils are to be distinguished by 
 their texture, into stiff and free, or by their powers of produc- 
 tion into rich and poor. 
 
 Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, 
 
 Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drop^ 
 
 From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 
 
 Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk ; 
 
 Or taste the smell of daisy, nr ascend 
 
 And see the country, far diffused ai'ound 
 
 One boundless blush, one white empurpled shower 
 
 Of mingled blossoms. 
 
 Hearken to the warnings of conscience, if you would not feel its wounds. 
 
 a 
 3 
 
two feet high, and the rocts pounded and bleached make the 
 
 MEANS FOR IMPROVING THE SOILS. 
 
 Gay green 1 
 Thou Bmiling Nature's universal robe ; 
 United light and shade I -where the sight dwells 
 With growing strength and ever new delight 1 
 
 The means at our command for increasing tlie productive 
 powers of Soils are numerous ; but they may be arranged under 
 the following general heads. First, furnishing the soil with 
 those organic and earthy substances which it may require, 
 Second, changing its texture, depth, and properties, by tillage 
 and other means. Third, changing its relation with respect to 
 moisture. Fourth, changing its relation with respect to tem- 
 perature. , 
 
 Vegetable and animal matters, in a decomposing state, appear 
 to act in various ways in increasing the productive powers of 
 the soil. They improve its texture, and they may, be supposed 
 to increase its power to absorb and retain moisture ; but, above 
 all, they supply that matter which, in whatever form conveyed 
 to the organs of plants, tends to nourish them. .This matter 
 being abSorbed by the roots of the plantSj it must be supplied 
 vfhen exhausted. 
 
 Experience has in every age accordingly taught the husband- 
 man to supply those substances to the soil ; and the doing so 
 forms one of the most important means at his command of main- 
 taining or increasing its fertility. Besides the animal and vegta- 
 ble matter which is mixed or combined with the mineral part, of 
 the soil, and is essential to its productiveness, the mineri^l parts 
 themselves, it has been seen, require to be mixed together 
 in certain proportipus and in certa,in states of division, in order 
 to produce the greatest degree of fertility. 
 
 Silica and alumina form the principal mineral part of 
 the soil. If one or other of these earths be in excess, the 
 soil is defective in its composition ; if the alumina prevail, 
 the soil is too adhesive ; if the silica prevail, it is too loose. A 
 medium is seen to be the best ; and although the precise pro- 
 portions in which the alumina and silica should exist have not 
 been determined, it is safer that there be a tendency to an 
 excess of alumina than of silica. Further, the fertility of the 
 
 Dwectly contradict none, except such as deal in bold and groundless assertions. 
 
abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure, and all unneces- 
 
 MEANS FOR IMPROVING THE SOILS. 363 
 
 I 
 
 soil depends on the state of mechanical division of these min- 
 erals. 
 
 It would appear, then, to be a mean of improving the com- 
 position of a soil, to add to it silicious matter when it is found 
 to be too stiff, and aluminous matter when it is found to be too 
 loose ; and further, to reduce these substances to their greatest 
 degree of mechanical division. 
 
 Sometimes, accordingly, we have the means of improving the 
 constitution of the soils, by mixing sand with clay, or clay with 
 sand. But in practice, the direct mixing of these two substan- 
 ces for the purpose of pi'oducing a soil of better texture is rare : 
 first, because the expense of this species of improvement is 
 considerable ; and, second, because, in the state in which clay 
 and sand are usually available for this purpose, it seldom hap- 
 pens that the aluminous matter of the one, or the silicious mat- 
 ter of the other, is in that state of minute division which is 
 favorable to fertility. 
 
 It is otherwise with the earth lime. This can, in all cases, 
 be reduced by heat to that state of minute division which is 
 favorable to the productiveness of soils; and hence it can 
 always be applied with benefit to those soils in which it is want- 
 ing. Lime is sometimes mixed in its natural state with alumi- 
 nous and silicious matter. It then forms marl, a substance 
 which is frequently applied to soils to improve them. It is„ 
 chiefly to the lighter soils that marl is suited ; for then not only 
 is lime supplied, but alumina, which improves the texture of the 
 soil. It is by means of this mixture that some of the greatest 
 improvements on silicious sands that have taken place in Eu- 
 rope have been effected. 
 
 There are cases in which even calcareous matter is in excess 
 in soils. This occurs especially in districts where the chalk for- 
 mation exists. When the earthy stratum resting upon the 
 chalk is very thin, the chalky matter becomes mixed with it, 
 and being then in excess, forms a barren soil. An obvious 
 method of amending the composition of a soil of this kind is by 
 adding any of the other earths, whether the silicious or alumi- 
 nous. We need not here scruple to apply them, because the 
 clay is coarse or the sand is gritty. We may add them in 
 almost any form in which they can be conveniently pro- 
 cured ; for the effect will be to improve the composition of the 
 soil. 
 
 There is another case in which, in like manner, silicious and 
 aluminous matter may be applied directly in almost any state in 
 which they can be found. This is in the case of peat. Here 
 the vegetable matter is in excess, and the addition, accordingly, 
 
 Eehd ember that one dollar in your purse will do more honor than ten spent 
 
the charm of cleanliness never ends but with life itself. 
 
 364 MEANS FOR IMPROVING THE SOILS. 
 
 n 
 
 of any other earths, is an amendment of the composition of the 
 soil. 
 
 We see, then, that the composition of soils may be improved 
 by the addition of animal and vegetable matter, and also, in 
 many cases, by the addition of those earths in which they 
 may be deficient, and in an especial degree, of lime, which 
 we can always apply in the form of minut^ division best suited- 
 to improve the composition of the soil. This is i\iQ first of the 
 means referred to of adding to the productive powers of soils. 
 And the second mode referred to of increasing the productive 
 power of soils, is that of altering their texture, depth, and prop- 
 erties, by tillage and other means. 
 
 The mere effect of that comminution of the parts of the soil 
 which it undergoes in the common operations of tillage, is seen 
 to have a beneficial influence on the productive powers of the 
 soil. Whether the soil imbibes from the atmosphere anything 
 besides aqueous vapor or not, it is known that the exposure of 
 the matter of the soil to the atmosphere, and the comminuting 
 of its parts by tillage, add permanently to its fertility. Thus, 
 we learn from experience the good effects of tilling the land 
 well. Soils once tilled are rendered for the most part more pro- 
 ductive by the process. Peaty turf, if suffered to remain in its 
 original state, may continue to produce nothing but the most 
 useless plants ; but if merely ploughed and exposed to the in- 
 fluence of the atmosphere, it will at once tend to produce grasses 
 of a better kind, and of greater variety. And again, if a sub- 
 soil of coarser clay be exposed to the atmosphere, it is generally 
 at first very unproductive ; and it is not until after long expo- 
 sure that it becomes productive. This is most remarkable in 
 the case of clay-marl, a substance in itself containing the mate- 
 rials of a fertile soil, but which is often barren, until after pul- 
 verization and the influence of the atmosphere. 
 
 It is, indeed, conformable to analogy, as well as to experience, 
 that soils should be improved by pulverization and exposure to 
 the atmosphere. In our examination of the constituent parts of 
 soils, we have seen that their fertility is in a great degree indi- 
 cated by the proportion of minutely-divided earthy matter which 
 they contain. The effect of tillage, therefore, may be reasona- 
 bly supposed to promote this division, both by the mechanical 
 action of our instruments, and by exposing the particles of the 
 soil to the action of the air. 
 
 Another purpose sometimes promoted by tillage, and subser- 
 vient to the amendment of the soil, is the deepening of the 
 upper stratum. The subsoil, it has been seen, is distino-uished 
 from the soil, properly so called, by the former containing less 
 
 Plato inculcates this great precept — Dp tlune own work, and know thyself. 
 
have experienced, he observed, that the more business i 
 
 ■« 
 
 MEANS FOK IMPRdvrNG THE SOILS. 355 
 
 vegetable and animal matter, and so being less suited to the 
 nourishment of plants ; and in certain cases it is even found to 
 be injurious to vegetation. It is generally important, hovfever, 
 that there be good depth of soil ; and thus it is often expedient 
 for the effecting of a permanent irnprovement of the surface to 
 plough up and mix with it a portion of the subsoil, even though 
 that subsoil should be in itself infertile^ 
 
 The third mode referred to of increasing the productive 
 powers of soils, is changing their relation with respect to 
 moisture. In warmer countries, the soil is comparatively little 
 injured by an excess of water, and more frequently suffers from 
 the insufficiency of it. In northern climates, however, the op- 
 eration of conveying away the water which is in excess, is an 
 essential one, and, if neglected, the best devised scheme of im- 
 provement may fail. The superfluous water is either stagnant 
 upon the surface, or percolates below it. The freeing of culti- 
 vated land from water upon the surface gives rise to the for- 
 mation of land into ridges, by which the water escapes without 
 stagnating upon the ground, or sinking into the subsoil below. 
 This is an object necessarily connected with tillage, and as such 
 deserves the attention of every practical farmer. 
 
 As draining is more required in the colder countries, so irriga- 
 tion, or the watering of land, is less required there than in those 
 countries where the heat and eva'p6ration are greater. The for- 
 mer of these means is becoming better understood in this coun- 
 try than formerly ; and, on lands requiring it, is not of unfrequent 
 adoption. Irrigation, however, though a curious and interesting 
 branch of rural economy, is but little known among us. It has 
 been practiced by the Chinese and Egyptians from the remotest 
 antiquity. In countries where rains seldom fall, and the ground 
 becomes parched and dry, it is of immense value. The best 
 example, probably, of its fertilizing effects, may be seen in the 
 lands along the banks of the Nile and the Ganges. 
 
 The last of the means referred to of increasing the productive 
 power of soils, is by changing the relation with respect to tem- 
 perature. It will readily be perceived, that this is less within 
 our power than the other three modes named. It is only by 
 slow degrees that we can improve the clitnate of a country. 
 Something may be done by draining and hedges — stone walls, 
 and high, close fences ; but the process is slow, and the results 
 are extremely limited, upon large farms. It is only to gardens^ 
 nurseries, and grounds of limited extent, that anything like ad-i 
 equate protection can be artificially furnished. A moderate 
 share of experience, however, will satisfy any one, that for the 
 latter a power may thus be communicated to soils almost incred- 
 
 Expect not assistance in your necessities frbinfortoer vicious companions. 
 
virtue whicli it seems to hide ; the perfections of men bemg 
 
 366 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES, 
 
 <S 
 
 ibie. Let two gardens be selected in the same neighborhood, 
 in other respects with the same culture ; but to the one, all pos- 
 sible protection against wind and cold be given, while the other 
 is left completely exposed, and the products of the former will 
 be incomparably better than those of the latter. 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES." 
 
 Nature, in her productions, slow, aspires 
 By just degrees to reach perfection's height. 
 
 All substances which, when mixed with the matter of the 
 soil, tend to fertilize it, are, in common language, termed ma- 
 nures ; for example, the contents of stables and barn-yards, marl, 
 ashes, fish, salt, lime, and every description of animal and veg- 
 etable substance. Chemical analysis shows us, that all plants, 
 and all the products of plants, are resolvable into a small num- 
 ber of simple bodies, in various states of combination, as has 
 been explained in a previous chapter. These bodies are car- 
 bon, hydrogen, oxygen, and in smaller quantity, nitrogen and 
 azote. These form the essential constituents of all vegetable 
 substances. But there are likewise found in plants, though in 
 comparatively minute quantity, certain other bodies, consisting 
 chiefly of the four earths, silica, alumina, lime, and magnesia, 
 of the oxide of iron, and, in small quantity, the oxide of man- 
 ganese, and of the alkalies soda and potassa, but chiefly the 
 latter. 
 
 Now, all these bodies, or the elements of all these bodies, 
 exist in animal and vegetable manures ; for these being animal 
 and vegetable substances, are resolvable into carbon, hydrogen, 
 oxygen, and nitrogen, with the intermixed earthy and other 
 bodies existing in the living plants. 
 
 In supplying, therefore, animal and vegetable substances to 
 the soil in a decomposing state, we in truth supply the same 
 substances which enter into the composition of the living plants. 
 These substances, indeed, exist in the dead matter of the ma- 
 nures, in states of combination different from those in which 
 they exist in the living vegetable ; but still they are present,- 
 and must be believed to supply the matter of nutrition which 
 the plants in growing require. Science has made known to us 
 the truth, that the living plants and the dead manure are re- 
 
 Live not to the extent of your income — save something for the day of misfortune. 
 
revolution of tlie planets. They move in their orbits with so 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 367 
 
 2 
 
 ^ 
 
 solvable into the same elementar}' substances ; but experience 
 has not the less taught the husbandman, in every age, that all 
 animal and vegetable substances, mixed with the matter of the 
 soil, tend to fertilize it, by affording nourishment to the plants 
 it produced. 
 
 The simple bodies which form the substance of manures exist 
 in various states of combination. Now there is reason to be- 
 lieve that, in order that the solid matters, formc^l by these sim- 
 ple bodies, may be absorbed by the roots of the growing plants, 
 they must be dissolved in water. The absorbi^ig pores of the 
 roots of plants are so minute, that they are only to be discov- 
 ered by powerful optical instruments. The solid bodies, there- 
 fore, which find their way into these pores, may reasonably be 
 supposed to be held in solution by the aqueous fluid which en- 
 ters into the roots of plants, and forms the sap. Water is ap- 
 parently the medium by which all the matter of nutrition, in 
 whatever form, is conveyed into the roots of plants, and with- 
 out which, accordingly, vegetation is never known to tate place. 
 Holding this opinion to be just, the substances which form veg- 
 etable and animal manures, before they can be made available as 
 nutriment to plants, must be rendered soluble in water. 
 
 Of the means which nature employs for this purpose, fer- 
 mentation appears to be the chief. By this process, the ele- 
 mentary parts of the substance fermented assume new forms of 
 combination, and become fitted to supply the matter of nutri- 
 tion to plants in that form in which it can be received by the 
 pores of the roots. The fermentative process is completed after 
 the substance to be used as a manure is mixed with the matter 
 of the soil ; but it is common, also, to cause it to undergo a 
 certain degree of fermentation before it is mixed with the earth. 
 This is the method of preparing this class of manures for use, 
 which is employed in the practice of the farm. 
 ' Animal matters decompose with facility when acted on by 
 moisture and the air, the greater proportion of their elementary 
 parts making their escape in various forms of gaseous combina- 
 tion, and leaving the earths, alkalies, and part of the carbona- 
 ceous matter remaining. When this decomposition takes place 
 beneath the ground, these gaseous comp&unds, as well as the 
 carbon, which, -when it combines with the oxygen, assumes also 
 the gaseous state, may be supposed to be partially or wholly 
 retained in the earth, to afford the matter of nutrition to the 
 plants. 
 
 Purely animal substances, which thus readily decompose, do 
 not absolutely require fermentation before they are mixed with 
 the soil. Yet even in the case of purely animal substances. 
 
 Blame not before thou hast examined the truth ; understand first, then rebuke. 
 
giving life and motion to innumerable objects. Like its 
 
 368 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 So 
 
 certain beneficial consequences may.result from subjectjng them 
 to a previous state of fermentation. Thus, the urine of animals,: 
 when applied in its recent state to the soil, is not found to act 
 so beneficially as a manure, as when a certain degree of previ-' 
 ous fermentation has been produced. And there is another 
 purpose promoted by causing even pure animal matter to un- 
 dergo fermentation ; and this is, that, being mixed with vegetable: 
 matter, it promotes the more speedy decomposition of -vegeta-: 
 ble fibre. 
 
 Vegetable fibre, under certain circumstances, is a slowly de- 
 composing substance. When vegetables are green and full of 
 juices, they readily ferment ; but when the stems are dried, as: 
 in the case of straw and other litter, they decompose with slow- 
 ness, and the mixing them with animal matter hastens the pu-' 
 trefactive-fermentation. This mixing of animal with vegetable' 
 matter is the process employed for preparing the greater part of 
 the dung of the farm-yard. 
 
 The dung of the farm-yard is the produce of the hay, straw,j 
 turnips, and other substances used as provender or litter upon 
 the farm. It is collected into one or more yards, and fresh 
 litter and all other refuse being added to the mass, it gradually 
 accumulates, until it is carried out into the fields for use. Thus 
 it is seen that the dung of the farm-yard is a collection of ani- 
 mal and vegetable substajices. It consists of the excrements 
 of the animals kept and fed upon the farm, together with the 
 straw or other naaterials used as litter, and generally of the 
 refuse and offal produced about the premises. This mixed mass 
 is collected during the period of feeding, when it undergoes a 
 certain degree of fermentation. When trodden by the feet of 
 the animals kept in the yards, the effect is to exclude the exter- 
 nal air, and to prevent the fermentative process from proceeding 
 with that rapidity which would take place were the mass not 
 compressed. 
 
 The principal animal substances which are mixed with the' 
 ligneous fibre of the litter, and which cause it to undergo de- 
 composition, are the dung and the urine of the animals. The! 
 properties of this dung, to a certain extent, depend upon the 
 kind of animals and the nature of their food. The dung of 
 horses is easily fennented, and is more readily decomposable, in 
 proportion to the succulence and nutritive qualities of the food 
 consumed. This also holds with respect to the dung of oxen. 
 When the animals are fed on straw and the dried stems of 
 plants, the dung is less rich and decomposable than when they 
 are fed on turnips, oil-cake, and other nourishing food ; and the 
 same holds with respect to the dung of the hog and other ani- 
 
 To fear God and keep Ms commandmenta is the whole duty of maa 
 

 i-J 
 <i 
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 P 
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 o 
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 pj 
 
 FQ 
 S 
 
 X 
 cd 
 
 9*- 
 
 *\\ 
 
 /'S 
 
 
 '*^^<#^' 
 
 ..;=-*S'a 
 
from its surface ; and that its density is at least eighty times 
 
 ANIJ|AL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 369 
 
 ra 
 
 mals. The dung of the different feeding animals is mixei in 
 greater or less propcft-tion with their litter, and the grfeater the 
 proportion of the animal to the vegetable matter, t£e more 
 readily will the latter ferment and decompose. 
 
 The urine of the animals, again, is in itself a very yich manure, 
 and contains, in certain states of combination, all the elements 
 which enter into the composition of plants. It is necessarily 
 mixed with, and partly absorbed by, the litter and other sub- 
 stances in the yards, and it hastens, in a material degree, the 
 fermentation of these substances. The urine, however, is apt 
 either to make its escape, by flowing out of the yards, or to be 
 imperfectly mingled with the litter. It becomes, therefore, a 
 part of the management of the farm-yard to provide against 
 either of these contingencies., 
 
 With these exceptions, the management of the farm-yard is 
 not attended with any diflScnlty. We have seen that the mass 
 consists of a collection of the excrements of the animals kept 
 upon the farm, of the straw and other substances employed fpr 
 jitter, and generally of any refuse^or oflFal produced' on the 
 premises ; and that this mixed subltance is acoumiilat'ed chiefly 
 during the months of winter, undergoing, during tliis period, a 
 certain degree of fermentation and decompositioa,, in the yards 
 where it lies. The substance thus collected' and 'partially fer- 
 mented, is to be applied to the grounds duringjthe months of 
 spring, summer, or autumn, immediately after the winter in 
 which it has been prepared. It should always be apQJied as 
 soon after it is prepared as possible, there being a waste either 
 in retaining it too long, or in causing it to undergo a greajer de- 
 gree of fermentation than is required. '- 
 
 In the process of putrefactive fermteitatidn, the elements of 
 the body fermented, in assuming their new forms of combination, 
 partly make their escape in the gaseous state. In the fermen- 
 tation of manures, the decomposition may proceed so fast that 
 the great mass of the substance shall be exhaled, leaving behind 
 only the earthy and alkaline, and a portion of the carbonaceous 
 matter of which it was composed. In the treatment of this 
 class of substances, itlierefore, the putrefactive fermentation 
 should neither be continued longer, nor carried to a greater de- 
 gree, than is necessaiy for the purposes intended. 
 
 In practice, our purpose is to produce certain kinds of crops; 
 and certain kinds of plants, it is found, require a greater action 
 of manures at particular stages of their growth than others. 
 Thus, the turnip, the carrot, and the beet, which are sown in the 
 early part of summer, require that the manure appligd shall be 
 in such a^tate of decomposition as to act upon and nourish them 
 
 Do not that to another which thou wouldst not have done to thyself 
 24 
 
thousand miles in every direction beyond the orbit of that satellite, 
 
 370 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 in the first stages of their growth ; and, if this be not so, the 
 ;crop may entirely fail. In these and similar cases, accordingly, 
 a complete preparation of the farm-yard dung is an essential 
 point of practice. Certain plants, again, do not require the same 
 state of decomposition of dung. Thus, the potato requires less 
 in the first stages of its growth than the turnip, and hence it is 
 not necessary to subject the manure to be applied to the same 
 degree of fermentation. 
 
 But, while no necessity exists for fermenting the matter of the; 
 farm-yard beyond the degree requisite for the special purpose 
 intended, it is always a point of good practice to ferment it 
 to that degree. In order to know when dung is suflBciently fer- 
 mented for the use required, a very little practice and observa- 
 tion will suffice. When it is fully fermented, the long stems of 
 the straws which formerly matted it together are in such a 
 state of decomposition, that the parts can be readily separated 
 by a fork. It is not necessary in any case that ft be in that ex- 
 treme state of decay in which we often see it used by garden- 
 ers, ^nd when it can be cut by a spade like soft earth. When- 
 ever farm-yard dung has been fermented to this degree, it has 
 been kept beyond the proper time, and the management has 
 been bad. 
 
 Benignant Providence ! 
 What mortal sense is able to divine 
 Thy mysteries, thy counsels manifold 1 
 It is thy wisdom strangely that extends 
 Obscure proceedings to apparent ends. 
 
 To give up a good cause because it wants success, is to turn infidel and apostate. 
 
m a year, and yet it -would take such a traveler more than 
 
 ■S 
 
 i 
 I- 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 
 
 The heart is hard ia nature, and jinfit 
 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 
 'Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 
 To love and friendfihip both, that is not pleased 
 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 
 Nor feels their happiness augment his own. 
 
 A TARS proportioned to the size of a farm and the nnmber 
 of cattle kept upon it, is as necessary as the kitchen in a 
 house. It should be located on the south side of th« barn, that 
 in the cold season of the year tire sun may freely shine into it. 
 This is desirable for the conifort of the cattle, as well as to fur- 
 nish increased facilities in making manure. With such a loca- 
 tion, vegetable substances will much more readily ferment and 
 decompose. On the noith side of the barn, and screened by it 
 from the rays of the sun, for months all the animal excrements, 
 together with the vegetable remains, might exist in one com- 
 pact frozen mass ; and of course not susceptible of those chem- 
 ical processes requisite in preparing it for use — or of being 
 removed from the place where collected, without great incon- 
 venience and labor. 
 
 It would be well that the barn-yard be furnished with sheds 
 on the east and west sides. These sheds would protect the 
 cattle from the chilling and cold winds coming from those op- 
 posite directions, and affording them ample shelter in the sea- 
 son of being fed, especially young cattle. For the latter, these 
 sheds, of some sort or other, seem indispensable, if the cows 
 and oxen are kept in stalls. The value of these sheds would 
 be increased if they stood on deep stone foundations laid in 
 mortar. This would preveat the escape of the liquid portions 
 of the manure underneath them ; and, if there were on the 
 south side of the yard such a foundation for a close board fence, 
 the contents of the yard would be completely protected. A 
 stone wall on the south side, thus laid in mortar, wo.uld be yet 
 better. 
 
 If the barn were to stand on tbe south or south-east side of 
 a little mound or bill, with a cellar under it, open toward the 
 sun, the other three sides built up for a foundation to the barn, 
 with a good stone wall laid in a similar manner, the fixtures for 
 manure would be adequate for all ordinary purposes. The 
 
 It is the privilege of human nature above brutes, to love those -that offend us. 
 
of these parts from the sun ; Venus, at seven ; the Earth, 
 
 s 
 
 > 
 to 
 
 » 
 
 372 PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 
 
 increased amount and quality of manure made in two or three 
 years, with such conveniences, would be more than a full com- 
 pensation for the entire cost of them. As they would in this 
 manner pay for themselves, the farmers of limited pecuniary 
 means might have them as well as others. Indeed, they would 
 be one of the principal means for making such as have them 
 prosperous and independent. An abundance of manure and 
 judicious tillage will usually make agriculturists thrifty, if not 
 affluent. An independent farmer in the neighborhood of the 
 author was extremely poor when young. He commenced the 
 cultivation of his lands, by borrowing money to purchase a 
 hundred dollars worth of manure annually. The consequence 
 was, that his farm speedily produced enough to cancel the loan, 
 and in process of time to make him comparatively a rich man. 
 
 There is another reason for such enclosures to the barn-yard, 
 and such a cellar to the barn. There would be no hiding-places 
 for rats, weasels, skunks, and other similar nuisances. By fur- 
 nishing secure places for shelter and breeding to such noxious 
 vermin which seek to congregate about the outbuildings of a 
 farm, the loss is much greater than most persons imagine. If 
 they become numerous, how soon will they destroy ten or fifteen 
 dollars worth of grain and poultry ! It will take but a short 
 period for it, especially in autumn. Wisdom dictates, that con- 
 nected with no one of the outbuildings should there be any 
 recesses for their protection. 
 
 Whether a barn-yard be on level ground or on the side of a 
 hill, the outward edges of it should be so raised up as to pre- 
 vent any escape of the liquids or juices of the manure. The 
 centre may be four or five feet lower than the surrounding mar- 
 gin. This margin may be ten or twelve feet in width, which 
 will be always dry and comfortable for the cattle or the person 
 who attends them. Here they may be fed. Here they will 
 sleep. The central part, surrounded by this margin, from 
 twenty to fifty feet in diameter, will resemble a huge flat bowl. 
 The dirt excavated in forming it will make, or assist in making, 
 the margin described. If the ground is spongy or sandy, the 
 bottom of the basin should be well paved with stones, or a! thick 
 coat of clay spread over it, so that the liquid part of its con- 
 tents may not filtrate away, and be lost. If there be a cellar 
 to the barn, the bottom of it should be on a level with the margin 
 of the yard. And daily, or at suitable periodical seasons, if Uie 
 cattle be fed or sleep on the margin, the solid excrements and 
 the litter, and the waste feed, should be removed to the basin, 
 so that they may be kept clean. The liquid excrements, of their 
 own tendency, will go to the basin. 
 
 What is pride ! a whizzing rocket that would emulate a star. 
 
 ■«9 
 
4S0 miles an hour, this body would reach the orbit of Mercury 
 
 
 PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 373 
 
 Much of the foregoing outline for a barn-yard is in conformi- 
 ty with the views of the late Judge Buel, to whose good sense 
 and practical wisdom the agricultural interests of this country are 
 much indebted. When the barn-yard, said he, is thus prepared, 
 the first thing to be done is to overlay the whole bottom with 
 six or twelve inches of peat or swamp earth, where it is at com- 
 naand ; and where it is not, witli earth from ditches, the road- 
 side, or other rich deposits. It is then fit for the reception of 
 the ct-ttle, and , all the waste vegetable substances that accumu- 
 late or may be gathered up from the farm at successive periods. 
 These materials will absorb or take up the urine and other 
 liquids, and, becoming incorporated with the dung, double or 
 treble the ordinary quantity of manure. During the continu- 
 ance, the excavation occasions no inconvenience ; and when the 
 weather is soft, the margin of the yard, as remarked, affords a 
 dry passage to the barn, as well as a comfortable retreat for the 
 cattle. To guard against the wasting influence of the sun in 
 summer, a roughly-constructed covering, supported by posts, 
 might be erected over this basin or central depot. 
 
 The barn-yard of the author is projected on the principle of 
 Judge Buel, and is partly constructed accordingly. As yet it 
 does not embrace the entire details of the plan. He is in part 
 relieved from the immediate necessity for it, as he depends 
 mainly on the cellar for a depot in collecting his barn-yard ma- 
 nure. Over the cellar are stalls for his oxen and cows, the floor 
 being an inclined plane of moderate descent, thus carrying the 
 liquid excrements to a g*tter a little behind them, to be ab- 
 sorbed by the litter, extended thither for that purpose. When 
 this object is sufficiently accomplished, the whole, with the solid 
 excrements, is dropped through a trap door into the cellar be- 
 neath, to be mixed with whatever vegetable refuse and filth may 
 be there deposited. To accelerate the preparation of this homo- 
 geneous and heterogeneous mass, his corn-stalks all pass through 
 a cutting machine. A due quantity is then removed in a basket 
 to the crib of the cattle, where they eat what they will ; and on 
 the following day what remains is again removed and spread 
 for litter, to be subsequently deposited with the mass in the 
 cellar. The same process is followed with the straw and coarse 
 hay. By this means the dung is thoroughly mixed with the 
 litter and vegetable waste, by which also the urine is completely 
 absorbed. And as an additional advantage, whether the fer- 
 mentation and decomposition is sufficiently advanced or not, the 
 whole is fine, and of a proper consistence to be conveniently or 
 thoroughly mixed with the soil in the succeeding spring and 
 summer. Experience for a few years, and observation for many 
 
 Prosperity, alas ! is oftea but another name for pride. 
 
it has only about 333,000 times as much matter. And it 
 
 374 PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 
 
 years, has shown him the utility of this or some analogous sys- 
 tem of operation. He heheves that he speaks moderately in 
 saying that his manure would sell annually, at auction, for more 
 than half the entire value of his stock of cattle and swine. True, 
 labor has been bestowed upon it. 
 
 The remarks of the American agriculturist, just named, are 
 so much in unison with our own views, we will transcribe an 
 entire paragraph. Farmers, says he, should regard manure as 
 a part of their capital — as money — which requires but to be 
 properly employed to return them compound interest. They 
 should husband it as they would their cents or shillings, which 
 they mean to increase to dollars. They should economize every 
 animal and vegetable substance upon the farm, and where it 
 has subserved other useful purposes, apply it by mixing it 
 properly with the soil, to the increase of the coming harvest — 
 put it to interest, that it may return the owner its per centage 
 of profit, in grain, roots, and forage, and ultimately in the in- 
 crease of meat, and in the products of the fleece and the dairy. 
 Every load of manure, well applied to the farm, will increase its 
 products to the value of one dollar. The farmer, therefore, who 
 wastes a load of manure, is as reckless and improvident as he 
 who throws away a bushel of corn. Not only what is denomi- 
 nated dung, as the contents of the cattle and hog yards, and 
 the clearings of the stable — the amount of which may be in- 
 creased greatly by weeds, vines, and forest leaves — but the rich 
 earth of swamps and ditches, and urine, and soap-suds, may be 
 converted into farm produce of great value. He that will not 
 feed his crops with manure, should not complain if his crops 
 fail to feed him with bread. 
 
 The cattle should be kept constantly yarded in winter, except 
 when let out to water, not only because, if suffered to run at 
 large, they poach and injure the fields and meadows, but because 
 they waste their dung ; and the yard should be frequently re- 
 plenished with fresh litter. Upon this plan, from ten to twelve 
 loads of manure may be obtained, every spring, from each ani- 
 mal wintered in the yard. And whenever the yard is thorough- 
 ly cleansed for the spring crops, it ought to be again bedded 
 with fresh earth, and well littered. 
 
 It has been calculated by those who have made experiments 
 on the subject, that a cow will void, on an average, about four- 
 teen pounds of dung daily. If this were mixed with double 
 that weight of rich loam, or muck, or decayed vegetable sub- 
 stances, id the manner above proposed, it would in one year be 
 a quantity sufficient to manure an acre of Indian corn, allowing 
 three pounds for every hill. It is also affirmed by Dr. Dana, 
 
 Derotion in distress is bom, but vanishes in happiness. 
 
from a 24-pounder with a velocity of nineteen miles a 
 
 PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 
 
 375 
 
 •i 
 
 ^ 
 
 that the liquid manure produced by one cow in a year, if ab- 
 sorbed by rich loam or muck, is sufficient to fertilize one acre 
 and a quarter of land, in a substantial manner. Hence, the an- 
 nual evacuations of one cow, when properl}' preserved and ap- 
 plied as here recommended, will manure over two acres of land. 
 If so, of which we cannot doubt, a cow, in manure, may be made 
 to pay, or nearly pay, for her feed. The same also might be 
 affirmed of other stock. And this is a legitimate h3'pothesis of 
 philosophical deduction, as well as of experiment. For it would 
 be the most unphilosophical assumption to say, that the fertil- 
 izing agents from the excrements of a cow, or any other animal, 
 are less in amount than those drawn from the earth in the form 
 of animal nutrition. 
 
 While this shows, on the one hand, how much is usually lost 
 by agriculturists, in not properly availing themselves of the 
 means within their reach for fertilizing their lands ; on the other 
 hand, it sets forth the most cogent inducement for making this 
 subject an object of primary attention in cultivating them. The 
 results of Professor Mapes would satisfy the most incredulous, 
 not only of the moderation of our estimates, but that they are 
 below facta under his own observation. This gentleman, well 
 known as a man of science, is becoming more honorably known 
 as a practical farmer. His labors are of the most useful char- 
 acter, and will place him among the greatest benefactors of his 
 country. His farm is in the neighborhood of Kewark, N. J., 
 and has been visited by those the most competent to judge of 
 the principles on which he cultivates it, and they uniformly 
 sustain the position we here assign to him. 
 
 lu a letter recently addressed by him to the managers of the 
 American Institute, he says, " My greatest resource for manure 
 is the great Jersey meadow, reaching from Newark to Bergen, 
 every foot of which is capable of being converted into manure 
 of the best quality. A single inspection of this meadow will 
 convince the observer that its upper stratum is composed of or- 
 ganic matter not in a state of decay ; and from its surface being 
 parallel to the water level, it is also evident that the mass of the 
 matter is the result of washings from the uplands, by rains, for 
 centuries past — since its deposit, such portions of its own decayed 
 vecetable matters as receive their carbon from the atmosphere 
 have increased the mass. Does it not naturally suggest itself, 
 that to restore the vigor to the upland, this matter must be car- 
 ried back to the place whence it came ? 
 
 To render this material suitable for manure, it is only neces- 
 sary to put it in a state of decay, and this I do by several meth- 
 ods — indeed, I have tried all the m^hods given by Johnson, 
 
 Kevenge, thoqgh sweet at first, ere long bitter, back oa itself recoils. 
 
to consiet of two, and sometimes of three or more stars. Dr. 
 
 376. ' PLAN OF CATTLE OR BARN YARDS. 
 
 <a 
 
 •§ 
 S 
 s 
 
 I 
 
 Dana, and others, and they all answer the purpose well. My 
 cattle stall, containing six oxen and tliree cows, will make more 
 than one cord per day, equal in quality to horse manure. It is 
 arranged in the following manner. 
 
 Under the hind feet of the cattle is dug a gutter two and a 
 half feet deep and three and a half feet wide. The surface of 
 this gutter is covered with Roseudale cement, made fluid with 
 water, and put on with a watering pot, until the earth refuses to 
 absorb the moisture. In two days it is as solid and hard as a 
 stone. This trench is then filled with meadow muck to the level 
 of the stable, which is covered over with salt hay or straw for 
 bedding. The fluid manures voided by the cattle will pass through 
 this bedding, and be absorbed by tlie muck. Every four days this 
 mass is taken out, that time being found sufficient to supply it 
 with the materials for decomposition. It is then placed under 
 a shed, and in three weeks in summer, or ten weeks in winter, 
 it will be as fine as the best stable manure, having gone through 
 the heatings and fermentation. I am perfectly convinced that the 
 urine of animals received by muck while the animal warmth is 
 in the urine, and then assisted by the warmth of the animal lying 
 upon it at night, will decompose ten times as much as would be 
 decomposed by the same amount of urine previously suflisred to 
 cool in a cistern." 
 
 The sun — the sun — what life and joy it gives 1 
 Alone to men ? Nay, more, to brutes, also ; 
 Tes, brutes, untaught by human speech or ken, 
 Are truly warm'd and cheer'd by Sol's bright rays. 
 
 He that revenges tnows no rest; the meek possess a peaceful breast. 
 
clear winter night tliey appear innumerabe. The illusion 
 
 5 
 
 •a 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 <a 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 So slow 
 The growth of what is excellent, so hard 
 T" attain perfection in this nether world 
 
 The barn-yard, as described in the preceding chapter, might 
 be a receptacle for everything of the animal and vegetable kind 
 possessing fertilizing properties. For substances found in small 
 quantity this is doubtless the best place ; of this class may be 
 named the refuse of the shambles, consisting of blood, hair, and 
 filth of every description. Of course, animals that die of disease 
 may be mixed up or buried in loam, to be used as manure. 
 The offal of tan-yards is of the character. So are the shavings 
 and. clippings of horn, to be had of comb-makers. So are the 
 hair and wool of animals, wherever found. So are woolen rags, 
 feathers, old hats, old shoes and boots, fragments of leather, and 
 the refuse of a tallow-chandler establishment. Whatever of the 
 above is to be obtained, should be collected, and with other waste 
 substances carried to the barn-yard, and converted into manure. 
 The quantity of either may appear small, and scarcely worth 
 regard ; but it will be found that the aggregate in a year would 
 be no contemptible mass. It is by attending to such small 
 things, that the agriculturist, as well as the man of business, 
 becomes prosperous. There are, however, other animal and 
 vegetable substances, most valuable for manures, obtained in 
 larger amounts, and deserve more particular notice. The 
 present chapter is devoted to them, under distinct heads. 
 
 The diinc] of poultry will be first considered. Most farmers 
 may not keep enough to render it an object to provide poultry 
 houses, with conveniences to save their excrements. It is be- 
 lieved, nevertheless, that the subject is of more importance than 
 generally supposed. If the quantity obtained is small, it is 
 powerful enough, as a fertilizer, to merit attention. The author 
 has been able to collect from twenty to thirty bushels annually, 
 without any particular effort. This he has used in his garden 
 for onions, melons, carrots, and, indeed, for whatever grows in 
 a garden ; and the increase of his crops has been a sufficient re- 
 muneration for the trouble. This last year he mixed it with 
 other substances for a compost, which will be more particularly 
 
 Never put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day. 
 
miles from the centre, its weight is one-fourth of a pound ; 
 
 378 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 described in another place. It is desirable, especially if an im- 
 mediate result is expected, tliat it should be reduced to as small 
 particles as possible. If it is cast upon the soil, or buried up in 
 it, in large lumps, it requires a long period for an entire disin- 
 tegration of its parts, so as to yield nutriment to the plant ; and 
 immediately in the vicinity of the deposit, it may be too power- 
 ful for the purpose intended. If what is termed guano is of 
 value to justify the prices paid for it, the inference is very fair, 
 that a kindred article, to be had on our own premises without 
 money or price, save the labor of collecting it, should not be 
 despised. 
 
 Ouano is the excrements of sea-fowls, and is an earthy sub- 
 stance of a grayish brown color. It is found mostly on the 
 islands and coasts of Africa and South America, in latitudes 
 where the weather is so dry that decomposition has proceeded 
 slowly, and it has consequently accumulated in large quantities. 
 Some of the deposits are fifty or sixty feet in depth. Its value 
 has been known to the inhabitants of Peru from time immemo- 
 rial. They are indebted to it altogether for the fertility of their 
 crops. In those volcanic regions nothing, as it were, can be 
 raised williout it. In England there is a general demand for it, 
 so that in a single year, from July, 1844, there were imported 
 thither 373,000 tons, at an average value of thirty-three dollars 
 per ton. In tlie United States the use of it is quite recent, and 
 the demand comparatively small. 
 
 Fish as a Manure. — On the sea-coast, and in some instances 
 at the mouth of large rivers, fish are used as a manure. On 
 the shores of the Elbe, occasionally immense quantities of her- 
 rings are caught and thus used. The most common way ia to 
 spread the fish, and in a few days to plough them under. But 
 the better mode is to cover them with quicklime, and subse- 
 quently to mix them with earth. In a short period they are 
 decomposed. Or they may be strewed in layers on compost 
 beds, with peat, ashes, slacked lime, charcoal, and vegetable 
 matters. It becomes a powerful fertilizer. In the districts 
 where fish are so easily obtained as to be used for this purpose, 
 the mode of doing it has become so well understood by practi- 
 cal farmers, as to render any further account of it altogether 
 unnecessary. 
 
 Bones as a Manure. — Bones are becoming a common fertilizer. 
 They may be broken into small pieces, and spread upon com- 
 post heaps ; or they may be buried about the roots of grape- 
 vines, thus rendering the soil loose, and yielding to the plant a 
 rich oleaginous nourishment. All farmers may do this. But 
 the best mode of using them, is when reduced to powder. For 
 
 Never trouble others with what jou can do yoursel£ 
 
a fresh gale, twenty or thirty miles an hour ; in a violent 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 379 
 
 this purpose there are mills, particularly in the neighborhood 
 of large cities, where they can be easily obtained. Sometimes, 
 instead of being ground to fine powder, they are broken into 
 pieces of an inch or less in length. Ground bones are sold at 
 prices from thirty to forty cents a bushel. From ten to twenty 
 bushels of the dust to the acre are applied. All lands are much 
 improved by such a dressing ; but the effects on sandy and light 
 soils are sometimes most extraordinary. One bushel is said to : g- 
 be equal to three cart-loads of barn-yard manure. It should j ^ 
 not be buried deep in the soil, for its natural tendency is to sink ; 1 2 
 and being slowly dissolved by the rain, care should be exercised '■ S' 
 not to place it beyond the reach of the roots to be nourished by "^ 
 it. The value of bone-dust arises from the fact that all seeds j & 
 contain a large quantity in their ashes, and the soil is naturally ; ;; 
 not well supplied. Seed crops are well known to exhaust lands 
 rapidly, and chiefly because they remove the bone earth or 
 phosphates of the soil. 
 
 Jffight soil, or human excrements, is knoWn to make a very ac- 
 tive manure. It diflFers essentially in composition from tlie e.v- 
 erements of domesticated animals. Its own quality probably 
 varies according to the food from which it is produced. Jt is 
 an undeniable fact, the excrements voided by human beings who 
 live chiefly on animal food, are much more active and efficient 
 as manure than those whicli proceed from persons whose diet is 
 principally composed of , vegetables. 
 
 Those who know how to turn these fecal matters to the great- 
 est possible account, and can surmount the disgust which the 
 use of them occasions, prefer them to all other kinds of manure. 
 It has been asserted that the excrements of a man are capable 
 of producing a quantity of vegetable matter sufiicient for his 
 own support ; but if this assertion is an exaggeration, there is 
 no doubt that if these excrements were carefully collected, and 
 used in the best manner, the quantity of aliment obtained from 
 them would be so great that a dense population might in this 
 way very nearly approximate to that estimate. At present, 
 tliey are generally left to decompose, without being turned to 
 any account ; or are carried off by drains to large rivers, and 
 thus to the sea. An unskillful application of this material has 
 sometimes led to a prejudice against it, and consequently an 
 abandonment of it. Here the objection to it originates not in 
 the fault of the article itself, but a want of due skill in its use; 
 an evil, the remedy of which lies within the reach of every one. 
 
 Night-soil -produces surprising effects when carried to the 
 land before its fermentation i§ completed, and carefully spread ; 
 over it. The best way, however, of using it, is to form it into 
 
 !? 
 
 »«1 
 
 Avoid, if possible, spending your money before you have it 
 
an elevalion of 13,000 feet, we find the frosta of the frozen 
 
 a 
 1 
 
 s 
 
 -<1 
 
 380 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 a kind of compost, by mixing it with other substances, and 
 especially by making it into heaps with turf, loam, or muck, 
 and adding a small quantity of burnt lime. This is the advice 
 of Thaer. By this means the superfluous energies are reduced 
 to the requisite standard, and the effect extended over a greater 
 space, without any danger of impairing, by this diffusion, the 
 energy of the {^ctive matters it contains. This manure then 
 loses its fetid odor, and becomes divided and mixed up with the 
 other substances, and forms a fertile soil. It should be well 
 compounded by successive trartsformations, when it becomes 
 fine, and is easily spread over the ground, which is the best 
 mode of applying it. 
 
 We will here add the experience of the author, which is on 
 the same principle, but more extended. His privy is on the 
 back side of a small hill. The vault is a little less than three feet 
 in depth, the back side of it made of plank like a door, to be 
 removed at pleasure, or plastered up tight. When the contents 
 were taken away, in the fore part of winter, there was at hand 
 a sufiBcient quantity of loam to be mixed with them, either be- 
 foie or during the process of drawing them out with a boe. 
 Enough of this loam was added to destroy any tendency to a 
 liquid form, and to render it so dry as to be managed well with 
 the shovel. Then it was removed to its destined place of de- 
 posit, where it remained a few weeks. On thawing, it was 
 overhauled, more loam added, the year's produce of coal ashes,, 
 and also the contents of the poultry house, each in alternate 
 layers, making a square heap of about ten cords. Subsequently 
 it was again and again transformed, till it resembled poudrette, 
 only not unifornqly so fine. In the proper season of spring, 
 the whole was spread on his garden, making it produce satis- 
 factorily. His peas were fine. His strawberries yielded plen- 
 tifully. And from a bed of cari'ots, of seven drills or rows one 
 hundred feet in length, the produce was forty bushels, some of 
 them measuring eighteen ipches in circumference, and pretty 
 frequently twelve inches, and of due length. 
 
 The above was the process of 1848. The privy deposits had 
 been accumulating for two years. After the first removal, there 
 was no odor to be troublesome ; and even then it was so man- 
 aged as to be less so than expected ; clear days and westerly 
 winds being selected for the labor; and the laborers, of course, 
 managing so as to be always on the windward side. Kindred 
 to the above, we will add, that in an appropriate place he has a 
 quantity of loam, receiving accessions as required, on which 
 daily are cast the urine removed from the sleeping departments 
 of the mansion. Heie they filtrate till the entire mass is satu- 
 
 Avoid buying what you do not want, though it be cheap. 
 
ted valley in Switzerland, the heat is so much increased 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 381 
 
 n 
 
 rated, when more loam may be added. Dr. Dana justly remarks 
 — Rich as are the liquid evacuations of the stable and cow-yardj 
 they are surpassed by those of the farmer's own dwelling, espe- 
 cially when it is considered with what ease these last may be 
 saved. Each man evacuates, he adds, annually, enough salts to 
 manure an acre of land. Some form of geine only is to be ad- 
 ded to keep the land in heart, if the farmer has but the heart 
 to collect and use that which many allow, like the flower unseen, 
 "to waste its sweetness on the desert air." 
 
 Poudrette, probably from the French word poudre, signi- 
 fying powder, is a manure manufacturtd from night-soil, dried 
 and mixed up with variable quantities of ground peat and plas- 
 ter. Its value will depend on the circumstance, whether its 
 ammonia is saved or lost in the manufacture. If sulphate or 
 muriate of lime is added before drying, then the volatile car- 
 bonate of ammonia will be changed into sulphate of ammonia 
 and sal ammoniac. Thus, not only the most valuable portion 
 of night-soil will be retained, but the salts of lime will be much 
 increased. The peat not only retains a portion of the gaseous 
 ammonia, but its geine by this act is rendered more soluble. 
 All night'Soil from vaults has begun to evolve ammonia, 
 hence the advantage of mixing ground peat with night-soil be- 
 fore drying. 
 
 It is evident, therefore, that the value of poudrette depends 
 on the skill and honesty of the manufacturer. But allowing 
 these to be what they should be, no consumer of poudrette will 
 think himself wronged, if he discovers ground peat in the arti- 
 cle ; and allowing this and the plaster, or other salts added, to 
 compose one-half of the weight of this manure, the farmer buys 
 in every hundred pounds of poudrette, two hundred pounds of 
 the best human excrements, and in a form not only portable, 
 but perfectly inoffensive. In the neighborhood of our large 
 cities, where night-soil may be had in any desired quantity, pou- 
 drette is prepared. In the neighborhood of Paris, there is a 
 large establishment for it. The Belgians make great use of 
 this kind of manure. . They import it and procure it from con- 
 siderable distances even in the form of a paste, not regarding 
 its offensive odor. It is also highly valued in China and Japan, 
 and is hence sometimes called Japan manure. 
 
 The Excrements of Swine.^-Eo farmer is wholly unaware of 
 the value of this article of manure ; yet it is apprehended that 
 few only realize the quantity that may be obtained from a well- 
 designed piggery — a term, if not found in dictionaries, is well 
 understood. It is not known that the value of hog-dung has 
 been determined from analysis of its elements ; and it is said. 
 
 Pride usually costs as much as hunger, thirst, and cold together. 
 
the former prevent the access oi the solar rays to the earth 
 
 382 «N1jMaL and VfiGElABLE MANURES. 
 
 that which is dropped when tne animal runs at lai^e, possesses 
 inconsiderable fertilizing power. The urine, however, is voided 
 in great excess, and is classed by chemists, for fertilizing energy, 
 with human urine. When swine are confined in pens, the solid 
 excrements are mixed with the liquid, and both with any other 
 substances lodged there, making one of the very best composts 
 with which we are acquainted. The quantity of the urine will 
 saturate and impregnate a mass of peat, muck, or loam, of in- 
 credible size. The habits of the hog cause every particle of 
 what is placed in his way to be reduced to one consistence, and 
 apparently one substance. Nothing with him is untouched. 
 Nothing remains long in the same place. He compounds, seem- 
 ingly, as well as a druggist. Place what you will before him, 
 weeds, straw, leaves, feathers, loam, or turf, and on looking for 
 it the next day, it will not be found ; something else of quite 
 different appearance may be seen in the place of it ; the grunter 
 looking up with a silly cast of importunity, not unlike that of a 
 politician seeking office, as if he desired additional materials for 
 his laboratory. 
 
 Although the author has not made his arrangements for ma- 
 nure from his hog-pens satisfactory to himself, yet, imperfect as 
 they are, they have yielded him already a fertilizing agent more 
 than equal in value, according to his belief, to the cost of feed- 
 ing his swine up to the period of the fattening process. From 
 what he has done, he is sanguine that he can do even much 
 more. His past efforts are quite simple, and the story is quick 
 told. In the summer season, all descriptions of vegetable waste 
 from the garden^potato vines, the tops of beets, turnips, ra- 
 dishes, pea-pods, and the like — the superabundant tubers, when 
 growing too near to each other-^and weeds of every description 
 from the garden, from the vicinity of fences, and from the bor- 
 ders of tillage land, are collected as carefully as gold now is in 
 California, and handed over to the pigs, to be devoured or mixed 
 with their own excrements. This practice is pursued throvigh 
 the season. After the forest leaves fall, as often as once a week, 
 half a day is spent with a cart in bedding their pens with this 
 article. To be collected with ease, it should be done immedi- 
 ately after a fell of rain, or in the morning after a heavy dew. 
 Then they can be easily managed with a rake and dung fork. 
 Within a week from the time of being put into the pen, it would 
 be difficult to tell of what the compost there was made, so com- 
 pletely have they been torn to pieces and mixed up with the 
 excrements and other matters deposited in the same place. 
 Loam may also be cast in too. This improves the compound. 
 
 To hasten the process, daily, or oftener, scatter over the whole 
 
 We never repent of eating or drinbhig too little. 
 
toises, lizards, and serpents, are well known to have existed 
 
 a 
 
 r-' 
 O 
 
 >■ 
 m 
 
 J3 
 
 s 
 
 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 383 
 
 area small quantities of shelled corn. No danger of its being 
 lost. They will reconnoitre every inch of the space, and over- 
 turn every pound of this heterogeneous stratum to find the ker- 
 nels from a single cob. Apparently, never will they be wearied 
 in doing it. Thus they will toil hour after hour for months. A 
 single hog in this yfa,y will in a few weeks furnish his owner 
 with a cord of excellent manure. If one hog will fufnish one 
 cord, it is needless to say that ten in the same time will furnish 
 ten cords. How soon in this way will they pay for themselves 
 and all the food that has been given to them 1 
 
 It may seem to some, and perhaps be said, that there is not 
 vegetable nutriment enough in the seared leaves of a whole 
 township to raise a bushel of corn. No argument will be raised 
 against the assertion. Possibly one might as well plant a hill of 
 corn in a peck measure filled with pebble stones, as in a mass 
 of such leaves completely deprived of communication with sur- 
 rounding objects. But we are not to forget that even seared 
 leaves are full of vessels which once were filled with sap — ves- 
 sels which then absorbed vegetable nutriment from the atmo- 
 sphere. Placed in a proper position, these vessels may be again 
 filled with fertilizing agents, as well as the blood-vessels of an 
 animal may be filled, after their own native fluid is expelled or 
 dried up, with wax, as in anatomical preparations. They are as 
 much the preserving receptacles for fertilizing agents, as the 
 vials of a doctor's chest are for the most valuable medicines. 
 Do all the pores of a piece of sponge, or a lump of refined con- 
 crete sugar, become filled to their utmost capacity on being 
 placed in contact with water or any other liquid ? So do the 
 substances of which we are speaking. 
 
 True, if they are again allowed to come into fi-ee contact with 
 the action of the atmosphere, the sun and the wind, their con- 
 tents will all be discharged as effectually as the contents of a 
 vial when the cork is removed. Hence, they should be de- 
 prived of this action as much as possible. Hence, when re- 
 moved to the soil the compost is designed to fertilize, it should 
 be ploughed in or otherwise covered over with as little delay as 
 practicable. Hence, too, an obvious reason why all manures 
 should be under cover, otherwise much of their fertilizing en- 
 ergy will pass off — will evaporate. Why is it that persons are 
 so careful, in usipg what is called a smelling-bottle, to lose no 
 time, from removing the stopper till placing it in contact with 
 the nasal organs ? It is to prevent the loss of its contents, 
 which evaporate and escape with the rapidity of thought or of 
 lightning. And why will not ammonia, the best portion of 
 manure, as readily escape from a dung-heap as from a smelling- 
 
 L. 
 
 Earely is that troublesome which we do willingly. 
 
will follow ihat a full-grown person respires 48,000 cubic 
 
 384 ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE MANURES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 bottle ? These are matters of common sense, as well as of phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 Professor Mapes' Plan for a Piggery. — He says, My hog-pen 
 is made a valuable adjunct for the manufacture of manure from 
 meadow muck. It is constructed thus : A treilch was dug two 
 feet wide, and five deep around the piece of ground to be en- 
 closed, in the form of a parallelogram, perhaps sixteen by thirty 
 feet. This ditch was then filled with stone. Afterward a fluid 
 grout was made — one part Rosendale cement, and two parts of 
 sand — so thin, that when poured on the top of the stones in the 
 trench, it ran down to the bottom and filled up all the intersti- 
 ces, maldng one solid mass. This labor was begun at one cor- 
 ner ; and when that point was filled, the operator advanced, 
 filling it up as he progressed, till he reached the place where he 
 began. In a few days this was as solid as one stone, and en- 
 tirely impervious to water. Then, a space inside this wall, 
 three feet wide, was saturated with soaper's waste or spent lye. 
 The earth, thus saturated, was dug out to the depth of a foot, 
 and a foot and a half, alternately, making a succession of inclin- 
 ed planes. The saturated earth removed from this ditch to the 
 adjacent shed was good manure. The yard was now comple- 
 ted ; enclosed by the wall ; adjoining it a ditch ; and the por- 
 tion within the ditch remaining as it was, appearing like a mound. 
 At one end of the yard stands the hog-house; the floor on a 
 level with the top of the wall, so that the inmates pass out and 
 in at pleasure on this mound. 
 
 Everything being thus in readiness, muck, and weeds, and no 
 matter what, is daily cast upon this mound. Upon this shelled 
 corn is now and then scattered ; and here the hogs frolic ^nd 
 root till the materials for the manure are all worked down into 
 the ditch. Once in ten days the contents of the ditch are re- 
 moved to the shed, ready for use ; and another outfit of mnck 
 is thrown upon the mound. So the work goes on, from the 
 beginning of the year to the end of it. If after the fall of rain 
 too much water collects in the ditch, it is removed to the muck 
 on the mound by a pail fastened to a pole, making a kind of 
 spoon or dipper. If the contents of the yard suffer for the 
 want of ttioisture, water is carried to it from' the adjacent cis- 
 tern or well. Soap-suds and all kinds of house-wash might 
 here contribute to the increase of the products of the farm. 
 
 The glorious sub 
 Stays in his course, and plays the alchyOiist, 
 Turning, with splendor of his precious eye, 
 The meagre, cloddy earth to glittering gold. 
 
 How much pain those evils cost us which never happen I 
 
the vital priaciples or currenta from which every 
 
 § 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 .a 
 
 g 
 
 MINEKAL MANURES. 
 
 Wide flush the fields : the softeniDg air is balm ; 
 Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
 And every sense, and every heart, is joy. 
 
 The mineral substances which are employed as manures, may 
 be supposed to exert two modes of action. Mrst : They may 
 act upon the soil by improving its texture, or by renderinpf sol- 
 uble the parts of it which are insoluble ; or by otherwise fitting 
 it to promote the growth of plants. Second : They may act 
 immediately upon the plant itself, being received into its sub- 
 stance. 
 
 The manner in which this action takes place upon the organs 
 of the plant may elude our observation; but this much may be 
 admitted, that certain earths, oxides, and alkalies, or earths, 
 oxides, and alkalies combined with acids, pass into the substance 
 of the plant, absorbed, it may be, in part, from the atmosphere, 
 but chiefly, along with the aqueous portion of tlie sap, from 
 the earth in which the roots are fixed. Some substances taken 
 up in this latter mode are known to act as poisons, while oth- 
 ers exercise a beneficial action on the plant. 
 
 We cannot generally distinguish when a mineral substance 
 acts upon the plant, through the medium of a change in the 
 soil, or when it acts directly upon the plant itself. All that we 
 truly know is, that certain earthy and alka,line bodies, or their 
 saline combinations, applied to the soil, promote the growth of 
 plants, and so, in the language of farmers, are manures. 
 
 Both the chemical action of lime, and the effect which it pro- 
 duces as a manure, appear to be of two kinds. On one hand, 
 it acts on the humus or vegetable mould by accelerating its de- 
 composition, and rendering it soluble, and thus fit to enter the 
 minute fibres of the roots of plants. This is the reason that an 
 amelioration composed of lime is the more eEScacious the richer 
 the soil is in Ibis mould, and that its action is the more sensible 
 in proportion as this mould is of an insoluble nature. Lime de- 
 prives sour humus of its acidity, and renders it fertilizing. But, 
 on the other hand, there is every probability that by means of 
 its carbonic acid, hme also produces some other effect, and fur- 
 nishes the plants with some actual nutritive matter. The roots 
 of certain vegetables, in particular, appear to have the faculty 
 of depriving hme of, its carbonic acid, which it immediately re- 
 
 When angry, always count ten before you speak. 
 "25 
 
London, a distance of 120 miles ; and, liaving been let off 
 
 386 MINERAL MANURES. 
 
 I2i 
 
 a 
 p 
 
 60 
 
 •43 
 
 EO 
 
 .9 
 
 absorbs in equal proportion from the atmosphere with which it 
 comes in contact. 
 
 It cannot be denied that an amelioration of lime invariably 
 produces some efiect, even on land which contains a very small 
 quantity of vegetable mould, and that a repetition of this amend- 
 ment is never without its effects ; although they are,' of course, 
 very far inferior to what they might have been if the soil had 
 contained more humus, or had been manured with vegetable or 
 animal matter capable of producing that substance. Besides, 
 every one must be aware that lime communicates a peculiar de- 
 gree of vigor to some plants, and that the roots of these can 
 even penetrate rough limestone, artd in a manner decompose 
 it. This remark is particularly applicable to sainfoin, the tap- 
 root of which penetrates from ten to twenty feet deep in calca- 
 reous stone, and there pjits forth numerous clusters of lateral 
 roots, which render the stone loose and friable all around them. 
 The deeper the roots of this plant penetrate, the more vigor- 
 ously does it shoot, evert on calcareous rocks or stony places 
 which are only covered by a very thin layer of poor soil. 
 
 Lime which has been calcined and deprived of its carbonic 
 acid is much better for the amelioration of land, and far more 
 efficacious, than carbonate of lime. In its former state, it con- 
 tributes infinitely more to the decomposition of the substances 
 with which it is united, find acts far more efficaciously on or- 
 ganic matter than it does in the latter. But we must admit 
 that its increased efficacy arises from another cause. It very 
 soon re-absorbs equally as much carbonic acid from the atmos- 
 phere as it lost during the process of calcination, especially 
 when, after having been thus reduc-ed to powder, it is mixed 
 with the superior layer of the soil. 
 
 But the carbonic acid which it has thus recently regained is 
 not, in general, so intimately combined with the lime as not to 
 be easily absorbed by any plant the roots of which come in 
 contact with it. The lime continues to attract fresh portion^ of 
 this substance, and thus a permanent communication of carbonic 
 acid is established between the lime, the roots of the plants, and 
 the atmosphere. This may serve to explain the reason that 
 even calcareous soils may be remarkably fertilized by the ad- 
 dition of lime ; and that a sensible efiect is produced by an 
 addition of this substance, even when the soil already evidently 
 contains a greater quantity of it, which has been accumulated 
 there by former amendments. 
 
 On DO soils are the effects of lime so beneficial as on those 
 which contain a great quantity of sour humus prejudicial to veg- 
 etation, or on those which have been supplied more or less 
 
 Our imaginary troubles are more than the real ones. 
 
ness, who Joes not endeavor to contribute his quota or 
 
 MINERAL MANURES. 357 
 
 1 
 
 La 
 
 1. 
 
 abundantly with animal manure for a considerable period, with- 
 out receiving an application of lime, of of some Other substance 
 of a similar nature. In tbe latter case, it is frequently more 
 efficacious than an amelioration of stable manure Would be ; but 
 it soon impoverishes the soil so much that in a very few years 
 it becomes indispensably necessary to manure it abundantly with 
 rich animal or vegetable matters. As some portion of humus, 
 although in all probability of an insoluble nature, always re- 
 mains in arable land, even when it appears to be most exhaust- 
 ed, it of course follows that an application of lime will always 
 be productive of very marked effects, even on the poorest soils, 
 because it will call into action all the nutritive particles which 
 they contain, 
 
 A second amendment of a similar nature bestowed shortly 
 after the first, will be productive of some, although in general 
 of much less benefit ; and the effect of each subsequent amelio- 
 ration of this nature will be progressively diminished, unless the 
 soil receives an additional supply of humus. The effects of lime 
 are far more marked on some crops than they are on others. 
 Various observations have given rise to the opinion that it is 
 more efficacious when applied to spring corn, than to autumnal 
 crops ; and that it is peculiarly favorable to vegetables, and 
 also to clover and grasses. 
 
 Argillaceous soils are better ,ible to bear repeated ameliora- 
 tions of lime than those of a sandy nature ; because, in the first 
 place, the physical action of this substance tends to loosen the 
 texture of the land ; and in the second place, its chemical action 
 lessens the disposition v/hich all clays have to retain humus. 
 When marshes or bogs have been drained and are brought into 
 cultivation, they are capable of bearing repeated and abundant 
 ameliorations of lime, because they always contain a variety of 
 substances susceptible of decomposition, and on which tlie lime 
 can exercise its solvent influence. The efl^ect produced by lime 
 on land of this nature is much more beneficial and durable than 
 that of any other manure. 
 
 On the other hand, repeated ameliorations of lime will soon 
 totally exhaust and impoverish poor and sandy soils, and reduce 
 them to absolute sterility, even though eacli separate applica- 
 tion seems to be productive of some good effect. H the lime is 
 unable to find any organic matter on which to act, or does not 
 meet with clay, an earth with which it has in all pi-obability a 
 disposition to combine, and with which it forms marl, it then 
 unites with the sand, and hardens into a kind of mortar, which 
 cannot be dissolved without difficulty. When such soils have 
 been too frequently and .abundantly manured with lime, the ac- 
 
 A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. 
 
. On every side, And holds them up to a light that 
 
 383 MmERAL MANURES. 
 
 a 
 o 
 .9 
 
 3 
 
 o 
 
 u 
 
 >■ 
 ■& 
 
 a 
 
 tion of the plough brings an immense number of pieces of hard 
 mortar to the surface, which are with difficulty divided. 
 Wherever this is the case, the land must receive repeated ma- 
 nuringa before it will again be capable of bearing good crops. 
 
 In general, lime is not used until it has been calcined ; that is 
 to say, until all the carbonic acid is disengaged ; either because 
 it is then productive of the most sensible efifeots, or because it is 
 only when in this state that it falls to powder, and can be inti- 
 mately combined with the layer of vegetable earth. On this 
 account, the pulverization of calcined lime is expedited as much 
 as possible, and they hasten to mix it with the soil, or with those 
 organic matters which are to be used as manures. 
 
 The most various and contradictory opinions have been put 
 forth with respect to the advantages or disadvantages attendant 
 on the use of lime as a manure, and we can only find our way 
 out of this labyrinth of conflicting statements by means of a 
 theory based upon solid foundations ; with the assistance of such 
 a theory, all that at first sight appears problematical with regard 
 to the subject will be speedily elucidated. Lime, especially 
 when it has been recently calcined, or is, in other words, what 
 we call quicklime, absorbs the carbonic acid which is contained 
 in the atmosphere which surrounds it, and subsequently com- 
 municating it to the plants, doubtless furnishes them with some 
 nourishment ; but this nutrition is very inconsiderable ; the 
 property to which it owes the chief power in promoting vegeta- 
 tion, is the faculty of decomposing the humus, and inert vege- 
 table or animal substances with which it meets in the soil, and 
 transforming them into nutritive juices adapted to the nature of 
 the plants. Hence arise the wonderful effects which it produces 
 when it encounters a great quantity of these substances. Be- 
 sides, when properly employed, it contributes greatly toward 
 the destruction of weeds. Hence, we see a.% rich crops derived 
 from a first, and sometimes from a second application of lime, 
 as would have been produced had the land been abundantly 
 manured with stable dung. 
 
 Many persons who have not rightly comprehended the cause 
 of the effects produced by lime, prefer it to manure, and have 
 believed in the possibility of doing entirely without the latter ; 
 but the total exhaustion of the soil which such a course of pro- 
 ceeding must sooner or later produce, caused them to fly to the 
 opposite extreme, and to regard the use of lime as an "applica- 
 tion in the highest degree prejudicial and dangerous. An 
 enlightened and scientific agriculturist will soon perceive that 
 the use of lime can never supersede that of dung, but that it 
 renders this kind of manure more energetic in its action. Thus, 
 
 There are miseriea in idleness, which the idler only can conceive. 
 
is next in coarse ; it is precisely so in human life, evety 
 
 MINERAL MANURES. 339 
 
 he will profit by the increased fertility which lime bestows on 
 the first crop which succeeds the application of it, and will pro- 
 cure as much as possible of those substances which are adapted 
 for the production of dung, in order to restore the land, in the 
 shape of stable manure, that substance of which it has been de- 
 prived by the lime, forcing and increasing the vegetation of the 
 crops to which it was applied. He will likewise know when 
 lime will be beneficial, and when injurious ; and, if he acts with 
 moderation, will be able to employ litae with much advantage, 
 in cases where many persons would be afraid to use it. 
 
 The views here expressed, iji regard to the use of lime — which 
 are the views of one of the most scientific agriculturists of the 
 age — are a sufficient authority for the use of it in the formation 
 of composts, consisting mainly of muck and humus. If farmers 
 have not always the former on their premises, or within reach, 
 all may obtain the latter, In greater or less amount, annually. 
 Let the borders of their lands be divested of the decaying vege- 
 tables that have been accumulating for years — worthless for all 
 other purposes, and, in appearance, a nuisance — and with a due 
 quantity of fresh quicklime, a heap of some hundred lt)ads may 
 be collected every autumn. This half-decayed vegetable mould, 
 in alternate strata with lime, will, with a few transpositions, form 
 an article of manure ; and, applied to a farm, year after year, 
 will entirely change its productive capacity. Those who have 
 not made the experiment, are not aware how readily a hun- 
 dred, or even five hundred loads, of this substance may be 
 collected. 
 
 Cfypsum, a substance well known to the ancients, and one 
 that is very abundant in nature, is the common plaster of Paris, 
 and what chemists call sulphate of lime. It forms immense 
 strata, composing entire mountains. It is found in almost every 
 soil, either in greater or less quantities ; it is contained in the 
 waters of the ocean, and in almost all river and spring water. 
 In these, its presence is the cause of the quality termed hard- 
 ness, which may be known by the water being incapable of 
 forming a solution of soap. Although this substance is much 
 used in the arts — in making fine plastering and in statuary — the 
 chief value of it, says the Encyclopaedia Americana, is for ma- 
 nuring grass and grain lands ; which says also, it is inconceiva- 
 ble how a s'prinkling of fine-ground plaster will increase the 
 crop. On soils where it is thus efficacious, its cheapness ren- 
 ders it an object worthy the attention of agriculturists. How- 
 ever, it should be understood that, like lime, it furnishes only a 
 part of the food of plants ; the addition of Vegetable and animal 
 manures is indispensable to secure permanent fertility. 
 
 If favors place a man above bis equals, his fall places him below them. 
 
really to be what we would eeem and appear to be. By 
 
 390 MINERAL MANURES. 
 
 <S 
 
 •a 
 
 i 
 
 Gypsum is used both in a calcined and in an uncalcined state, 
 without the efFeets produced by it ^.ppearing to be very diifer- 
 ent ; unless, indeed,, a heavy rain falls immediately after this 
 substance has been spread in the former state, when the powder 
 will be agglomerated, and converted into hard, stony lumps, and 
 rendered wholly inert. It is important to see that it is reduced 
 to a fine powder. Where there are mills for the purpose, the 
 cost of doing it is but a trifle ; but where ther« are no mills, the 
 process is tedious, being reduced in large mortars. From one to 
 five bushels to the acre is the quantity usually applied, being 
 sowed broad-cast. 
 
 The action of gypsum as a manure is two-fold. In the first 
 place, it serves directly for the nourishment of some plants ; and 
 secondlyjc it fixes and retains in the soil certain soluble sub- 
 stances, Tfhich are necessary to the nutrition of the plants. It 
 has been shown, by experiment, that the favorable effect of sul- 
 phuric acid arises exclusively from the formation of gypsum ; 
 we need, therefore, say nothing more respecting it, as a direct 
 nutriment of plants, except to remark, that it is always better 
 to employ gypsum than sulphuric acid, both because it is cheaper 
 and more manageable. 
 
 With respect to the second mode of action of gypsum, this 
 depends upon its property of transforming into sulphate of am- 
 monia the carbonate of ammonia, supplied to the soil in rain- 
 water, or by the decompositiijn of animal substances. Thus, the 
 volatile substance is converted into a non-volatile salt, and re- 
 mains in the soil, to be assimilated by the plants. All may easily 
 convince themselves, by experiment, that a double decomposition 
 occurs when carbonate of ammonia is mixed with sulphate of 
 lime, and that the result is the formation of the sulphate of am- 
 monia and carbonate of lime. To show how this process tabes 
 place, in employing gypsum as a manure, the following illustra- 
 tion is given. 
 
 A small plot of garden- ground was manured with fresh horse- 
 dung, and then sowed with peas and beans. The surface was 
 covered over with a thin layer of uncalcined gypsum. The 
 grqund was protected from rain, and watered in dry weather. 
 All the peas and beans grew up with extraordinary rapidity and 
 luxuriance. Before commencing the experiment, the soil, as 
 well as the gypsum, were accurately tested, and exhibited not 
 the slightest trace of a carbor^ate. But when, after the lapse 
 of three weeks, the gypsum was removed from the surface, and 
 tested, the greater part of it was found to have become trans- 
 formed into a carbonate of lime ; the whole soil, to the depth of 
 six inches, effervesced strongly with acids. The soil was l\xm- 
 
 It is as difficult to preserve fame as it was at first to acquire it. 
 
home by land with a speed bo rapid as to prove that its 
 
 Hi 
 
 S 
 
 I 
 § 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 •a 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 ROTATION OP CROPS. 391 
 
 ated with cold water, the fluid filtered, Rnd after evaporation, a 
 considerable amount of sulphate of ammonia remained. The very- 
 slight solubility of gypsum in water, and the slowness of its de- 
 composition by carbonate of ammonia, explain the favorable 
 action of gypsum as manure, and the reason why its eflects are 
 not transitory, but remain for years. 
 
 Go, mark the matchless working of the powur 
 That nhuts within the seed the future flower ; 
 Bids these in elegance of form excel. 
 In color these, and those delight the smell; 
 Sends nature forth, the daughter of the akies, 
 To dance on ear(h, and charm all human eyes. 
 
 ROTATION OF CROPS. 
 
 Open the casement, and up with the sun 1 
 His gallant Journey has now begun, 
 Over the hills his chariot is roU'd, 
 Banner'd with glory and burnish'd with gold; 
 Over the hills he comes sublime, 
 Bridegroom of earth, and brother of time. 
 
 The practice of the rotation of crops has arisen out of pure 
 experience. The practical farmer observed, that in most cases, 
 when the Same plants were grown for two, thiee, or more years, 
 consecutively upon the same soil, it did not yield the same abun- 
 dant harvest ; whilst, when another crop was tried upon that 
 soil, the production was satisfactory. Observation and experi- 
 ence subsequently and gradually established for different parts a 
 dififerent alternation of crops, but the practical agriculturist has 
 never been able to devise a fixed rule for every kind of soil, He 
 has usually been content to rest simply upon the facts supplied 
 by his experience, and remained satisfied with believing? that 
 some plants exhaust the soil, while others do not ; but the the- 
 orist has endeavored to discover a key to this remarkable phenom- 
 enon. Speculations on the subject, to the man of science, are 
 surely interesting, though not unfrequenlly founded on a basis 
 of doubtful hypothesis. 
 
 He who makes an idol of his interest, will make a martyr of his integrity. 
 
the smallest to the -whale ; the smallest altogether 
 
 392 ROTATION OF CROPS. 
 
 It is obvious that the growth of a plant may be impeded, 
 simply because the mineral constituents principally needed, in- 
 deed essential to their proper development, have already been 
 drawn from the soil, by the previous cultivation of another plant, 
 requiring nearly or altogether the same constituents. If, for ex- 
 ample, we take a field, the soil of which contains the mineral 
 saline materials required to produce wheat, and yet only in a 
 quantity exactly sufficient to produce a single crop, it follows, 
 of course, that a second crop of wheat cannot be reared upon 
 the same field. The soil is completely exhausted for the mo- 
 ment, and will remain so forever, if it does not contain sub- 
 stances which may, by disintegration and decomposition, furnish 
 a new supply of the ingredients necessary to the growth of 
 plants, or if these essential matters are not artificially supplied. 
 
 Such a complete exhaustion of the soil as we have supposed, 
 for the sake of illustration, to be effected by a single crop, is not 
 very likely ever to happen in fact. But what really hiippens, 
 and that commonly enough, is, that although all the salts are 
 not exhausted, yet, being present in the soil, in relative propor- 
 tions very different to the amounts required by various plants, a 
 single crop of wheat would not grow upon it ; and yet this soil 
 may still contain abundant mineral constituents for the produc- 
 tion of a good crop of clover or of turnips. 
 
 It will now be obvious that it is possible to grow three, four, or 
 more crops in succession, of the same grain upon the same field, 
 whenever the soil contains a sufficient amount of the necessary 
 mineral constituents, and that if a soil possessed an illimitable 
 amount of these substances, or received a constant and suflicient 
 supply of them, it would be able to produce successive crops of 
 the same cereals continually and forever ; and moreover, that a 
 rotation of crops would be in such cases wholly unnecessary. 
 
 What we have stated with respect to the cereals applies 
 equally to all cultivated plants ; so that any plant may be grown 
 upon the same soil continually, and good crops obtained, if the 
 ingredients of the soil which the plant requires either are pres- 
 ent originally to an unhmited amount, or the farmer furnishes 
 the field with a constant and sufficient supply of these sub- 
 stances. 
 
 Viewed in this light, the subject will be clearer than perhaps 
 it ha^ hitherto been. It is to be understood and remembered, 
 that an exhausting plant must be one which, in comparison with 
 other cultivated plants, requires many inorganic constituents, 
 and consequently requires for its successful cultivation a soil rich 
 in those constituents. We need by no means wait for the perfect 
 development of a plant, and subsequent trials upon the same soil 
 
 The most provident have cnmrnouly more to sp»re than men of groat fortune. 
 
of tbe equatorial tegions, are nniformly brighter or deeper 
 
 ROTATION OF CROPS. 393 
 
 T3 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 '^ 
 
 ■where it is grown, in order to know whether it is an exhausting 
 plant or not ; we can arrive at a positive conclusion upon the 
 point immediately, by burning the plant and examining the 
 ashes. The case, for example, may occur, that some hitherto 
 unknown plant is recommended for cultivation, and tried in a soil 
 equally unknown, as its amount of constituents which that par- 
 ticular plant may require. 
 
 Practical experience, arising from the growth of this plant in 
 one field or soil, may pronounce it to belong to the class of ex- 
 hausting plants, whilst in another soil it may be found to be a 
 non-exhausting crop. Thus, the most contradictory conclusions 
 may be drawn from practical experience, and many a farmer 
 has paid the penalty of this uncertainty. It is frequently only 
 after the lapse of a long time, and after a series of successful 
 and unsuccessful trials, that it is at last found out which soil 
 will suit this particular plant, and which will not. All this may 
 be obviated, and the question determined at once, by burning 
 the plant, examining the ashes, and carefully analyzing the soil ; 
 this will enable us to determine whether a given field will repay 
 the cultivation of the plant or not. 
 
 Thus, it will be perceived that the terms exhausting or non- 
 exhausting plants, are merely relative ; a chemical analysis of 
 the ashes of plants, as well as of the soil, can alone enable us 
 to decide this point. Strictly speaking, only those plants can 
 be called exhausting which find an insufficient amount of ingie- 
 dients necessary to their growth present in the soil. So that 
 plants requiring a considerable amount of mineral constituents, 
 such as wheat, for instance, when grown in a soil rich in those 
 constituents, cannot be designated an exhausting crop relatively 
 to the soil ; whilst, on the other hand, plants requiring but an 
 inconsiderable amount of mineral ingredients, when sown in a soil 
 not adequate to supply even a smallaraount of these ingredients, 
 must relatively be considered exhausting plants. From the pre- 
 ceding remarks, it will be evident how ill-founded the assertion 
 is, that certain plants improve the soil, by enriching it. It is a 
 fact, proved beyond the power of controversy, that all plants 
 whatever withdraw certain mineral constituents from the soil, 
 and thus so far impoverish it. All such notions of improve- 
 ment, founded upon practical experience, are mere illusions, as is 
 easily proved. 
 
 Mr. Nicholson, a well-known agriculturist, says he was ac- 
 quainted with an instance of fourteen good crops of wheat hav- 
 ing been raised successively on the same ground ; with another, 
 of eighteen crops of oats ; with another, of at least ten crops of 
 barley ; and with another, of twenty crops of rye. But these. 
 
 Witliout frugaUly none can be ricb, and with it very few would be poor. 
 
hares, falcons, crows, and black-birds, all assume the same 
 
 394 ROTATION OF CROPS. 
 
 S 
 
 he remarks, as we all kno*, were peculiar cases, and doubtless 
 the soils were peculiar. Hence, although in these cases the 
 culture was successful, no inference is to be drawn that it is 
 the most profitable, or that such soils would not eventually tire 
 of their favorite crops, and then become exhausted and unfit for 
 all others. Cases of this kind do not establish general princi- 
 ples, but are an exception to them. They may furnish matter 
 for curious inquiry to the man of science, but present no data 
 for general rules to the practical agriculturist. 
 
 And it \s said, too, that some sorts of plants, for instance, 
 hemp, rye, and onions, will habitually flourish on the same soil 
 year after year, perhaps to an indefinite extent, provided it is 
 well adapted to their culture. It is supposed that rye may gen- 
 erally grow well for twenty years in this way, provided the 
 stubble is turned in immediately after the crop is harvested. 
 Moreover, it has been asserted that onions will grow better on 
 land to which they have been accustomed, than in a soil to 
 which they have not been accustomed. On the other hand, it 
 is stated that flax will not grow well on the same land oftener 
 than once in se\'en years. These cases, too, like the others, are 
 exceptions to what is ordinarily to be qxpeoted. 
 
 Among the divisions which have been made of crops com- 
 monly cultivated by fanners, the principal are those termed 
 culmi/erous and leguminous. Culmiferous plants are such as 
 have a smooth-jointed stalk, usually hollow, and at each joint 
 wrapped about with a single narrow sharp-pointed leaf. In 
 some species, however, the culm or stalk is entirely destitute of 
 leaves. ' Culmiferous plants have sometimes been called robbing 
 crops, because they exhaust the soil to a greater degree than 
 most other crops. Wheat, rye, barley, oats, Indian corn, and 
 millet, are called culmiferous plants. During the time of ripen- 
 ing their seeds, they are said to draw nearly all their nourish- 
 ment from the soil, and this has a tendency to exhaust it. In 
 this stage of their growth, with the exception of Indian corn, 
 their leaves are dry, shade the soil but little, and leave it to be 
 dried and exhausted of its fertilizing particles, in the hottest sea- 
 son of the year, by the powerful rays of the sun. 
 
 But culmiferous plants, while young, consist principally of 
 leaves, and in that state derive most of their nourishment from 
 the air. If in a green state they are cut for food for cattle, they 
 exhaust the soil very little, and unless the season is very dry, a 
 second growth soon shades the ground and prevents its being 
 robbed by the sun, which is a great depredator of soils, espe- 
 cially such as are of a loose and sandy texture. 
 
 Leguminous crops are those of the pulse kind, such as pro-' 
 
 Tacitus says, it is common to esteem most what is most unknown. 
 
between the cranium of the wild boar and that of the 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 (U 
 
 a 
 
 ROTATION OF CROPS. 395 
 
 duce their seeds in the pods, which may be gathered by tlie 
 hands, as peas, beans, vetches, lentils, and the like. Likewise, 
 clover, potatoes, ruta baga, mangelwurtzel, turnips, cabbages, 
 carrpts, parsnips, buckwheat, are by some writers called legu- 
 minous crops. The same divisions of crops are also denominated 
 green crops and grain oiops. 
 
 Although !t is not proposed to give any or all the different 
 tables which have been furnished for carrying out the principle 
 of rotation in crops, which can better be done by each individ- 
 ual for himself, still the philosophy of the hypothesis is given 
 for aiding him when applying it to his own particular soils. 
 Hence, general rules only are suggested. Among these, it lias 
 been recommended to raise alternately green crops and grain 
 crops, or what is nearly the same thing, leguminous and culfflif- 
 erous crops. Others say it would be more philosophical, and 
 better husbandry, to laise alternately tap and fibrous-rooted 
 plants. Tap roots descend into the ground in a perpendicular 
 direction hke those of the parsnip, carrot, beet, red clover, and 
 the like. Fibrous roots are composed of thready or fibrous 
 parts, like the roots of all kinds of grain. Tap roots derive 
 most of their nourishment from a considerable depth below the 
 surface, and fibrous roots are nourished chiefly by the soil at 
 and near the surface. While arguments may be urged in favor 
 of each of these recommendations, the practical farmer will be 
 able to modify their application according to circumstances. 
 
 It is indeed true, that it was customary among many of the 
 ancients, especially the Greeks and Romans, to raise the same 
 crops on the same ground for successive generation.s, a practice 
 which has descended to the best agriculturists, even to within a 
 comparatively few years. But this management required the 
 adoption of the wasteful fallow system, by which, generally, 
 every alternate year was required for the soil so far to recover 
 itself as to be enabled to renew its accustomed yield. The 
 present generation of farmers adopt the wiser and more econom- 
 ical method of rotation, in some form or other, which, without 
 any waste of time or season, insures the same result. 
 
 Id these days, 
 BevivlDg sickDesa lifts her languid head ; 
 Life flows afresh ; and young-ey'd health exalts 
 The whole creation round. Contentment walka 
 The sunny glade, and feels the inward bliss 
 Spring o'er his mind, beyor-d the power of kings 
 To purchase. 
 
 Gaming, like a quicksand, swallows up a man in a moment. 
 
milky substance called chyle, in which state the lacteal 
 
 1 
 
 USE OF THE ROLLER IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 No other kingdom shows such worth and happiness 
 Yeil'd in such low estate. 
 
 This work not being dfisigned to take the place of more elab- 
 orate treatises, no attempt is made, therefore, to render it com- 
 plete on all the topics coming under the denomination of 
 agriculture ; nor is it, especially, necessary to enter into a vari- 
 ety of details with which ninety-nine farmers out of a hundred 
 are supposed to be familiar. The common operations of tillage 
 come under this exception. The use of the plough and the 
 harrow must be better understood by them than by us. True, im- 
 provements in the construction of these and other customary 
 implements are now and then made; but these are minutely 
 described in the periodical journals of the country. To these 
 all have access ; and in ihem more complete delineations will 
 be found than could be adnaitted into a compend occupying a 
 range of rural literature so circumscribed as that here proposed. 
 
 Mainly, however, to interest the agricultural community in 
 matters not so generally alluded to by other authors, is our pur- 
 pose. We have less apprehension of neglect in the proper use 
 of tlie common implements of husbandry, than we have of the 
 competency of those who use them to comprehend the impor- 
 tant relation of science to the subject, and the social responsi- 
 bilities which form a prominent feature in rural life. Hence, 
 all those implements--such as the plough, the harrow, the 
 spade, the shovel, the hoe, the rake, the fork, the wagon, the 
 cart, and the like — with which all farmers are as familiar as 
 they are with the knife and fork, wliich they know so well how 
 to manage at the dinner-table, are here passed over, to allow us 
 space for other things. Nevertheless, where there is an agri- 
 cultural implement of great value, yet but little known and 
 appreciated by the masses of the farming community, it is our 
 legitimate design to bring it before them in a manner to pro- 
 mote its adoption. The roller is one of that class. And we 
 are free to admit, that till recently, our own conceptions of its 
 utility were quite limited. Indeed, we scarcely supposed its 
 advantages an adequate remuneration for the trouble of taking 
 care of it, to say nothing of the cost of its construction. 
 
 Those who have become well acquainted with tlxe use of the 
 
 Gratitude preserves old friendship, and procures new. 
 
therefore that ten days per annum ia the average sickness 
 
 USE OF THE ROLLER IN AGRICULTURE. 397 
 
 "3 
 
 s 
 
 roller, would be unwilling to dispense with it ; and some would 
 say, that a complete system of tillage, let the nature of the soil 
 be what it may, cannot be carried on without it. It is now 
 proposed to consider the several uses to which this instrument 
 may be applied. On some soils, no doubt it may be more ben- 
 eficial than on others ; and of course some be able to get along 
 without its aid better than those dififerently situated. 
 
 The first object usually aimed at in the employment of this 
 instrument, is to break those clods or indurated masses of earth 
 which have resisted the action of the harrow ; or, at all events, 
 to bury them in the ground, so that at the next harrowing — 
 which, when thus buried, they cannot well escape — they must, 
 of necessity, be somewhat diminished in size. It is for this 
 reason that in countries where the soil is very tenacious, and 
 tillage very carefully conducted, it is the custom, even after the 
 preparatory ploughings, first to harrow, then to pass the roller 
 over the ground, and then to harrow again. In such places, 
 land not treated in this manner would be looked upon as being 
 very badly prepared. 
 
 The second object of rolling, is to give a somewhat greater 
 degree of compactness to a soil which is too light and friable, 
 and to unite its component parts. The roller is not employed 
 for this purpose to so great an extent as it might be with ad- 
 vantage. Its action in this case, being highly beneficial, par- 
 ticularly in counteracting the bad effects produced on extremely 
 light soils by the too frequent use of the plough, and likewise 
 in preventing the too rapid evaporation of the moisture con- 
 tained in the soil. This application of the roller is particu- 
 larly resorted to on the spongy soils of valleys. In such situa- 
 tions it cannot, indeed, be well dispensed with. 
 
 The third use to which the roller is applied, is to press down 
 and make firm the ground aboijt newly-sown seeds, and to 
 cause the latter to adhere better to the soil. Sometimes, 
 when very small seed is to be sown, it is found advantageous to 
 pass the roller over the ground before the seed is sown, so as to 
 level it thoroughly, and to facilitate more equal distribution of 
 the seed than could otherwise take place. Where the ground 
 has been thus leveled, those seeds which happen to fall to- 
 gether, separate from each other ; and it is seldom that two are 
 lying in one spot. The harrow is then passed over the ground ; 
 and this operation is followed by repeated rollings, which ob- 
 literate the lines drawn by the harrow. The roller may also 
 be employed with advantage on soils which are neither partic- 
 ularly nsoist nor tenacious, after the harrow has been used to 
 cover the seed. This operation serves to press the earth more 
 
 As you are never sure of an hour, never squander a minute. 
 
go from tribe to tribe to perform manual labor, and 
 
 398 USE OF THE ROLLER IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 W 
 
 closely into contact with the seed, which then gernainates and 
 springs up with much greater rapidity. The truth of this will 
 be plainly seen by observing those parts which have escaped 
 the action of tlie roller; for there the seed does not spriiig up 
 so quickly as it does where the ground has been well 'pressed 
 by this instrument. Probably, too, the pressure may, by the 
 greater compactness which it gives to the soil, prevent any rays 
 of light from penetrating, and thus interfering with the process 
 of germination. Another advantage derived from this leveling 
 of the soil by the rolle;- is, that the harvest is greatly facilitated ; 
 for it enables the laborers to reap or mow closer to the ground, 
 a point of great importance, especially as regards the pea and 
 bean crops. 
 
 The fourth great use of the roller is to cover with mould, or 
 press against or into the ground, the roots of those plants sown 
 in the preceding autumn, which have been detached by the 
 frost. Soils rich in humus, such as those found in valleys, 
 sometimes swell up in the spring to such a degree, that the 
 roots of the plants contained in them are forced up. In such 
 cases, if a fall of rain does not speedily occur, the roller is the 
 only means of restoring them to their -proper position. Ac- 
 cordingly, says a sensible writer, in no branch of husbandry is 
 the roller more an implement of utility than in the cultivation 
 of grass. It renders the soil compact and solid ; it encourages 
 the growth of the plants, by bringing the earth close to every 
 part of the root ; it assists in filling up and leveling any ine- 
 qualities in the surface of the field, thereby preventing surface 
 water from remaining stagnant, and eradicating the grass from 
 particular spots ; and it tends to hinder the drought from pene- 
 tiating, which is an effect of the greatest importance. In fact, 
 a grass field cannot too often be rolled ; and it is not going too 
 far to assert, that the application of the roller in autumn to 
 prepare the roots for resisting the winter frosts, and in spring 
 to render them firm after the frosts, every year while the field 
 remains in grass, will amply repay the expense. 
 
 The best plan for a roller is, that it be in two parts, each 
 about three feet in length, and thirty inches in diameter ; by 
 this means, in turning, one will roll back while the other moves 
 forward. The frame in which they are suspended may be made 
 of good oak joist, four by six inches, holes being bored in the 
 side pieces to receive the gudgeons. If there are two cross- 
 bars forward, perhaps twelve inches apart, good accommoda- 
 tions are furnished for the driver to ride ; and if there are two 
 behind the roller in the same manner, stones may be laid on to 
 increase its weight. This, too, makes the frame strong, and not 
 
 A man had better be poisoned in his blood than in big principles. 
 
By a glance sha will draw a deep and just conclusion. 
 
 USE OF THE ROLLER IN AGRICULTURE. 
 
 S99 
 
 easily racked. For convenience in being sheltered, it may be 
 put together by dovetail tenons and keys, so as to be easily 
 taken ^.part. Then the rollers only require much space for pro- 
 tection against the wea-ther during the season of winter. The 
 author's is constructed in this manner. His roller consists of 
 two-inch Chestnut plank, three inches in width, the end pieces or 
 heads being three-inch oak plank, and put together like a bar- 
 rel, first nailed .on, and then secured by hoops made of old 
 wheel-tire. Complete, it cost about twenty dollars. 
 
 They can, however, be made at a less expense. Instead of 
 such framewoi-k cylinders, they can be made of smooth, round 
 oak Jogs, the ends being sawed perpendicularly so as to revolve 
 without obstruction. Iron gudgeons put into their centres 
 make good axles. They otght to be not less than twenty or 
 twenty-four inches in diameter. The cost of them might be 
 less than half the cost of the others. Rollers are aLso made of 
 solid stone, but for most purposes these would be too h«avy, 
 Others are made oi cast iron, hollow or solid, so as to give 
 suitable weight. 
 
 It is necessary that a favorable period and weather, when the 
 ground is sufficiently dry, should be chosen for rolling, as for 
 harrowing. It isaljsolutely necessary that the humidity of the 
 soil should not be so grea;t as to cause % to ^tick to the instru- 
 ment ; for when that is the case, the operation is likely to prove 
 more injurious than beneficial, not only to tenacious and clayey 
 soils, but also to those wliioh are lighter, inasmuch as it hardens 
 the ground, and forms a crust, which is impervious to air and 
 atmospheric action. On the other hand, however, it is not 
 riglit to wait until the clods of tenacious land have, by the 
 evaporation of all their moisture, become so hard as to render 
 the action of the roll on them totally inefficacious. 
 
 The needy traveler, eerene and gay, ,«i 
 
 Walks the wide heath, aud sings his toil away. 
 
 It is tlie evidence of a great mind to triumph over all misfortunes. 
 
bare niaintained the same opinion ; and many philosophers, 
 
 USE OF A SUBSOIL PLOUGH. 
 
 The upturn'd earth, ■with bosom bare, 
 The falling show'r and sun invites. 
 
 Among the many real improvements of modern agriculture is 
 the system of subsoiling. The object of it is to improve the 
 soil, and to guard against the effects of excessive moisture and 
 drought ; objects of the first importance in husbandry. If we are 
 (jorrectly informed, the subsoil plough has been invented -within 
 the last twenty years, by Mr. James Smith, of Deanston, England. 
 In that country, it is already widely known and used. Such 
 is not the fact in this country ; and there are thousands of our 
 respectable farmers who have little conception of its appearance 
 or use. Our experience with it is very limited — at least, on our 
 own premises ; but *e have seen enough of it in the hands of 
 some of our friends to remove all doubt of its utility, provided 
 any may have existed. If not prepared to endorse the most 
 vivid eulogy on its eflScacy that has been put forth by some 
 over-ardent experimentalists, we nevertheless feel safe in recom- 
 mending it to the consideration of .agriculturists ; not as super- 
 seding other instrumentalities in the labors of the husbandman, 
 but being a mOst important auxiliary in rendering those agencies 
 efficient. To our mind, the tests applied by Governor Hill, of 
 New Hampshire, are conclusive. With praiseworthy zeal, he 
 has been for several years devoting his well-known energies to 
 the development of agricultural wealth, thus rendering the most 
 valuable services to the community. To benefit his fellow-citi- 
 zens a$|.much as possible, he has for ten years published the 
 Monthly Family Visitor, giving detailed accounts of his experi- 
 ments, offering it at a price so much below the cost, that he is 
 annually, as stated to us by the publisher, a loser to the amount 
 of the income of a decent little farm. If the fact were gener- 
 ally understood, we should suppose that he, in a more extended 
 patronage, would be relieved by the class of persSns for whose 
 benefit it is designed. >. 
 
 WitliDut an engraving, it is difficult to give in Words a good 
 description of the subsoil plough. Of the several patterns be- 
 fore the public, the most approved is somewhat like a, common 
 plough without the mould-board. It ought to be constructed 
 of the best materials, well put together, and as easy for draught 
 
 If you desire to be -wkef, think not yourself wise enough. 
 
liere and there, is shocking. It gives one an image of a 
 
 USE OF A SUBSOIL PLOUGH. 40I 
 
 as compatible with strength sufficient to cut large roots and 
 move lieavy stones. It is intended to break up and pulverize 
 the subsoil, as it is called, or that which lies under the surface 
 soil. It should be drawn by four or six animals, according to 
 the nature of the work ; following in the furrow of a common 
 plough, and penetrating the substratum to the depth of ten, 
 twelve, or even twenty inches. As there is no mould-board, 
 the new soil is not brought to the surface, but is covered by the 
 next furrow thrown over. For this labor oxen are preferred to 
 horses, being so much slower and steadier in their pace. A 
 man ought to follow, having a spade and light crow-bar, with 
 which he may remove all stones of a moderate size — provided 
 it be stony land — and throw them upon the ploughed land, 
 that they may be afterward carried away by a cart. Siiould it 
 be desirable to dig up or blast the large rocks touched by the 
 share, their position may be indicated by a stake or a wooden 
 pin, taken from a bag carried at the man's waist. 
 
 Our next business is to inquire more particularly what are the 
 advantages of subsoiling. For the most part, it has been 
 attended with the most gratifying, and ' sometimes astonish- 
 ing results. It would be unreasonable to expect it to prove 
 successful in every experiment, in all localities, and under all 
 circumstances. The hard, sterile earth is thoroughly pulverized, 
 thereby being exposed to the meliorating influences of the at- 
 mosphere, and furnishing increased supplies of food and moist- 
 ure in dry seasons, for the roots of plants. These are the pri- 
 mary advantages of a deeply-wrought loam, and they are cer- 
 tainly such as commend themselves to the attention of every 
 reflecting farmer. 
 
 Few persons have any idea of the depth to which roots will 
 descend in favorable situations. The fibrils of a wheat kernel 
 have been found more than thirty inches below the surface — 
 those of red clover, Indian corn, and the Swedish turnip five 
 feet — and of sanfoin and lucern, from twenty to thirty feet! 
 And long after they have become invisible to the naked eye, 
 they can be detected by the microscope, pushing themselves 
 away from the light. No one needs be told the object of these 
 subterranean journeys. It is the constant efli'ort of the good 
 gardener to facilitate this wonderful operation of nature ; he 
 digs and trenches the soil to the depth of two or three feet, and 
 he finds himself repaid by a most luxuriant vegetation. Surely 
 this is as important for the farmer as for the gardener. . _ By the 
 frequent use of the common plough under " the skimming sys- 
 tem," as it has been aptly called, the pressure of the sole, and 
 the treading of the team and driver, form at the bottom of the 
 
 There is no man so contemptible but in distress requires pity. 
 
 B 
 
by want and hunger, man kills everythinlTiir sport, 
 
 402 USE OF A SUBSOIL PLOUGH. 
 
 furrow a hard crust, which is with diflSculty penetrated by the 
 delicate spongioles at the ends of the roots. Sometiilnes this 
 substratum is naturally so hard that it receives the expressive 
 name of " an iron pan." Let this liard bed be broken up by 
 the plough, so that the plants can have an extended foraging- 
 ground, and an increased crop will generally be the result. 
 
 We have said that another benefit of subsoiling is that of ad- 
 mitting the sterile substratum to the meliorating influences of 
 the atmosphere. This is one of the most important principles 
 of husbandry. Experiment has shown that air contains a very 
 large per centage of the constituents of vegetable growth. By 
 subsoiling, tliese, or a large portion of them, will be absorbed 
 by the loose earth, and carefully treasured up for the growing 
 plant. And moreover, it is found that the free circulation of 
 the air renders available, by certain chemical changes which 
 we have not time to explain, many fertilizing gases that 
 might otherwise lie dormant for centuries. Admitting that this 
 circulation is in proportion to the lightness of the soil, it then 
 follows that the benefit derived by the crop from this cause will 
 be proportionably increased. 
 
 A thorough drainage is sometimes secured by subsoiling. We 
 shall not state in this connection the respective advantages of 
 draining wet and marshy land ; we have only to inquire how far 
 it may be effected by the use of t)ie subsoil plough. Where 
 the share can break through a thin stratum of retentive clay, 
 underlaid by one of a more porous character, so that the surface 
 water may escape, the most beneficial results will probably fol- 
 low. A barren and unpromising spot has thereby frequently 
 become fertile and easy of cultivation. Sometimes, however, 
 subsoiling has been of decided injury, in rousing the thirsty sand 
 or gravel, to absorb all the moisture and soluble manures of the 
 surface soil. Land of this description ought to be kept in wood 
 or perliianent pasture, as under the most careful management it 
 is ever ungrateful. And where the substratum of clay reaches 
 far belofw the share, under-draining ought to be first employed. 
 After this is done, the subsoil plough may be used with 
 profit. 
 
 Subsoiling secures a supply of heat and moisture for the 
 plant. It is a well-known fact, that in time of drought the veg- 
 etation of a garden will be much more vigorous than that in the 
 adjaceQt field. This is mainly owing to the greater looseness of 
 the soil. A single instance in illustration will suffice. Mr. C. 
 N. Eement, the distinguished agriculturist, some years since 
 subsoiled several strips of a sandy knoll, which he planted with 
 Indian corn. In the dry summer that followed, the corn of 
 
 Rather suffer wrong than enter into a lawsuit with a neighbor. 
 
TariatioDS thatliave been found among the human epeciea. 
 
 
 INDIAN CORN, OR MAIZE. 403 
 
 ' «2 
 
 
 those strips was green and flourishing, while that on the other 
 portions of the lot was almost burned up with the heat ; and at 
 harvest, the difference in the yield was not less remarkable. 
 
 These ai-e the immedi«,te benefits that the farmer will derive 
 froBtt subsoiling, which has in many instances caused a gain in 
 the crop of thirty or forty, to even more than fifty per cent. 
 One thing more remains to be noticed in the present chapter ; 
 we mean the constant improvement of the subsoil. The minute 
 particles of tlie surface and subsoils are gradually mixed to- 
 gether ; the natural resources of the ground are wakened into 
 life by the influence of the atmosphere; the thread-like web of 
 roots with which it is filled decay when the plant dies or is re- 
 moved ; and in time, the sterile, unprofitable substratum becomes 
 a valuable loam of great depth and fertility. 
 
 Nature works not without a law. 
 
 Oft truly beyond man's research; 
 
 And.tliose wlio win her treasures ridii * 
 
 Must toil, nor heed their own conceits. 
 
 INDIAN CORN, OR MAIZE. 
 
 The fruitful maize, in verdant vistas rear'd. 
 Its spire miijestic, to tlie playful breeze 
 Spreading its loosely-waving panicles, while low 
 The purple anthers bending o'er to kiss 
 The silken, tassel'd styles, delight the eye 
 Of watchful Ceres. 
 
 It has not been determined of what country this valuable 
 "■rain is a native. It is usually attributed to America, where ii 
 was cultivated by the aboiigines at the time of tlie discovery ; 
 but no botanist has hitherto found it growing wild in any part 
 of this continent ; and most certdinly it does not so exist in any 
 portion of the territory of the United Stiites. It is also certain 
 that its culture did iiot attract notice in Europe, Asia, or the 
 north of Africa, till after the voyage of Columbus. It was un- 
 known to the ancient Greek and Roman writers, and it is not 
 mentioned by the earlier travelers who visited Cliina, India, 
 
 4 
 a" 
 
 He isflot poor that hath not much, but he who would have more. 
 
toward the south ; the kidney bean does the same course ; While 
 
 404 INDIAN CORN, OR MAIZE. 
 
 a 
 
 2 
 
 and other parts of Asia and Africa, and who were very minute 
 in describing the productions of the countries which they vis- 
 ited. Others, again, have attributed its origin to the western 
 coast of Africa. 
 
 This plant belongs to the Cereal family, being neither more 
 nor less than a gigantic grass. It is annual and herbaceous. 
 The root is fibrous ; the stems rise to the height of frorrj four 
 to ten feet, and, like others of the family, are furnished with 
 knots at intervals. A great number of Varieties are cultivated, 
 differing in the size, hardness, number, and color of the grains, 
 the form of the ears, and, what is very important, in the time 
 required to bring them to maturity. The grains, in some varie- 
 ties, are violet or black ; in others, purple, white, or variegated ; 
 and sometimes grains of different colors are found on the same 
 ear ; but tlie usual color is golden yellow. 
 
 Some varieties require five months from the time of sprout- 
 ing for the perfect maturity of the grains, while the peiiod of 
 six weeks is sufficient for others. Owing to this circumstance, 
 this plant can be cultivated in a far wider range of climate than 
 any other species of grain, not only throughout the tropical 
 regions of the globe, but in the most northern parts of the 
 United States ; in fine, wherever the heat of summer is intense, 
 though it may be of short duration. It is usually ranked the 
 third grain in point of utility, next after rice and wheat ; but 
 the former of these can only be cultivated in the warmer, and 
 the latter only in the temperate parts of the earth. 
 
 Indian corn is now raised very extensively, not only in Amer- 
 ica, but throughout a great part of Asia and Africa, and also 
 in several countries of the South of Europe, as in Spain and 
 Italy. In many of tlie provinces of PVance, it forms almost 
 exclusively the sustenance of the inhabitants. In some parts 
 of America, two crops are obtained in a season; but, as it is 
 found to exhaust the soil very soon, it is usually planted upon 
 the same piece of ground only after an interval of five or 
 six years. It succeeds best in soils which are light, dry, atid 
 rich. 
 
 The usual mode of planting is in little hillocks raised at in- 
 tervals throughout the field, to each of which is allotted four or 
 five grains. These last, after being dipped in water, will sprout 
 in five or six days. Planting must be deferred till after the sea- 
 son of frost, as that will cut down the leaves, if not destroy the 
 germ. In many countries, after flowering, the tops are cut off 
 just above the ears, and considered excellent fodder for cattle. 
 In other places, the entire stalk is allowed to remain till the grain 
 is nearly ripe ; when the whole is cut near the ground, and put 
 
 Contenttnent is the truest riches, and covetousness the greatest poverty. 
 
in whatever direction they descend, they all instantly turn 
 
 INDIAN CORN, OR MAIZE. 405 
 
 
 into stacks^ each one designed to contain about a bushel of the 
 ears. The juices in tlie lower parts of the stalk pass into the 
 grain till it is fully ripened. The succeeding operation is to 
 free the ears from the husks, which, with the stalks, are pre- 
 served for the feed of cattle in the succeeding season ; and the 
 grain upon the cobs is deposited in the granary. It is a con- 
 troverted point among agriculturists, whether it is best to cut 
 off the tops of Ihe stalks in the manner first described, or to 
 adopt the latter mode. The former gives the best feed for 
 cattle ; but there is much additional labor. Those who prac- 
 tice it say, also, that there is more grain, and of a better qual- 
 ity. The advocates of the latter process affirm that the con- 
 trary is true, so far as the quantity of grain is at issue. We 
 have, in different years, pursued both courses, but without 
 making nice comparisons that would enable us to add our au- 
 thority either way. 
 
 The green stems and leaves abound in nutritious matter for 
 cattle, and in some countries it is cultivated solely for this pur- 
 pose, especially after the early crops of other vegetables. 
 When designed for this purpose, the seed should be sown broad- 
 cast, or very thickly in drills. The soil should be made rich ; 
 and the quantity of fodder frequently obtained is almost incred- 
 ibly large. It may be cut in small parcels, and dealt out daily 
 as needed. If given to cows, it will make their milk abundant. 
 Perhaps it is the best and most economical feed for that pur- 
 pose. Or, it may be cured for winter use. In the latter case 
 it should be thoroughly dried, and then well protected against 
 moisture. 
 
 The grain, when well dried, will keep for several years, and 
 preserve its power of germiaatioti. It is cooked in various 
 ways, and forms a wholesome and substantial aliment. Domes- 
 tic animals of every kind are also extremely fond of it. Ac- 
 cording to Count Rumford, it is, next to wheat, the most nutri- 
 tious grain. It is considered as too stimulating for the common 
 food of cattle, and is found to be more stimulating than any 
 other kind of biead used by us. Mixed with rye meal, it makes 
 a bread extensively used in New England, and by those accus- 
 tomed to it, much admired. In tlie Receipts on Domestic Econ- 
 omy will be found directions for cooking it in the most approved 
 methods. Here it is necessary simply to state facts incidental 
 to its use, or giving its historical relations. Mixed with water 
 only, it makes what is called hasty-pudding, a palatable article 
 of food, and deemed worthy of being made the subject of a 
 well-known poem by Joel Barlow. Ground coarse and boiled, 
 it forms hominy, which is so' great a favorite at the South. In 
 
 No man can lay himeelf under obligation to do what is wrong. 
 
GuddeUty disappeared, perished on tbe top of HelVellyn ; 
 
 406 INDIAN CORN, OR MAIZE. 
 
 « 
 
 ^ 
 
 pS 
 
 1 
 
 the Torm of hulled corn, or samp, the whole grains furnish a dish 
 not without friends. 
 
 The value of the com crop is so great as to justify all judi- 
 cious efforts to augment its culture. The crop of 1848 is esti- 
 mated at 4'71, 000,000 bushels; that is, over one hundred and 
 fifty bushels for each family. This, at the low price of sixty- 
 five cents to the bushel, amounts to more than three hundred 
 millions of dollars ; from a single branch of agricultural invest- 
 ment and industry in a single year. However, its culture is so 
 well understood, that it is superfluous to enter into a discussion. 
 If a farmer desires to raise a large crop instead of a small one, 
 let hicti learn the secret of doing it from neighbors who are al- 
 ready setting him the example. Give the land good tillage and 
 ample supplies of manure, and the object will be reached. 
 
 We append a list of several large crops of corn : — 
 
 Mr. Wadsworth, of Durham, Conn., in the year 1844, raised 
 a crop on one quarter of an acre of ground at the rate of 151 
 bushels and 18 quarts of shelled corn per acre. 
 
 Mr. Pasohall Morris, near Westchester, Pa., in 1845, pro- 
 duced ten acres which averaged 101 bushels and 3 pecks per 
 acre. Mr. George W. Williams, of Bourbon Co., Ky., in 1840, 
 raised 159f bushels per acre. Mr. Young, of Kentucky, in 1840, 
 raised over 190 bushels per acre. 
 
 Mr. J. P. Jones, of Sullivan Co., N. Y., in 1849, over 195 
 bushels of ears per acre, at a net profit of $40 12. Mr. Wil- 
 liam H. Cawford, of the same county, and in the same year, 
 raised lOOJ bushels of shelled corn per acre. 
 
 Mr. Rufus Beckwith, of Henrietta, N. Y., in 1844, raised 126 
 bushels of shelled corn per acre. Mr. Jabez Burroughs, of 
 Chatauque Co., N. Y., in 1846, obtained a premium for a crop 
 of 114 bushels and S2 pounds of shelled corn per acre. 
 
 Mr. 8t«vens, of Hoboken, near New York city, raised over 
 118 bushels per acre. Mr. B. Butler, of Chenango Co., N. Y., 
 in 1831, raised 140 bushels from one acre. 
 
 Mr. Leonard Hill, in 1823, received the premium from the 
 Plymouth (Mass.) Agricultural Society, for a crop of 139 bushels 
 of shelled com per acre. 
 
 The Messrs. Pratt, of Eaton, N. Y., obtained, in 1822, from 
 3 acres, a crop of 517^ bushels, or 112 bushels per acre ; and 
 in 1823, from 4 acres, 680 bushels, or IVO bushels per acre. 
 
 The Ohio Cultivator states that John Loughry, of Adams Co., 
 raised 1500 bushels of shelled corn on eleven acres, or 136; 
 bus4ie!ls pisr acre for the whole field. 
 
 A number of years ag6; Messrs. Amasa Turner and Seth Jef- 
 ferson, of Mantua, Ohio, published a certificate that they had : 
 
 Virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant by being crushed. 
 
the niglit ; and at the Cape of Good Hope, ^'here the 
 
 an 
 
 a 
 
 s 
 ■s 
 s 
 
 JS 
 
 a 
 o 
 o. 
 
 J2 
 
 a 
 
 ■a 
 
 V 
 
 B 
 
 ■c 
 
 PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF WHEAT. 4O7 
 
 measured the shelled coin raised on one acre belonging to Mr. 
 SetU Harmon, and found it to be 108 bushels and 21 quarts. 
 
 In 183.5, Mr. Asahei Renwick, Pickaway Co., Ohio, raised 
 5600 bushels on forty acres ; that is, 140 bushels to the acre ; 
 and in ] 837, a planter in Clarke County, Kentucky, on 40 acres, 
 raised 3800 bushels. 
 
 In 1840, W. Ingalls, Oswego County, N. Y., raised 154 
 bushels on an acre ; in 1841, B. Bradley, Bloorofield, N. Y., 
 raised 232 bushels on two acres ; in 1842, Samuel Phelps, Cay- 
 uga, N. Y., raised 122 bushels on an acre; in the same year, 
 W. Wilcox, Saratoga, of the same State, raised 132 bushels cm 
 an acre; and in 1840, J. Myers, Canton, Ohio, raised 1352 
 bushels on seven acres. 
 
 In 1823, Joseph Evans, Washington County, Pa., raised .580 
 bushels on five acres ; in 1823, B. Battl»tt, Eaton, N. Y., raised 
 174 bushels on an acre ; in 1825, Mr. Wilmarth, Taunton^ Mass., 
 raised 142 bushels on an acre; in 1839, R. Lamprey, Moullon- 
 borough, N. H., raised 131 bushels on an acre ; and in the same 
 year, P, P. Pillsbury, Tuftonborough, N. H., raised 130 bush- 
 els on an acre. 
 
 The corn-house fill d, the harvest home, 
 The ittvited neighbors to the husfeing come; 
 A frolic scene, where work, and mirth, and play, 
 Unite their charms, to chase the hours away. 
 
 PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF WHEAT. 
 
 Scenes must be beautiful, which, daily view'd. 
 Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
 Long knowledge and tlie scrutiny of years. 
 
 Among the different kinds of grain which form the prih^pal 
 nutriment of the civilized world, and to the culture of which 
 civilization is even attributed, by ancient and aiodei'n writers, 
 the first rank is universally conceded to wheat. It is now cul- 
 tivated in almost all temperate climates, throughout the greater 
 part of Europe, in all the provinces of China, in Natolia, Sytia, 
 Persia, and other temperate parts of Asia, in the north of Afii- 
 ca, and at the Cape of Good Hope, in the United States, and 
 
 ■^ 
 
 p 
 
 $ 
 
 It is a great lesson of morality to love our neighbor as ourselves. 
 
and there are few birds that do not turn and shift their 
 
 408 PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF WHEAT. 
 
 
 !>0 
 
 even in the extreme southern parts of South America. The 
 plant belongs to the family of the grasses. 
 
 The culture of wheat, from time immemorial, and in different 
 soils and climates, has produced numerous varieties, which in 
 some instances have even been mistaken for distinct species. 
 Linnseus comprehended all the different varieties of wheat 
 known in his day under six species ; but modern botanists enu- 
 merate about thirty species, and some hundreds of subvarieties 
 brought into existence by continued cultivation. It has been 
 well observed, that for mere practical purposes, it is sufficient to 
 have two general classes, namely, white and red, and the varie- 
 ties distinguished by their spikelets, as the smooth or bearded, 
 the woody-ehaffed and the hairy-chaffed. There are some va- 
 rieties characterized also as spring or winter wheats, though 
 these are frequently apt to lose their distinguishing characters, 
 and to accommodate their habits to the season in which they 
 are sown. 
 
 And some botanists have divided wheats into different species, 
 from some marked peculiarity in their formation. There are, it 
 is certain, three varieties in their hypothesis so different in ap- 
 pearance that they claim peculiar attention. These are the hard 
 or flint wheats, the soft wheats, and the Polish wheats. The 
 hard wheats are the produce of warm climates, such as Italy, 
 Sicily, and Barbary. The soft wheats grow in the northern 
 parts of Europe. The Polish wheats grow in the country from 
 which they derive their name, and are also hard wheats. It is 
 from their external form that they are distinguished from other 
 kinds. The hard wheats have a compact seed nearly transpa- 
 rent, which, when bitten through, breaks short, and shows a very 
 white flour within. The soft wheats have an opaque coat or 
 skin, and which, when first reaped, gives way readily to the 
 pressure of the finger and thumb. These wheats require to be 
 well dried and hardened before they can conveniently be ground 
 into flour. Polish wheat has a chaff much longer than the seed, 
 which is large, oblong, hard, and cylindrical in shape. It is a 
 delicate spring wheat, and not very productive ; hence, it has 
 only been occasionally cultivated by way of experiment. 
 
 Wheat succeeds best when treated as a biennial, though it 
 does not remain above one year in the ground. Provided the 
 soil is well prepared and dry, and the seed is sown in time, 
 the plants do not suffer from the greatest cold, especially if the 
 ground is covered with snow. It has been recommended that 
 it be sown more deeply tban it usually is, partly for its protec- 
 tion Against its winter exposure. Feath,erstonhaugh, in his 
 essay on the Principles and Practice of Rural Economy, has 
 
 There is nothing men are more deficient in than knotring their own oharactera. 
 
motlier immediately quitted the pasture in whicli she was 
 
 PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF WHEAT. 409 
 
 given some curious facts favorable to this recommendaLion. He 
 says a grain of wheat, when put into the ground at the depth 
 of three inclies, undergoes the following transformations': As 
 soon as the farinaceous matter which envelopes the frame of the 
 young plant is softened into n milky state, a germ is pushed out, 
 and at the bottom of that germ small roots soon follow. The 
 roots are gathering strength, whilst the germ, by the aid of the 
 milky fluid, is shooting upward ; and when the milk is exhausted, 
 the roots are in activity, and are collecting nourishment for the 
 plant from the soil itself. This is analogous to the weaning of 
 young animals, which are not abandoned by the mother till they 
 can provide for themselves. 
 
 But, says he, the care of nature does not end here ; when the 
 germ has fairly got above the surface, and become a plant, a set 
 of upper roots are thrown out, close to the surface of the 
 ground, which search all the superficial parts of the soil with 
 the same activity as the under roots search the lower parts ; 
 and that part of the germ which separates the two sets of roots 
 is now become the channel, through which the lower roots sup- 
 ply the plant with the nourishment they have collected. What 
 an admirable contrivance to secure the prospeiity of the plant! 
 Two distinct sets of roots serve, in the first place, to fix the 
 plant firmly in the ground, and to collect nourishment from 
 every quarter. The upper roots are appositely situated to 
 receive all the nourishment that comes naturally from the at- 
 mosphere, or artificially as manure, to the surface ; and serve 
 the further purpose of being the base of pew stems, which are 
 tillered up, and so greatly increase the productiveness of the 
 plant. A bushel of wheat, weighing sixty-two pounds, con- 
 tains five hundred and fifty thousand kernels. 
 
 Animal substances are the best manure for wheat, as contain- 
 ing much gluten ; and next in importance is lime, as tending to 
 the same effect by chemical combinations. Wheat yields a 
 greater proportion of flour than any pther' grain, and is also 
 more nutritive. Gluten is so essential an ingiedient in bread, 
 that fermentation cannot go on without it ; hence its inferiority 
 in wet seasons, and when the wheat is blighted or ill ripened ; 
 and hence the advantage of having a stock of old grain. Wheat 
 starch is made by steeping it, and afterward beating it in 
 hempen bags. The mucilage being thus mixed with the water, 
 produces the acetous fermentation, and the weak acid thus 
 formed renders the mucilage white. After settling, the precip- 
 itate is repeatedly washed, and then put into square cakes for 
 drying. 
 
 The straw of wheat, from dry, chalky lands, is manufactured 
 
 A contented mind is of more worth than all the treasures of bolh the Indies. 
 
renewing; so that the same man of to-day has not an 
 
 410 PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF WHEAT. 
 
 into hats. Leghorn hats are made from a bearded variety of 
 wheat, not unliiie rye, raised on poor, sandy soils, on the' banks 
 of the Arno, between Legliorn and Florence, expressly for this 
 manufacture. It does not grow above eigliteen inches in height, 
 is pulled green, and bleached like flax, on the gravely bed of 
 the river. The straws are not split, which render the plait 
 tougher and more durable. 
 
 It has been estimated that the quantity of wheat raised in the 
 United Stiites in 1848, is over one hundred millions of bushels. 
 Allowing five bushels to the barrel, the wheat of that year in 
 this country yields twenty millions of barrels of flour ; that is, 
 a barrel, or thereabouts, for each individual — infants and chil- 
 dren, as well as adults ; and of course two-thirds of a pound 
 nearly each day for each of these individuals. Or it would 
 allow about seven barrels to each family. However, when it is 
 considered how much of inferior bread stufl^s is used by a large 
 portion of the people, it is easy to make an estimate, what pro- 
 portion of our wheat flour might be exported to enrich the na- 
 tion. And if one hundred millions of bushels of wheat are now 
 raised in a year, how easy would il be to raise five hundred 
 millions ! 
 
 These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good, 
 
 Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair : thyself how wondrons then t 
 
 Unspeakable ) who sitt'sl above the heavens, 
 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 
 In these thy lowest works ; ynt these declare 
 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
 
 Time, patience, and industry, are the three great masters olT the world. 
 
ally changing by a nicely-balanced alternation of d«cay 
 
 % 
 
 t 
 & 
 .6 
 
 P4 
 
 
 RYF.-ITS CULTURE AND USE. 
 
 Trntb, tW sometimes clad 
 In painful lustre, yet is always welcome. 
 Dear as the light that shows the lurking rock: 
 Tis the fair star, that ne'er unto the main 
 Descending, leads us safe through stormy life. 
 
 Ryb, with respect to its mode oif cultivation, resembles wheat; 
 but it can be grown on inferior soils, and with less culture and 
 manure. It differs from wheat in this, that while wheat affects 
 a stiff, tenacious soil, rye succeeds best on a light and sandy 
 soil. It is extensively cultivated in Europe, forming the mam 
 part of the bread corn of the inhabitants of a great part of Ger- 
 many Poland, Russia, Switzerland, and other countries. Even 
 in more than half of France, rye bread, either pure or mixed 
 with wheat, in equal proportions, is the only kind to be pro- 
 cured Rye bread is not so nutritious as wheat, but has more 
 flavor! The farina, or meal, differs from that of the latter, m 
 containing a mu6h smaller proportion of gluten. 
 
 Rye may be sown in autumn, or it may be sown m spring ; 
 and this circumstance affects, as in the case of the other cerelia, 
 the habits of ripening of the plant. When sown m autumn, it 
 is termed winter rye ; and when sown in spring, spring rye. 
 The winter rye is sown in autumn at the same time as wheat; 
 the spring rye with the oats, or as early in spring as the weather 
 will allow Rye shoots in the ear sooner than wheat, and ripens 
 earlier It stands drought better than wheat, but is more 
 liable to suffer injury from wetness. It is a hardier plant than 
 wheat, and less subject to the attacks of insects and diseases. ^ 
 Rye is in various countries sown mixed with wheat. Ihe 
 mixtme is termed meslin in England ; and the two kinds, when 
 sown together, ripen at the same time. The bread of r;ye is 
 dark sweet, and nutritious, though in the latter property it is 
 inferior to that made from wheat. Mixed in certain propor- 
 tions with wheat, it makes a palatable and wholesome article of 
 
 ^^ Next to wheat, rye may be said to contain the largest amount 
 of nutritive matter of any of the cultivated cereals. It contains 
 an aromatic substance, w hich seems to adhere more particularly 
 
 Civility la a kind of charm that attracU the love of all meO. 
 
 s- 
 
 GQ 
 
 o 
 
alone. Tlie lanib sucks, the chicken pecks, and the nestling 
 
 412 RYE ITS CULTURE AND USE. 
 
 to the liusk, since that agreeable taste and smell, peculiar to rye 
 bread, are not perceptible in that which is made of rye flour 
 that has been passed through a Very fine bolting-cloth. The 
 smell, as well as the blackish hue, may be restored by means of a 
 decoction of rye-bran, in warm water, used in making the dough. 
 This substance appears to facilitate digestion, and has a pecu- 
 liarly strengthening, refreshing, and beneficial efl^ect upon the 
 animal frame. 
 
 All soils containing an excessive proportion of sand, and which 
 are not too much exposed to humidity, will be found to bear 
 better crops of rye than any other kind of grain. It exhausts 
 land mucii less than wheat. And as it yields a larger quantity 
 of stra;w than any other, it will, if the straw is reduced to ma- 
 nure, restore a larger portion of the nutriment which it has 
 absorbed than any other. 
 
 Rye rises to a greater height than wheat, and produces a thin- 
 ner stem, but a greater weight of straw. The straw is hard, 
 wiry, and little valued for fodder, unless cut fine, and mixed 
 with ground grain. But it is used for manufacturing straw hats, 
 and for collars for horses. It is also used in the making of 
 brick, and is an excellent matei'ial for thatching cottages, barns, 
 and sheds. When it is designed for hats, it .should be sown very 
 thick, cut green, and bleached by exposure to the air. 
 
 Rainy, damp, or very windy weather, occurring about the 
 floweiing season, has a pernicious influence on rye. Occasional 
 showers do it no harm, even when they are tolerably frequent, 
 provided that there are a few hours of warm, sunny weather, 
 between each ; for during rain the rye closes up its valves, and 
 when the sun afterward comes out, the anthers spring up so 
 vigorously that the pollen from . the stamens covers the field 
 like a thick cloud. But, during continuous rains, the anthers 
 undergo an alteration in the valves, and rot ; or, at any rate, 
 impregnation does not take place; or if it does, the embryo of 
 the grain is putrefied and lost. It is thus that the disease termed 
 tlie spur or ergot of rye is engendered, and that curious, 
 blackish, violet-colored excrescence formed, which is so well 
 known, and of itself appears to be of no importance, but when 
 swallowed in large quantities, and especially while fresh, has 
 occasioned dangerous and mortal diseases iu both men and 
 animals. 
 
 Rye has been much used in the north of Europe, and in this 
 country, for the distillation of intoxicating drinks. A more 
 wicked perversion of an article designed for animal sustenaiice, 
 to the destruction of human life, cannot be adduced. It would 
 be well for those engaged in collecting temperance statistics, 
 
 It is for yourg men to gather knowledge, anj for all men to use it. 
 
the ocean : the magnet operates upon iron, irhatever be 
 
 a 
 u 
 
 <i 
 
 J 
 
 r5» 
 
 
 THE OLD FAMILIAR FARM-HOUSE. 413 
 
 to notice this subject, in their labors. The result would be a 
 startling one. 
 
 The starlight dews 
 All silently their tears of love instill, 
 Weeping theitieelres away, till they infuse 
 Seep into nature's breast, the spirit of her haea. 
 
 THE OLD FAMILIAR FARM-HOUSE, 
 
 By MRS. LOOMIS. 
 
 The old familiar farm-house is falling to decay, 
 
 And those who were its inmates have long since passed away ; 
 
 Yet round it fondly lingers full many a vision bright 
 
 Of childhood's sunny moments, so fraught with pure delight. 
 
 The old familiar farm-house ! Its lofty, ancient trees. 
 Which catch the earliest sunlight, and wave in every breeze, 
 Like sentinels are standing, their lonely watch to keep. 
 While he whose fingers trained them has sunk in death's long 
 sleep> 
 
 The old familiar farm-house ! Its garden once was fair. 
 With many a blooming floweret ; but weeds are rankling there, 
 And tangled vines, neglected, o'er broken arbors cling. 
 And from their matted foliage the household robins sing. 
 
 The old familiar farm-house ! Alas ! 'tis desolate ! 
 No words of cheering welcome the wearied traveler greet. 
 And from its ample hearth-stone there comes no voice of glee, 1^ 
 No gush of childish laughter, no song of melody. 
 
 The old familiar farm-house ! It wakens memory's spell, 
 And tells of by-gone pleasures, remembered, oh, how well ! 
 And though 'tis now descried, and will soon in ruins lie, 
 Sweet visions round it cluster that cannot fade and die. 
 
 •i 
 
 Ei- 
 
 5' 
 
 Si 
 
 If length of days be thy portion, make it not thy expectation. 
 
determinate series both of inclinationa and of antipathies, strongly 
 
 S" 
 
 .s 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BARLEY. 
 
 Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, 
 
 In mingled clouds to Him, uhose sun eicalts, 
 
 Whose breath perfumes you, and ^yhose pencil paints. 
 
 Barley, like most other grains, has been known from time 
 immemorial. It has a thick spilie ; the calix, husk, and flower 
 are like tliose of wheat or rye, but the awns are rough ; the seed 
 is swelling in the middle, and for the- most part ends in a short 
 point, to which the husks are closely united. Bailey is an an- 
 nual plant ; but, like wheat, it may be sown in autumn, and 
 then it acquires the habit of later ripening, and is termed winter 
 barley. 
 
 Barley naturally ripens early, and therefore may be sown in 
 the month of May ; but the usual period is Apiil. Ordinarily, 
 the sooner in spring, the better ; for the earlier it can be sown, 
 the produce in the grain is more certain, though the bulk of the 
 straw will be less. When the period of harvest arrives, barley 
 must be- allowed to be sufiSciently ripe, but not to become what 
 is termed dead ripe. It may be cut either with the scythe or 
 the sickle. 
 
 Barley is evidently a native of warm climates ; for in a moist 
 atmosphere it is observed to degenerate, whether it Yrlay be neg- 
 lected or grown on poor soil. We have the best authority for 
 its having been cultivated in Syria more than three thousand 
 years ago. Therefore, it is probable that part of the world may 
 be fixed on as its native soil. We find that the Romans obtained 
 barley from Egypt, and other paits of Africa, and Spain. The 
 jiiseases of barley are not so numerous or fatal as those of 
 wheat. 
 
 Bailey is extensivel)' cultivated in most European countries, 
 and in the temperate districts of Asia and Africa. The pioduct 
 of the Uiiitfed States, in 1847, was towai'd fcix millions of bushels. 
 Between the tropics, at an elevation of three or four thousand 
 feet, it may be raised, but the crops are small. In Spain and 
 Sicily, it produces two crops in tiie year. In Great Biituin, it 
 is extensively cultivated, and lias been for a long period. The 
 principal use of barley in England and America is for making 
 beer ; in some parts of the European continent, horses are fed 
 with it, and in oilier parts poor people make bread of it. In 
 
 If persons -with to live easy iiiid prosper, let them mind (heir own business. 
 
means than that uf the circulation of the blood, destroys 
 
 
 .§ 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BARLEY. 415 
 
 Scotland, bailey is the common ingredient for broths. Pearl 
 barley and French barley are barley freed from the husks by 
 means of a mill ; the distinction between the two being, that pearl 
 barley is reduced to the size of small shot, all but the heart of 
 the grain being ground away. 
 
 Barley is said to contain 65 per cent, of nutritive matter ; 
 wheat 78 per cent. A bushel of barley weighing 50 pounds, 
 will therefore contain 32- pounds of nutriment; while a bushel 
 of wheat weighing 60 pounds, contains 47 pounds of nutiiment; 
 and oats, weighing 40 pounds, contain 24 pounds nutritive mat- 
 ter : so that tlie comparative value of wheat, barley, and oats, 
 in feeding cattle, may be represented by 47, 32, and 24, the 
 measuie being the same. Experiments on which this calcula- 
 tion is founded, were carefully made by Einhof, and confirmed 
 on a large scale by Thaer, at his establishment at Mogelin, the 
 account of the results-being accurately kept. 
 
 When barley is used for beer, it is previously made into what 
 is termed malt. To understand the process of malting, it may 
 be necessary to observe, that in the germination of grasses and 
 grains before the young plant is produced, the fecula of the seed 
 is changed by the heat and moisture of the earth into sugar and 
 mucilage. Malting grain isionly an artificial mode of effecting this 
 object. The grain is steepjed in cold water during a certain pe- 
 riod; the water is then. allowed to drain off, and the grain is 
 spread out on a floor. The mass gradually heats, the rootlets 
 start, and the plumula begins to growr. When this has grown 
 to a certain extent withjn the grain, the further germination is 
 checked by exposing the grain on a kiln, heated by fire to such 
 a degree as will extinguish the vitality of the seed. At this 
 period it is found that the starch is, in a great measure, converted 
 into sacphaiine matter, and by subsequent fermentation, or distil- 
 lation, either beer or spirits is produced. 
 
 Although the principal use of barley in this country and 
 England is for beer, it may be applied to other purposes. It is 
 said to be one of the best kinds of food for fattening hogs ; giv- 
 ing tlie meat an impioved flavor and consistency ; causing it 
 also to swell in the process of cooking. For the fattening of 
 poultry it is higlily recommended ; also, for food of horses, es- 
 pecially in the spring of the year, mixed with oats, and soaked 
 in water till it begins to vegetate. And when ground and mixed 
 with other grain, it is advantageously used in fattening horned 
 cattle. In Germany, barley is ground and formed into cakes 
 for the feed of horses. In traveling in that country, it is no 
 unusual thing to see the driver himself take a slice of the loaf. 
 It is albo used, as befoie remarked, for cheap bread, by the 
 
 No man has a thorough taste of prosperity to whom adversity never happened. 
 
through life, and live in distinct families with their offspring, 
 
 416 CULTURE AND USE OF BARLEY. 
 
 .2 
 
 
 poorer classes. It is not deficient in nutriment, but is dark col- 
 ored and of strong taste. It is, moreover, of value for medici- 
 nal purposes. It is recommended, when made into gruel ; being 
 pleasant, emollient, and cooling ; and the water in which it has 
 been soaked, to be mixed with nitre in fevers. 
 
 Bailey may be sown broad-cast, or in rows, giving it a single 
 turn of the harrow after the drill machine, and just a sufficient 
 number of harrowings to cover the seed in the case of broad- 
 cast sowing. It is always beneficial to roll this species of crop. 
 The operation of rolling may take place either immediately 
 after the harrowing, .or'Jifter the plants are above ground. 
 
 The seeds of clovers and grasses are also spwn with barley as 
 with wheat. They may be sown either at the time at which the 
 barley is sown, or when the plants are above ground. If at the 
 same time with the barlej', the seeds are sown just previous to 
 the last turn of the harrow ; or they may be sown after the 
 land is harrowed, and covered by the roller alone. When the 
 grass seeds cannot be sown at the same time with the barley, 
 they are to be covered, when the time of sowing them arrives, 
 by the roller alone, without the harrow. 
 
 All species of barley require a light, rich, loamy soil, which 
 retains moisture, without, however, suffering from damp ; a soil 
 which contains from fifty to sixty-five parts ia a hundred of sand, 
 and the rest chiefly clay. If, having the former of these propor- 
 tions, it be situated in a dry position, and having the latter, in a 
 moist one, it will be rendered still more adapted to the produc- 
 tion of barley. This kind of grain, however, thrives wonderfully 
 well on more clayey or stiffer soils, where there is a sufficient 
 quantity of humus to prevent the land from being too tenacious ; 
 in short, on land which may be classed among good wheat 
 grounds. 
 
 Nature has made nothing so base, but can 
 Read some instruction to the wisest man. 
 
 It matters not from what stock we are descended so long as we have merit. 
 
into it. At first it was greatly agitated. Tbeti it drew 
 
 
 CULTUEE AND USE OF OATS. 
 
 Who can paint 
 Like Nature I Can imagination boast 
 Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 
 Or can it mix them with that matchless skill ? 
 And lose them in each other, as appears 
 In every bud that blows ? 
 
 The oat is the natural inhabitant of cold latitudes. It degen- 
 erates in the warmer parts of the temperate zone, and in lower 
 latitudes disappears from cultivation. It is, of all the cereal 
 grasses, that which is most easily cultivated, growing less, indeed, 
 as all such plants do, on the better soils, but suited to every 
 kind, from peat to the lighter soils and clay. 
 
 The produce of oats varies greatly with the nature of the soil 
 and the mode of management. Thirty or forty bushels may be 
 reckoned a fair average crop. Twenty-five bushels is a small 
 or bad crop. In countries where the culture of oats is particu- 
 larly regarded, sixty bushels, and sometimes more, are obtained 
 from the acre. Oats vary in weight from thirty-five to forty-five 
 pounds to the bushel. The produce in flour is generally esti- 
 mated in the proportion of eight to fourteen ; that is, fourteen 
 pounds of grain, giving eight pounds of meal ; the proportional 
 quantity of meal, however, increasing as the oats are heavier. 
 
 Oats, ground into a coarse meal, form a considerable portion 
 of the food of laborers and persons in the middle ranks of life 
 in Scotland, Ireland, and the north of England. The meal is 
 simply stirred into boiling water with a little salt, until it be- 
 comes of the consistence of hasty pudding ; it is then called por- 
 ridge, or stirabout ; and when eaten with milk or treacle, makes 
 a wholesome and palatable food. It is sometimes mixed with 
 the thin liquor of boiled meat, or the water in which cabbages 
 or kale have been boiled. When made into dough with water, 
 and baked on an iron plate in thin cakes, it makes a bread which 
 is very palatable to those who are accustomed to it, and who 
 often prefer it to wheat bread. 
 
 The principal consumption of oats is for the feeding of horses^ 
 
 None are so oft in the wrong, as those who pretend to be always in the right. 
 
species nn^rstands the call of the male, and replies to 
 
 418 CULTURE AND USE OF OATS. 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 m 
 
 OD 
 
 4 
 
 to which purpose they are eminently adapted. In the practice 
 of the farm, it is good policy to reserve the light grains for the 
 feeding of the horses, and the heavier for seed' and for sale. The 
 practice prevails in some places, not to thrash oats to be used 
 ■ by horses kept on the farm where raised ; but to be eaten with 
 the straw, the latter being cut fine by a machine. This prac- 
 tice is a good one, provided the proper quantity can be given to 
 each horse. Horses will masticate the grain better in the chaff 
 than if taken into the mouth alone. Besides, the straw is saved, 
 and thus used, is reckoned a wholesome aliment. Possibly, 
 however, too much time would be requii-ed in this way for the 
 feeding of horses that are wanted for constant labor. In this 
 case it is better to give them thrashed oats, mixed with hay cut 
 fine. When hay is dear, it is often found economical to increase 
 the quantity, and use less of hay. The calculation is easily 
 made when it is known that one pound of oats is equal to two 
 pounds of the best hay. 
 
 The soil for oats may be of any kind whatever, provided it be 
 sufficiently dry. This grain has such vigorous organs that they 
 can dissolve and appropriate nutritious particles which would 
 be of no use to any other kind of corn. They even appear capa- 
 ble of dissolving insoluble acid humus. They will grow on the 
 most tenacious, cold, or clayey soils, as well as on poor, gravely 
 land, where nothing el^e will vegetate. They suffer from unfa- 
 vorable, inclement weather, but recover much sooner than bar- 
 ley, when the weather begins to improve. On newly-broken 
 upland, or on marshy ground, oats may be cultivated for sev- 
 eral consecutive years, and the, produce will often go on increas- 
 ing until the third or the fourth year ; while a crop of any other 
 grain would exhaust the soil at once, if not immediately amelio- 
 rated. The reason of this, probably, is, that oats appropriate 
 to their nourishment every particle which the soil will yield, and 
 which would not be dissolved by otlfer plants without the aid of 
 time and tillage. Oats, when cultivated on a fertile soil, never- 
 theless, are much more profitable. 
 
 Loudon, in his Encyclopaedia of Agriculture, observes, that 
 when oatmeal is sufficiently diluted with any 'sort of liquid, it is 
 known to be laxative, aperient, wholesome, and at the same 
 time a strengthening food, for those engaged in hard labor. En- 
 gineers, who superintend the excavation of canals, have assured 
 the reporter, that those laborers who lived entirely on oatmeal 
 and milk, did a third more work than those who used butchers' 
 meat and ardent spirits. All of the former saved money, while 
 many of the latter involved themselves in debt. As this sort of 
 work is done by the piece, it affords a fair comparison, not only 
 
 Suspicion is no less an enemy to human virtue than to happiness. 
 
say upon the floor of the garret or open chamber, and 
 
 CULTURE OF BUCKWHEAT. 419 
 
 of the -wholesomeness of oatmeal, in promoting health, but its 
 power in supplj'ing physical vigor for labor. # 
 
 Life's briers and roses— its gladness and gloom, — 
 
 Do they tanish together ! Oh — no I ■: 
 The flowers we pluck, and condense their periumd, 
 
 The weeds to the desert we throw.' 
 
 CULTURE OF BUCKWHEAT. 
 
 Where can I journey to your secret springe, 
 Eternal Nature ? Onward still I press. 
 Follow thy windings still, yet sigh for more. 
 
 BncKWHEAT is a plant known in almost every part of the 
 world. In China, Japan, and Russia, it forms a very consider- 
 able portion of the food of the inhabitants ; it is likewise eaten 
 in Switzerland and the southern parts of France ; and in Flan- 
 ders it is a considerable branch of husbandry. It has been 
 known in Europe at least from, the time of the Crusades. Ge- 
 rard speaks of it as cultivated in England about the year 
 1597. It was brought into Europe from the northern part of 
 Asia. ' 
 
 The common buckwheat bears white flowers, tinged with red. 
 Its stem is full of knots, and rises to the height of two feet or 
 more. It is said that twenty branches or stems will sometimes 
 rise from) a single seed. The flowers are in bunches, at the end 
 of the branches, and are succeeded by black, angular seeds. The 
 plant is of rapid growth, continues to flower long, and bears at 
 the same time flowers and ripened seeds. The blossoms may be 
 used for dying a brown color, and bees are so fond of them that 
 the grain, in some places, is cultivated mainly to furnish these 
 little industrious creatures with the materials for making honey. 
 These flowers impart to the honey a peculiar flavor, not by any 
 means disagreeable ; but, it also gives it a color darker than that 
 made from clover. 
 
 s- 
 
 a. 
 
 
 Captious people create trouble for themselves by troubling others. 
 
the beautifcl, should have sympathies with all In nature 
 
 420 CULTURE OF BUCKWHEAT. 
 
 J 
 
 Buckwheat thrives well in almost any kind^of dry soil, even 
 those of the poorest description. In most arable districts it is 
 sown on the inferior sorts of land ; as, when cultivated on the 
 richer kinds of soil, it is found to run too much to straw. Of 
 course, the lighter soils are adapted to it. On this account it is 
 extensively cultivated. Besides, the labor in its culture is tri- 
 fling. And what is not less material, the period in completing 
 its growth is very short. If sown in midsummer, it usually has 
 full time for attaining maturity. It is most susceptible to cold ; 
 and the slightest hoar frost will destroy it. 
 
 The success of buckwheat is remarkably affected by the 
 weather to which it is exposed, in the several stages of its growth ; 
 in this respect it is more susceptible than any other kind of 
 grain. It requires dry weather immediately after sowing, and 
 spiings up during the time of the greatest drought ; but after 
 putting forth its third leaf, it requires rain in order that its leaves 
 may be developed before the appearance of the flower, which 
 soon follows. During the long time for which it continues to 
 flower, it requires alternate rain and sunshine to facilitate its 
 growth, and enable the flowers to set. The flowers drop off 
 during thunder-storms, or even on the occurrence of electric 
 phenomena, unaccompanied by rain. Buckwheat is also incapa- 
 ble of withstanding violent easterly winds, which cause it to 
 wither before its flowers are set. After flowering, the plant 
 again requires dry weather, to bring all its seed to maturity at 
 the same time, and ensure an early harvest. 
 
 It will be perceived, therefore, that the success of buckwheat 
 is very precarious. It depends not only on the general state of 
 the weather, throughout the season, but also on the particular 
 time which may have been chosen for sowing. A week earlier, 
 or a week later, often makes a very great diflerence. Many, 
 hence, to make sure of their buckwheat crop, sow it in three or 
 four separate portions, and at different times. The seed should 
 be simply covered up with the harrow. It is said that the roller 
 is found injurious to it. 
 
 The ripening of the grain is very unequal ; for the plant is 
 continually flowering and setting. We must, therefore, cut it at 
 the same time the greatest quantity of grain is ripe. It some- 
 times happens that the first flowers do not set, or that they 
 produce nothing but barren seeds, destitute of farina, wliile those 
 that come out later yield better seed. But the grain will ripen, 
 and even the flowers set, while the crop is lying on the ground, 
 after cutting, especially if rain fall. This occurrence, therefore, 
 is considered favorable. Extraordinary crops, amounting to 
 twenty bushels per acre, are but very rarely obtained. 
 
 Complain not of the shortness of life, but employ thy time usefully. 
 
of our superiors, if we have any ; the pity of our equals ; 
 
 o 
 
 ■3 
 '$ 
 
 ta 
 
 •s 
 
 CULTURE OF BUCKWHEAT. 421 
 
 The seeds of the buckwheat may be given advantageously to 
 horses, to poultry, and to hogs. The external part of them 
 being rubbed off, by a coarse grinding, they may be Used for 
 human food like rice. They may also be converted into flour. 
 And, in short, there is no purpose for which the grain of the ce- 
 real grasses can be used, to which the farina of buckwheat may 
 not be applied. But, though the flour is white and wholesome, 
 it is comparatively deficient in gluten, and so does not undergo 
 the needful fermentation, like wheat ; for which reason it is gen- 
 erally made into small cakes. These cakes are highly relished 
 by nearly all who have eaten them ; and, in some districts of our 
 country, where the grain is raised in large quantities, they con- 
 stitute, in th« winter season, an important part of the food of 
 the inhabitants. The quality of the cakes depends much on the 
 manner of cooking them. 
 
 The stem of buckwheat, when green, seems to be nourishing, 
 but when dried it is hard, and not readily eaten by any kind of 
 animals. This, and the little comparative quantity of fodder 
 produced, are the principal, objections to the extension of its cul- 
 ture ; for, if the grain fail, and the straw is of little value, the 
 labor of cultivation is nearly lost. Nevertheless, from the facility 
 with which the plant is grown, and this on soils low in the scale 
 of fertility, its cultivation might be more general than it is, espe- 
 cially where land is abundant. In the Netherlands, it forms a 
 regular part of the rotation, and is sown on all soils where other 
 grains cannot be prepared in time. 
 
 One of the purposes to which it has been applied, from time 
 immemorial, and for which, from the quickness with which it 
 grows, it seems well adapted, is the ploughing it down green, 
 as a manure for the land. Farmers who have made trial of this 
 practice, speak favorably of its effects; and cases may, doubt- 
 less, be conceived, where it may be beneficially adopted. But, 
 generally, where a good system of agriculture is established, 
 and where a proper combination of the practice of tillage and 
 feeding live stock exists, a green crop, when raised, will be more 
 advantageously applied to the feeding of animals in the first 
 place, and then the manure, which the consumption of it pro- 
 duces, applied to the ground. 
 
 The product of buckwheat in the United States, for 1847, has 
 been estimated at twelve millions of bushels, or a little less ; 
 and more than half of the amount was raised in the States 
 of Pennsylvania and New York. It is said that in Ohio the 
 kernels have grown far larger than elsewhere known, and 
 that the product upon the acre has been proportionably larger. 
 Whether this was the result of some contingent circumstances. 
 
 Constant serenity of mind can only be obtained by a dear conscience. 
 
be very obatinate, and yet not persevere in his opInioD 
 
 422 CULTURE AND USE OF RICE. 
 
 I 
 
 or of some permanent adaptation of the soil and climate to the 
 grain, has not been determined. 
 
 Here all your carea are done •, 
 
 Leave the last labors to the parent sun ; 
 Beneath the genial smiles the vcell-dress'd field, 
 Whei) autumn £alls, a plenteous crop shall yield. 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF RICE. 
 
 The trees are clothed with leaves, the fields with grass. 
 The blossoms blow, the birds on bushes sing, 
 And nature accomplished all the spring. 
 
 If an estimate were to be made of the relative importance of 
 vegetable productions in the support of human life, the rice 
 plant might be placed in the first grade. Its culture has altered 
 materially the face of the globe and the destiny of nations. 
 For this purpose immense districts of country have been re- 
 claimed that would otherwise have remained worthless. It has 
 been supposed, too, that to this grain the Chinese and Hindoos 
 owe their early civilization. A vast population, almost surpass- 
 ing credibility, in those and surrounding countries, is now de- 
 pendent on the rice crops ; and when these fail, thousands 
 perish of hunger. 
 
 The culm of rice is from one to six het in height, annual, 
 erect, simple, round, and jointed ; the leaves are large, firm, 
 and pointed ; arising from very long, cylindrical, and finely 
 striated sheaths ; the flowers are disposed in a large and beau- 
 tiful panicle, somewhat resembling' that of the oat. The seeds 
 are white and oblong, but vary in size and form in the numer- 
 ous varieties, which may be classed in two general divisions : 
 the mountain rice, which grows in dry, elevated soils ; and the 
 marshy, which is sown in low, swampy districts. Rice can be 
 profitably cultivated only in warm climates, although it has 
 been in a measure acclimated to districts of Germany ; and 
 small parcels have been raised in the neighborhood of Annap- 
 polis, Maryland. And a crop has been obtained, even as far 
 north as England, on the banks of the river Thames. These 
 cases are mere exceptions, however, to the natural habits of the 
 
 CoQcessipn is no humiliation, nor admission of error any disgrace. 
 
0-wn creations. The wealth of the merchant arises from profits 
 
 &b 
 
 .a 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF RICE. 423 
 
 plant, and furnish no ground for an opinion in favor of its cul- 
 tivation in high latitudes. 
 
 The Chinese obtain two cTops a year from the same groijnd, 
 and cultivate it in this way from generation to generation on the 
 same soil, and without any other manure than tlie mud depos- 
 ited from the water of the river used in overflowing it. After 
 the waters of the imlndation have withdrawn, a few days are 
 allowed for the mud to become partially dry ; then a small spot, 
 is enclosed by an embankment, lightly ploughed and harrowed, 
 and the grain, previously steeped in "dung diluted with animal 
 water, is then sown very thickly on it. A thin sheet of water 
 is immediately brought over it, either by a stream or the chain 
 pump. In the mean time, other spaces are being prepared in 
 a similar manner for planting. Wlien the plants are six or 
 seven inches high, they are transplanted in furrows made by 
 the plough, so as to stand about a foot apart every way. The 
 water is then brought over them, and kept on till the crop be- 
 gins to ripen, when it is withheld ; so that when the harvest 
 arrives, the field is quite dry. In Japan, Ceylon, and Java, 
 aquatic rice is cultivated nearly in the same way. 
 
 Aquatic rice is cultivated by the Chinese, even in the midst 
 of rivers and lakes, by means of rafts made of bamboo, and 
 covered with earth. Mountain rice is cultivated on the moun- 
 tains of the eastern islands and of Cochin-China, much in the 
 same way as our barley ; but it is to be observed, that it is 
 planted at the commencement of the rainy season, and reaped 
 at the beginning of the dry season, and also that these moun- 
 tains receive from the atmosphere a much greater proportion of 
 moisture than lower districts. Theie is a kind of rice hardy 
 enough to grow on the edge of the Himalaya snows, and which 
 may probably, at some future time, prove a valuable acquisition 
 to northern climates. , 
 
 As an article of diet, rice has been extolled as superior to 
 almost every other vegetable. Large quantities are annually 
 imported into Europe, and it is highly esteemed in puddings 
 and numerous other culinary preparations. On account of 1* 
 being destitute of gluten, it cannot be made into bread, like 
 wheat. Indeed, on account of its excellence and cheapness, it 
 claims attention as a general article of sustenance for the poorer 
 classes of society ; as it is well known, that a quarter of a 
 pound of rice, slowly boiled, will yield more than a pound of 
 solid nutritive food. However, it is found that, in Europe, the 
 poor constantly reject the use of rice when potatoes are to be 
 had ; and, in truth, it does not seem to be so well adapted to 
 European constitutions as that root. 
 
 Courtesies, mutually ezchaoged, are ma^rial ingredients ia friendship. 
 
himself found three eggs which, protected from the action of 
 
 424 CULTURE AND USE OF RICE. 
 
 n 
 
 rf3 
 
 S 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 I. 
 
 a 
 
 The culture of rice is an important branch of agricultural 
 attention in some of the southern portions of the United States. 
 In J847 it is estimated that there were raised there over one 
 hundred million pounds. The value of it cannot be less than 
 three millions of dollars — probably more. About three-fourths 
 of this was produced in the State of South Carolina. 
 
 Dr. Cartwright says, the best rice lands of South Carolina 
 are valued at five hundred dollars per acre, while the best cot- 
 ton lands sell for a tenth part of that sum ; proving that rice is 
 more profitable than cotton. The profits of a crop should not 
 so much be reckoned by the yield per acre, as the number of 
 acres a laborer can till. After the land is properly prepared for 
 inundation, by leveling, ditching, and embankments, a single in- 
 dividual can grow almost an indefinite number of pounds. Rice, 
 says he, no doubt, is ultimately destined to supersede cotton, in 
 a large portion of Mississippi and Louisiana. 1 
 
 The system of cultivation on the rice lands of the lower Mis- 
 sissippi, according to this gentleman, is to sow the rice broad-cast, 
 about as thick as wheat is sown at the North. A light harrow, 
 with many teeth, is then passed over it ; the ground having been 
 well ploughed and prepared by ditches and embankments, for 
 inundation at will. It is generally sown in March. Immedi- 
 ately after sowing, the water is let on, so as barely to cover the 
 ground. The water is withdrawn on the second, third, or fourth 
 day, or as soon as the grain begins to swell. The rice very soon 
 after comes up, and grows finely. When it has attained about 
 three inches in height, the water is again let on ; the top leaves 
 being left a little above the water. Complete immersion would 
 kill the plant. A fortnight previous to harvest, the water is 
 drawn off, to give the stalks strength, and to dry the ground, 
 for the convenience of the reapers. 
 
 Another mode of culture has been given by Mr. Bordley. 
 The ground is first prepared, by ploughing, ditches, and em- 
 bankments. Then the seed is sown in drills, about twenty- 
 seven inches apart. At proper times irrigation takes place, as 
 in the other case, partly to facilitate the progress of vegetation, 
 and partly to destroy the weeds. So far as the latter is not ac- 
 complished by the water, it is to be done by ploughing between 
 the rows, by the use of the hoe, and by hand-weeding. He 
 adds, that the stalks of rice are a good substitute for hay, being 
 green when the grain is ripened sufficiently for harvest. 
 
 The land was beautiful — 
 Fair rose the spires, and gay the buildings were. 
 And rich the plains, like dreams of blessed isles ; 
 But I heard my country's music breathe, 
 I sigb'd to be among her wilds again 1 
 
 Good men are masters of their pleasures ; the bad are their slaves. 
 
68 
 
 but nsuallj in the elephant, which, at the same time, 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF COTTON. 
 
 Full ample the dominions of the Bun 1 
 Full glorious to behold ! how far, how wide. 
 The match! ess monarch from his flaming throne, 
 Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him. 
 Farther and farther than a thought can fly, 
 And feeds bis planets with eternal fires 1 
 
 In the whole range of ITatural History, naught is to be found 
 more interesting to the general student than the physiology, the 
 culture, and the history of cotton. Here the philosopher may 
 discover an element in political economy that has resolved wealth 
 and society into new combinations. If this element could now 
 be stricken out of existence, the whole world, as it were, would 
 change its aspect. Cities and villages, and wide rural districts, 
 would disappear, as if sunk by an earthquake, leaving nothing 
 intheir place but deep chasms, perhaps as incapable of sustain- 
 ing animal life as the Dead Sea ; their once busy inhabitants 
 driven away in starvation, or submerged in the putrid waters ! 
 To the agriculturist this subject imparts the most lively in- 
 terest. 
 
 Cotton is cultivated in the East and the West Indies ; in North 
 and South America ; in Egypt ; and, indeed, in most parts of 
 the civilized world, where the climate is sufficiently warm. Con- 
 sidering its value, it is surprising that it is even no more cultivated 
 tlian it is — especially as the process is so simple, and suitable lo- 
 calities so abundant. It is an annual, and if permitted to retain 
 all its vegetable developments, attains a considerable height. It 
 has leaves of a bright green color, marked with brownish veins, 
 and each divided into five lobes. The flowers have only one 
 petal in five segments, with a short tube, and are white or of a 
 pale yellow color, with five red spots at the bottom. 
 
 In the cotton plantations, the ground is reguljirly laid out, and 
 the holes are made for the seeds, at the distance of twelve to 
 thiity-six inches apart, according to the richness of the soil. In 
 each of these several seeds are dropped, though all are not suf- 
 fered to grow, the weaker ones being pulled up as soon as the 
 planter can discover which will thrive the best ; so that only 
 two or three are left 'n each spot. As these grow, they are 
 
 Imitate the dove in innocence, and the serpent in wisdom. 
 
and even lions, to his chariot wheels, should never 
 
 426 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF COTTON. 
 
 pruned, so as to yield the greatest supposable amount of fruit, 
 as cotton is called. To do this in the best manner, experience 
 is required, as in the culture of grapes or any other fruiti 
 
 The cotton pods are somewhat triangular in shape, and have 
 each three cells. These, when ripe, burst open, and disclose 
 their snow-white and yellowish contents, in the midst of which 
 are contained the seeds, in shape resembling the seeds of grapes, 
 but larger. The cotton thus exposed to view, on tlje bursting 
 of the pods, appears like snow-balls. The cotton-fields of the 
 South, when fully in a flourishing state, exhibit an appearance 
 which cannot fail to delight the lovers of natural scenery. As 
 far as the eye can reach, may be seen a combined assemblage of 
 vegetable beauty, and undulating like the waves of a quiet ocean. 
 Amidst the green foliage, all the varied hues of the flowers are 
 constantly changing their reflections, almost like the presenta- 
 tions of the revolving kaleidoscope. Scarcely does the spectator 
 know at which moment he is most enraptured. He may assume 
 and occupy some point of observation for weeks, but the scene 
 is always new ; each day exhibiting new tints in this waving 
 mass of leaves and flowers. One cannot be wearied in looking 
 at it. If in a measure monotonous, it is like the monotony of 
 the Western prairie, with its thousands of natural embellish- 
 ments in the period of summer ; or, like the monotony of a clear 
 midnight sky, on which one might gaze forever — indeed, bewil- 
 dered, but netver wearied. 
 
 To a person wholly unused to Southern scenery, the period of 
 cotton harvest will impart an additional^eature of interest. 
 We are no advocates for human slavery in any form. We have 
 seen much of it, both mental and physical, in the world, all 
 around us — scarcely do we know which is the greatest evil, or 
 which is most to be deprecated. May the time come, when all 
 possessing an immortal spirit will be allowed and enabled to 
 exercise the freedom which was once man's birthright ! But, 
 if we cannot tell which of these two kinds of slavery is most to 
 be deprecated, that in the latter there are occasional hallucina- 
 tions of pleasure, no one will deny : — when the chains of bon- 
 dage are slightly felt by those who wear them, and are faintly 
 commiserated by those who witness them. This will often ap- 
 pear in the cotton harvest. It would require more gravity than 
 most sympathizers can command, to appear very sad on behold- 
 ing a few dozen negroes, with their bags and baskets of cotton 
 — the one black as ebony, the other white as snow — making a 
 panorama of the grotesque, which never entered the imagina- 
 tion of the painter till he saw the reality. The poor laborers 
 certainly seem to receive an impulse from the spectacle they 
 
 Never do that by force which may be effected by fair means. 
 
son, she replied that she had endeavored early to teach 
 
 49 
 
 ■a 
 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF COTTON. 427 
 
 assist in forming, for their merry notes would indicate that the 
 World around them belonged to no one but themselves. 
 
 The fibres of cotton, as all know, are extremely fine, delicate, 
 and flexile. When examined by the microscope, they are 
 found to be rather flat, and two-edged or triangular. Their 
 direction is not straight, but contorted, so that the locks can 
 be extended or drawn out without violence to them. The two 
 priocipal kinds of cotton found in the United States are the 
 sea-island and the upland. The former is the most valuable ; 
 it has a long, fine staple, and is peculiarly adapted to the man- 
 ufacture of the finest fabrics. There is, however, another spe- 
 cies, called the nankeen cotton, of a yellow color, which, when 
 manufactured, is highly esteemed for its beauty, and commands 
 a high price. The cottoa raised in the United States in 1847 
 was estimated at 1,041,500,000 pounds, and valued at seventy^ 
 three millions of dollars. In 1834, four hundred and sixty mil- 
 lions ; in 1831, three hundred and eighty-five millions ; in 1821, 
 one hundred and eighty millions ; in 1811, eighty millions ; in 
 1801, forty-eight millions; and in 1791 only two millions were 
 raised. So rapid has been the increase of its culture in our 
 country. 
 
 The whole process of manufacturing cotton has been so im- 
 proved of late years, by ingenious machinery, as to be totally 
 changed. By this means it can be afforded cheaper at the mar- 
 ket ; a much larger quantity is thus disposed of ; and the trade 
 has become a great source of emolument, while it affords em- 
 ployment to large? iiiasses of people. The English are able even 
 to fetch the cotton from India, work it up into muslins, send it 
 back again, all that way, and sell it in Hindostan cheaper than 
 the natives can produce it on the spot. The spinning of cotton 
 was once a very tedious process ; one thread at a time, by a 
 pair of hands, could make but little progress. This spinning is 
 now performed by machinery, in a manner most ingenious, and, 
 to those unaccustomed to it, very surprising. That the pliant 
 fingers should be superseded and excelled by a pair of rollers, 
 whirled round by a steam-engine, or a body of water, or any 
 other inanimate power, seems to be an astonishing eflfort of 
 art. 
 
 Of the amount of cotton annually manufactured, the following 
 calculation has been made. All such calculations must of course 
 be very general ; and, although defective and imperfect, will 
 convey impressions approximating to the reality. Thus, it is 
 presumed that three hundi'ed and fifty millions of pounds are 
 manufactured in England ; one hundred and fifty millions in the 
 United States ; eighty millions in France ; two hundred and 
 
 Our owD caprice i^ more extravagant than the caprice of fortune. 
 
quake, and not in silence, as it now makes its appearance, 
 
 428 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF COTTON. 
 
 fift}' millions in India and China ; twenty-five millions in South 
 America and Mexico ; thirty-five in Germany ; forty-five in Tur- 
 key and Africa ; ten in Spain ; twenty in Prussia ; and the re- 
 mainder of it elsewhere. About two-thirds raised in the whole 
 world is the produce of the United States. 
 
 The history of the growth of cotton is peculiarly interesting. 
 Although it was found in this country when discovered by the 
 Spaniards, the culture has been increased only at a moderate 
 rate till within a moderate length of time. If other facts were 
 wanting, the amount of cotton now raised in this country would 
 sufficiently show the enterprise and the indomitable energy of 
 the Americans. Its use has been known in the earliest ages of 
 which we have written memorials. The ancient Egyptians were 
 familiar with it. Herodotus says it was known before his day. 
 In his account of the Indians, he says, " They possess a kind of 
 plant which, instead of fruit, produces a wool of a finer and bet- 
 ter quality than that of sheep. Of this they make their clothes." 
 Pliny, in his description of the island of Tylos, in the PersiaD 
 Gulf, mentions among its productions certain wool-bearing trees, 
 that " bear a fruit like a gourd, and of the size of a quince, 
 which bursting when it is ripe, displays a ball of downy wool, 
 from which are made costly garments of a fabric resembling 
 linen." And we have authentic accounts that the article was 
 in possession of the Chinese previous to the thirteenth century ; 
 and that, on the ascension of the Tartar dynasty, its culture for 
 common use became general. Yet, as bg&re observed, two- 
 thirds^ of all raised in the known world is now the produce of 
 our own countrymen. 
 
 Can man conceive beyond what God can do ! 
 
 Nothing, but quite impossible, is hard. 
 
 He summons into being, with like ease, 
 
 A whole creation^ and a single grain. 
 
 Speaks he the word ? A thousand worlds are bom I 
 
 A tliousand worlds I There's space for millions more I 
 
 And in what space can his great fiat fail ? 
 
 Darts not his glory a still brighter ray 
 
 The less is left to Chaos ? 
 
 Pride hides our own faults, and magnifies the faults of others. 
 
mechanic, the artisan, the inventor, the producer ? Far 
 
 i 
 
 a 
 
 to 
 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF TOBACCO. 
 
 Good taste and nature always speak the same, 
 For 'wisdom ever echoes nature's voice. 
 
 Our first knowledge of this plant, now so extensively used, 
 was through the Spaniards, about the year 1560. They brought 
 it from Tobago, in the province of Yucatan, from which place 
 it obtains its name. The derivation here given has been dis- 
 puted. It may not, indeed, be correct ; but it is certainly plau- 
 sible, and no sound argument has been seen against it. Till a 
 better one is furnished, we shall be content with this. Sir Wal- 
 ter Raleigh introduced it into England.. The first time he 
 smoked, it was in private ; he had called his servant for a jug 
 of water ; when the man brought it in, he saw the smoke com- 
 ing out of his master's mouth, and naturally supposing he 
 was on fire, as naturally threw the jug of water over him, to 
 put it out. Whether this anecdote be true or not, is immate- 
 rial. The moral of it is the same. 
 
 The introduction and use of to})acco form a singular chapter 
 in the history of mankind ; and it may well excite astonishment, 
 that the discoverj^-ii -A-merica of a nauseous and poisonous 
 weed, of an acrid|taste and disagreeable odor, in short, whose 
 only properties ai-Sdeleterious, should have had so great an in- 
 fluence on the socfe condition of all nations ; that it should 
 have become an article of extensive commerce ; and that its 
 culture should have spread more rapidly than that of the most 
 useful plants. At the time of the discovery of America, to- 
 bacco was in frequent use among the Indians, and the practice 
 of smoking was common to almost all the tribes ; and by it 
 they pretended to cure a great variety of diseases. 
 
 Its introduction into the Eastern continent was everywhere 
 marked with ridicule and persecution. A hook was written 
 against it even by the King of Great Britain, James I. ; and per- 
 haps a hundred others of the same character Avere published 
 in various languages.' Pope Urban VIII. excommunicated all 
 who took tobacco in churches ; and the Empress Elizabeth also 
 prohibited the use of it in churches. In Transylvania, an ordi- 
 nance was published, in 1689, threatening those who should 
 plant tobacco with the confiscation of their estates. The Grand- 
 duke of Moscow and the King of Persia forbade its use under 
 the penalty of the loss of the nose, or even of death. 
 
 L' 
 
 Pity the frailty of a man, but propagate not an evil report of him. 
 
Bpend without earniDg, who consume without producing, 
 
 430 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF TOBACCO. 
 
 o 
 p. 
 
 At present, the aspect of affairs is so mucli altered, that all 
 the sovereigns of Europe, and most of those of other parts of 
 the world, derive a considerable part of their revenues from 
 tobacco. It having been introduced into England by Raleigh 
 and other young men of fashion, its use rapidly spread in that 
 country, as it previously had done among the Portuguese, Span- 
 iards, and French. During the reign of George 'III., the pracr 
 tice of smoking, which had previously been exceedingly preva- 
 lent, went out of fashion, and was nearly superseded, among 
 the higher and middle classes, by that of snuflF-taking. Lat- 
 terly, however, smoking has been revived in that country. Th6 
 practice of smoking has become so general, especially in Hoi-' 
 land and Germany, that it constitutes a daily luxury with nearly 
 all the peasantry of those countries, as well as with the 'more 
 indolent and wealthy classes. 
 
 Tobacco is a powerful narcotic, and also a stropg stimulant, 
 and, taken internally, even in small doses, it pro\ es powerfully 
 emetic and cathartic. The oil is celebrated for its extreme viru- 
 lence, and when applied to a wound, is said, by Redi, to be as 
 fatal as the poison of a viper. The decoction, powder, and 
 smoke are used in agriculture to destroy insects. The article 
 is not only used for smoking ^jjd chewitag, but for snuflf. In 
 the manufacture of the latter, varioUs matters are added for 
 ffivins; it an agreeable scent ; and hence the numerous varieties 
 
 Virginia has been famous for the succe^^Hbultivation of the 
 tobacco plant. It became the staple of thsHprovince ; but it is. 
 now giving way to a much wider cultivation of wheat. The 
 tobacco plant, when full grown, will rise to six feet in height. 
 The stem is pretty straight, rather hairy and clammy. The 
 leaves are of considerable length, of a yellow green ; those 
 nearest the ground are the largest, but they make the coarsest 
 tobacco. As the plants grow, they require much attention, to 
 keep the ground between the rows clear from weeds ; and to 
 pull off all the lowest and coarsest leaves from the plant itself, 
 in order to feed more fully the upper ones. This laborious 
 woik is done by negroes. When the leaf turns brown, the 
 plant is ripe. The plants, as they ripen, are cut down, and laid 
 in a heap to heat ; after which they are hung up separately to 
 dry, in houses built on purpose. The tobacco of Cuba, for 
 smoking, is the best raised. Recently, the exportation of cigars 
 from that island is said to have amounted to 200,000 boxes a 
 year. 
 
 It is stated that as early as 1615, the fields, gardens, streets, 
 and public squares of Jamestown, in Virginia, were planted with 
 
 Liberality makes frienda :>! enemies ; pride makes enemies of friends. 
 
deceat and comfortable ; when you owe no one, and no 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF TOBACCO. 431 
 
 ■B 
 
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 bo 
 
 a 
 
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 bo 
 
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 5 
 
 3 
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 tobacco, wliieh was used as a currency in that, as well as many 
 other of the Southern States. As a sample of this, in 1669, by 
 enactment in Virginia, the crimes of adultery and fornication 
 "were punished by a fine of from five hundred to one thousand 
 poup.ds of tobacco. For the thirty years preceding 1775, the 
 annual 'export.of tobacco from the United States was 40,000,000 
 pounds. Inthe»next seven years, which embraced the Revolu- 
 tionary War, the entire export was 86,000,000 of pounds ; but 
 34,000,000 pounds of this were captured by the British. In the 
 three .succeeding years the export was about '90,000,000 of » 
 pounds. The whole crop of tobacco in the United States in 
 1847 is estimated at a little over 220,000,000 pounds, which, at 
 the low price of five cents the pound, amounts to the sum of 
 $11,000,000. 
 
 But all the tobacco raised in the United States is by no means 
 exported. And from the following estimate of its consumption 
 ■with us, it appears that we are not satisfied in using that which 
 we raise, but actually import it. Thus, in the year 1834,' the 
 value of tobacco used in the United States was supposed to be 
 816,000,000, of which $9,000,000 were for Spanish cigars; 
 $6,500,000 for smoking Ammcan tobacco and chewing ; and 
 $500,000 for snufl". In ^S3S7 tbe consumption of tobacco had 
 increascid in the United Stat^' Jo* li% 000,000 pounds, valued 
 at $20,000,000 cost to the consumers, -at that time being seven 
 pounds to each individual of the whole population. 
 
 An eiTor has e^tensively'preyailed, that the climate of the- 
 Southern States alone is fa^jorable to the cultivation of the 
 tobacco plant. This mistake is apparent from the fact that it is 
 produced with tolerable "success, in small quantities, in most of 
 the Northern and Western States. This appears from the sta- 
 tistics connected with our national census. 
 
 For genuine happiness we need not roam ; 
 'Tis doubtless found with little, and at home. 
 
 ■g 
 
 o 
 S. 
 
 It is much easier to rouse the passions than t,o direct the mind. 
 
thougli calamities have crossed tliee, and misery teen heaped 
 
 < 
 
 60 
 
 a 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF SUGAR. 
 
 His best companions, innocence and health, 
 And liis best wishes, ignorance of wealth. 
 
 The art of cultivating the sugar-cane has been practiced in 
 China from the highest antiqjiity. It was unknown to the an- 
 cient Egyptians, Jews, Greeks, or Romans, and did not pass into 
 Arabia till flie end of the thirteenth century. From Arabia it 
 was carried into Egypt, Nubia, and Ethiopia. The Moors ob- 
 tained it from Egypt, and the Spaniards from the Moors. In 
 the fifteenth century, the cane was introduced into the Canary 
 Islands by the Spaniards, and into Madeira by the Portuguese, 
 and thence into the West India Islands and the Brazils. 
 
 Previous to the year 1466, sugar was known in England 
 chiefly as a medicine ; and, though cultivated in a few places on 
 the Mediterranean, it was not more generally used on the Con- 
 tinent. Now, in point of importance, it ranks next to wheat and 
 rice, among all the j5roducts of ttiffcegetable world, and has 
 become the first article of maritime commerce. The Atlantic 
 has been the principal theatre of this trade, which, more than 
 any other circumstance, contributed to give a new spring to com- 
 merce in Europe, and to engraft slavery, ■with all its calamities, 
 upon the New World. 
 
 The sugar-cane, like the bamboo and Indian com, belongs to 
 the family of the grasses. It grows to the height of seven or 
 eight feet, or more, and its broad leaves, and large, silky pan- 
 icles-, give it a beautiful aspect. The stems are very smooth, 
 shining, and filled with spongy pith. The flowers are small and 
 very abundant, clothed externally with numerous silky hairs. 
 The sugar-cane flowers only after the lapse of an entire year. 
 In the West Indies, it is propagated by cuttings from the root 
 end, planted in hills or trenches in the spring or autumn. A 
 plantation lasts from six to ten years. 
 
 The juice of the sugar-cane is so palatable and nutritive, that, 
 during the sugar harvest, every creature which partakes freely 
 of it, whether man or dumb beast, appears to derive health and 
 vigor from its use. The meagre and sickly negroes exhibit at 
 this season a surprising alteration; and the laboring horses, 
 oxen, and mules, though constantly at work, yet, as they are 
 allowed to eat, almost without restraint, of the refuse plants 
 and scummings from the boiling-house, improve infinitely more 
 
 Fine. sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as common sense. 
 
 _____ ^|^« : 
 
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 ■i.JH/iv 
 
 „ ^' 7-^^':M^!i ' 
 
can save, tjjew. ' They ieithej: get married before tbey 
 
 
 
 <li 
 
 .CULTURE AND HISTORY OF SUGAR. 433 
 
 tbaa at any other period of the year. Indeed, sugar is sup- 
 posed t/j be the most noujishiBg suh^Hice. in nature; persons 
 have lived upon it, in tiraiS of scarcity, >on lliard a ship ; it is 
 also wholesome, as it in, siieh eases cijied CTie scurvy. Tlie 
 Indians prefer it for their long journeys, because it does not 
 corrupt and spoil, like many. Sortg; of provisions ; and they mix- 
 it with an equal quantity of powdered Indian corn. It may be 
 a,dded, that the plague has never ' appeared in tliose countries 
 j^fl^ere; it is in much use; an,d, also, that it tends to hinderfthe 
 virulence of malignant fevers. , , i • 
 
 . ; About one hundred years ago,, that is, in^ 11751, some French 
 Jesuits are said to have planted sugai--cane on the present site 
 qf the city of New Orleans. For more thsft^iferty years the 
 progress in the culture was slow. But on the breaking out of 
 the revolutipn in St, Domingo, a large number of planters from 
 j^l^at island came to, the State of Louisiana, to devote themselves 
 to this branch of agriculture. They brought with them an 
 inferior variety of the article, the only one to which they had 
 been accustomed at that time ; but from this small beginning 
 the cultivation qf the cane has become an important branch of 
 rurf^l economy in the Southern States. It has, however, been 
 mostly confined to the State in which it commenced. Fourteen 
 out of the twenty-three parishes in Louisiana, it is said, now an- 
 nually produce sugar worth $10,000,000. Till recently, the 
 rich low lands have been used ; but now it is ascertained that 
 more ejevatedi localities will , answer the purpose. The experi- 
 ment has b,^n tried successfully on, the high grounds back of 
 Baton Rouge and abpye Eayoiu Sara, and still higher up on the 
 Bed River. The sugar-cane, at present cultivated, was brought 
 in 1805 froni the island of Otaheite. Some attention hap been 
 paid to the subject in Georgia and Florida ; but it is probable 
 that Texas will ultipaately be the great riyial of Lonisiana ' in 
 the production of sugar. 
 
 The steady progress of Louisiana affords the most gratifying 
 assurance .that she will ere long, especially when substantially 
 aided by a few of her near sister states, supply sugar to meet 
 the demands of tie whole American 'Union. This would be a 
 most desirable consgroijiation, not merely as furnishing evidence 
 of the prosperity of that coramonwealtli, but indirectly as con- 
 tributing to the perpetual unity and comity of the republic. 
 The consequence would be reciprocity of trade between the two 
 most distant sectionsi of \U the south-west and the north-east ; 
 the latter sending, her , manufactures to the former, and she re- 
 turning her sugar and cotton. Thus each would make* mar- 
 ket for the surplus staple of, the other ; rendering, in reality, the 
 
 
 Do nothing to-day that you are likely to repent of to-morrow. 
 
 .1 
 
particular period, experiences sorrow and distress. Pains and 
 
 434 CULTURE AND HISTORY OF SUGAR. 
 
 m I 
 
 fH 
 
 interest of both one common interest ; thereby removing all 
 occasion for jealousy and rivalry. Were this to become the 
 condition of all 'the confederalied members of the American 
 Union, truly happy and p'rqsperous would be our land ; no jeal- 
 ousies ; no collusions — each part as needful to all the other 
 parts, a"s all the members of the human figure are needful to its 
 perfection and beauty. The world might then look upon us 
 with envy ; and we al),JndivWually and collectively, might re- 
 joice in our common destiny. The product of sugar in the 
 United States for 1847, was 324,940,500 pounds. 
 
 In 1844, the whole amount produced from all the sugar- 
 growing countrie^in the world, was set down at 778,000 tons, 
 of which 200,000 were supplied by Cuba alone. It is probable 
 that by the present' time, therefore, it can scarcely be less than 
 850,000 to 900,000 tons, if we include beet and maple sugar. 
 It is estimated that Great Britain consumes as much as 250,000 
 tons; the rest of Europe 450,000; the United States 150,000 
 to 160,000 tons or more; and Canada and the other British 
 colonies, 25,000 tons. 
 
 The amount of beet sugar made in France for one year end- 
 ing in 1847, was computed at 107,190,110 pounds, a valuable 
 increase on previous years. It is well known as a fact of his- 
 tory, that the origin of this manufacture, as a national one, 
 sprung from the necessities of the French people, when, in 
 their wars, they were cut off from the usual supplies of cane 
 sugar from the West Indies. It is not less, too,^ matter of 
 record, how great was the ridicule cast upon the ^mperor Na- 
 poleon for his efforts by the way of encouragement' to this busi- 
 ness. But the best science of that cultivated nation was brought 
 to bear upon it, one difficulty after another disappeared, and 
 now it has become a constantly enlarging and lucrative branch 
 of business, not only supplying the means of livelihood to mul- 
 titudes, but, in a measure, relieving the whole realm from de- 
 pendence on foreign nations for this useful article of subsistence 
 and luxury. 
 
 Were equal industry and science applied in this country to 
 the manufacture of either beet or corn-stalk sugar, it is believed 
 that the most important results might be effected. In some 
 future years very probably such may be the case. But so long 
 as incredulity prevents effort, or that there is no immediate 
 demand for such an article, but little can be expected. Yet the 
 success of the first crude trials which have been made, has been 
 fully equal to that of the earliest attempts respecting the man- 
 ufacture of the beet sugar, and enough to warrant the most 
 isanguine expectations. That a syrup or molasses can be made 
 
 Dissimulation in youth is tlie forerunner of perfidy in old age. 
 
midst t>f abundance ; for what is dyspepsia but the -worst sort of 
 
 CULTURE VND HISTORY OF SUGAR. 435 
 
 
 from the corn-stalk, seems to be readily admitted. That sugar 
 has been made, is equally certain ; that it may become a profit- 
 able object for the agriculturist, \vill doubtless be demonstrated, 
 when more determined effort shall have been made to remove 
 the difficulties and overcome the obstacles which have hitherto 
 impeded the draining of the syrup. 
 
 In New England, and in the states bordering upon the great 
 northern lakes, most persons are familiar with the fact, that 
 sugar is made in spring, from the sap of the rock maple, or the 
 sugar maple, as it is sometimes called ; but as it is mostly made 
 by families for their own consumption, and not for market, the 
 quantity manufactured is far greater than is generally imagined. 
 The quantity annually sold in the city of New York is supposed 
 to exceed 10,000 hhds., and the product for the State of Ver- 
 mont alone, in 1845, was estimated at 10,000,000 pounds. This 
 tree is ranked next to the sugar-cane in the readiness and abun- 
 dance with which it yields its rich treasure. A single tree has 
 been known to give out in one day twenty-four gallons of sap, 
 making over seven and one quarter pounds of sugar ; and, in a 
 season, sap to make thirty-three pounds of sugar. However, 
 this is an unusual case ; and an annual product of six pounds 
 from a tree is a fair estimate. The sugar, in a brown state, has 
 a peculiar flavor, very acceptable to those accustomed to it, 
 though perhaps to some others objectionable.' When refined, 
 this pecnliarity of flavor does not exist. Mr. Allen, of the Ag- 
 riculturist, from his own observations, gives a very beautiful and 
 graphic descrtption of maple orchards or forests, and of the 
 entire process of collecting the sap, and converting it into sugar. 
 It agrees so well with our own recollection of scenes as famil- 
 iar to us in childhood as household words, that, would our lim- 
 its permit, we should copy it entire. 
 
 Thus in nature's verdure wrought, 
 To instruct our wandering thought ; 
 Thus she dresses green and gay, 
 To disperse our cares away. 
 
 Diligence is the parent of science and the dispenser of excellence. 
 
ia not e|ijoy|H;ent. If you would take pleasure in the 
 
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 tie 
 
 C- 
 
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 1^ 
 
 HISTOEY AND CULTUEE OP GEAPES^ 
 
 If good we plant not, vice will fill the place ; 
 And rankest Weeds tlie richest soils deface. 
 
 In the earliest ages of which we have written memorials, the 
 vine, was, an object of attention. Even the antediluvians must 
 have been familiar with its culture,, as well as with the process 
 of converting its juice into an intoxicating, beverage. Moses, 
 tl^e first historian of the world, gave hia, countrymen some im- 
 portant directions for perfecting the fruit. The Egyptians as- 
 cribed the nianufactiire of wine to Oyris, one of their principal 
 deities ; and the Grecians ascribed it to Bacchus, whom, for the 
 discovery, they exalted to a place in the Pa,ntl»eon. Pliny, the 
 Roraacu^ilosopher and historian, wrote a particular description 
 of the several varieties of this fruit. In his day, there was a, 
 vine ncar%ie capital of his country, that produced about threp 
 barr^siof pure juice annually. And a curious fact of those 
 times, relating to the subject, has been transmitted. It is this, 
 that young menj under thirty years of age, and women all their 
 lifetime, were prohibited from drinVing wine. T^e peculiarity 
 of this prohibition might puzzle the ingenuity o)^, physiologists 
 and teetotalers. The philosophy of it we refer to^pse gentle- 
 
 meO: ... 
 
 Nor was this domestic regulation of those ancient times, lite 
 many of our laws, a mere form on thei stat;ute-book. Tl^ewife 
 of Ignatius Marennius, on being detected by him in the act of 
 drinking wine, was kitted by him wttlx a billet of wood ; which 
 shows that he must have been a very conscientious, or a very 
 cruel husband. He was indeed tried for murder, but received 
 an acquittal. And Cato records it as the usage of his time, for 
 kinsfolk to kiss their women on accosting them, not as a matter 
 of gallantry, but to ascertain from their breath if they were ob- 
 noxious to this stern penalty. Many other incidents elucidating 
 the manners and the polity of those times might, if we had 
 space at command, be adduced for the instruction and amuse- 
 ment of our readers. 
 
 In our own country but small attention has been paid to the 
 culture of the grape, compared with its importance. There is 
 probably no other fruit so wholesome ; none so palatable ; none 
 
 By forgetfuliiess of injuries we show .OBjrselves superior to thena, 
 
or in contact with him, appears ^ufficieniTy cksir arid lumi- 
 
 HISTORY AND CULTURE <SF GRAPES. 437 
 
 bo 
 
 & 
 
 ■S 
 □ 
 I 
 
 that can be so generally cultivated ; an4 none so remunerating. 
 Its rapidity of grbwth ; its productiveness ; the siniplifeity of its 
 culture ; its long life, may enable every farnJer to share in its 
 behefits ; to live, in the language of Scripture, under his own vine. 
 There is scarcely a farnoer of our whole' land, from Boston to 
 the extreme South, but what might, with a trifling expenditure, 
 produce an abundance of this delicious and nutritious fruit, at 
 least for his own family ; and the time will come wlien thou- 
 saiidb will embark in the culture, as a, source of proiSt, as they 
 now do in the culture of wheat. We cannot fail, in noticing 
 the physiology of the grape-vine, tct feel grateful to the benefi- 
 cence of the Deity, in adapting vegetable organizations of such 
 immense value to man, to so wide an extefit Of temperature. 
 Of this class, especially, is rice, as an aliment for sustaining 
 anihial life, and the fruit of the vine as a matter of luxury aS 
 well as of nutrition. 
 
 Dr. MaccuUoch, in his remarks on the art of making wine, 
 says, that chemical exattiination has proved thkt the young 
 shoots, the tendrils, and the leaves of the vine, possess proper- 
 ties, find contain substances exactly similar to the crude fruit. 
 It was no unnatural coi^clusion that they might equally be used 
 for the purpose of making wine. Experiments were accordingly 
 instituted in France for this purpose,' and they have been re- 
 peated here with success. From vine leaves, waiter, and sugar, 
 wines have been thus produced, in no respect differing from the 
 produce of the immature fruit, and consequently wines of for- 
 eign growth: "t 
 
 Here, then, is a most important advantage resulting ifronl the ; 
 culture of the vine, and one, indeed, that is little inferior to that 
 which is derived from the produce of tlje ripened fruit itself. 
 And in order that it maybe properly estimated, it thust be 
 borne in mind, that throughout the growing season, the super- 
 abundant foliage of k vine, which consists chiefly Of the extrem- 
 ities of the shoots and the tendrils, is so ^reat as to require to 
 be plucked off dtiee in every seven days, if not oftener. It is 
 farther stated by the same author, that four or' five pouAds of 
 these leaves 'will produce i gallon of wine. 
 
 Now, every hundred square feet of the surface of a wall, 
 when covered with the foliage of vines in vigorous growth, will 
 yield on an average, 6very week, from the middle of May to the 
 first of August, two pounds of excess of foliage. Allowing, 
 therefore, the surface of the walls of a common- sized cottage to 
 contain five hundred square feet, ori which vines could be trained, 
 it appears that during the eleven weeks above liientioned, they 
 would yield a s'ufficiettt quantity of foliage to prodiifce upward 
 
 Beauty Witiibnt! exSelledce is like poison ifept to a box of gold. 
 
gusted there, we can at any time descend ; but if we begia 
 
 438 HISTORY AND CULTURE OP GRAPES. 
 
 O 
 
 a 
 
 m 
 
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 •a 
 
 ■s 
 
 3 
 
 of twenty gallons of wine, which could be made for the mere 
 cost of the sugar. Or, if this is not deemed of importance, the 
 excess of foliage, on being thus removed, should be buried in 
 the ground near the root of the vine, for enriching the soil. 
 Whole vineyards, in this way, have for years, without any other 
 manure, been made to yield abundant crops of fruit. If thrown 
 upon the ground, it dries up and is wasted, and other manures 
 must be provided. But if preserved, the vine becomes a self- 
 supporter, yielding an annual supply of its rich and wholesome 
 treasures. 
 
 Dr. R. T. Underbill, of Croton Point, N. Y., has, for several 
 years, been very successfully engaged in the culture of the 
 grape. His vineyards embrace about twenty acres; his crops 
 are abundant ; and the quality of his fruit is of the first grade 
 of excellence. His counsels in this department of rural econ- 
 omy will be found of great value by all engaging in it. Nei- 
 ther in the grape culture, nor other branches of agriculture, is it 
 designed in this work to give the ruralist a system of instruc- 
 tion in his art. Our design is to call forth attention ; to awaken 
 interest ; to impart now and then a few hints on the several 
 subjects presented ; and then to refer the reader to some of 
 those elaborate treatises in possession of the public, for the mi- 
 nute details necessary in the prosecution of agricultural labor. 
 
 In several of the Western States, efforts have been made of 
 late years to derive profit from the cultivation of the vine. Mr. 
 Longworth, of Cincinnati, Ohid, a zealous horticulturist, has 
 one hundred acres under culture, which he rents out to Swiss 
 and German vine- dressers, who have therefrom' an excellent 
 living, and make him a bountiful return. The fruit is manufac- 
 tured into wine, and sold at from seventy-five cents to one dol- 
 lar and fifty per gallon, and the produce of that vicinity is about 
 six hundred barrels. He cultivates the Catawba and other 
 native grapes, which are found to be the most profitable. Many 
 prefer, in high latitudes, the Isabella to all others. 
 
 Mr. Balfour, of Massachusetts, makes the following remarks 
 on the grape culture, which he says, both for the purposes of 
 the table and the manufacture of wine, seems to be on the in- 
 crease. Large quantities of this fine fruit are sold in the mar- 
 kets of our large cities. The grape grows most luxuriantly in 
 Florida and Alabama. But Texas excels all other parts of the 
 Union for producing the grape-vine, where the variety of kinds 
 is large, and the quality of those kinds is superior. TJie grape 
 is beginning to be cultivated in every state of the republic. In 
 the New England States, the Isabella is the most common vari- 
 ety, and is supposed to be a native of North Carolina. It first 
 
 All complain of want of memory, but none of want of judgment. 
 
mere jailer of his house, and the turnkey of his wealth. Im- 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 
 HISTORY AND CULTURE OF GRAPES. 439 
 
 obtained its well-deserved notoriety at Biooklyn, N. Y., in the 
 garden of George Gibbs, Esq., and derived its present name 
 from his lady, Isabella Gibbs, who was instrumental in obtain- 
 ing it from the South — a circumstance which justifies this par- 
 ticular record of its migration. It is said that the original 
 parent of all the Isabella vines in the Northwrn States may now 
 be seen in the garden of the late Zachariah Lewis, on Brooklyn 
 Heights. 
 
 Although we do not propose to enter into the particulars of 
 the grape culture, as already remarked, we will add the mode 
 of its propagation, recommended by Buist ; a modi^ indeed, not 
 approved by some writers ; but, in our opinion, the arguments 
 against it are frivolous. He says. They will all grow assuredly 
 from layers of the preceding year's wood, or even wood of the 
 current year. All that is required is meiely to bend a shoot 
 to the ground, make a hole four inches deep, and place the 
 bend of the shoot in it. Cover it up firmly with the earth; 
 give it frequent waterings in dry weather. In the month of 
 November it will be fit to cut from the parent stock, thence to 
 be removed to any other locality. When it is replanted, cut 
 it down to about two eyes from the ground ; allow one of the 
 eyes only to grow the following season. Tliis mode we have 
 adopted with better success than the more common ones. 
 
 In the vineyard districts of France, Spain, and other vine- 
 growing countries, the medicinal properties of the grape are well 
 known and highly prized. The free use of this fruit, as we are 
 advised, has a most salutary effect upon the animal system, di- 
 luting tlie blood, removing obstructions in tlie liver, kidneys, 
 spleen, and other important oi'gans, giving a healthy tone and 
 vigor to the circulation, and generally augmenting the strength 
 of the entire animal economy. In diseases of the liver, and es- 
 pecially in that monster compound affliction, dyspepsia, the 
 salutary and potent influence of a "grape diet" is well known 
 in France. 
 
 The inhabitants of the vineyard districts are never afflicted 
 with these diseases, which fact, however, alone would not be 
 conclusive evidence of the medicinal qualities of the fruit of 
 which they freely partake, since peasant life is rarely marred 
 with this class of ailments ; but hundreds who are thus afflicted 
 yearly resort to the vineyard districts for tlie sake of what is 
 known as the grape cure, and the result proves to be a cure, 
 except in very long, protracted, and inveterate cases, Vphich are 
 beyond the reach of medicinal remedies. The invigorating influ- 
 ence of the ripe grape, freely eaten, upon the feeble and debil- 
 itated, is very apparent, supplying. vigor and the rosy hue of 
 
 A wise man endeavors to shine in himself; a fool, to outshine others. 
 
and tempests of life she- isnot to be depende J on, because aha 
 
 <!9 
 
 ■a 
 
 «fcH 
 
 % 
 
 440 HISTORY AND CULTURE OF GRAPES. 
 
 health in tbe stead of weakness and pallor, and this by its di- 
 lutiDg property, whicli enables the blood to circulate in the 
 remoter vessels of the skin, which before received only the 
 serous or watery particles. -f 
 
 In these remarks, however, w^ must be understood as speak- 
 ing of the fruit when perfectly ripe. Unripe grapes, like all 
 unripe fruits, are detrimental toheali,h, and derange the digestive 
 organs and those dependent upon and sympathizing with them. 
 
 The following excellent observations on the true use of the 
 vine occur in the account given by Rev. Dr. Duff of his jour- 
 ney through France, while lately passing through that country 
 to India, by way of Alexandria. 
 
 In these countries, mantled with vineyards, one cannot help 
 learhing the true intent and use of the vine in the scheme of 
 Providence. In our own land wine has become so exclusively 
 a mere luxury, pr what is worse, by a species, of manufacture, 
 an intoxicating beverage, that many have wondered how the 
 Bible speakfe of wrae in conjunction with corre, and other such 
 staple supports of minimal life. , Jfow, in passing through the 
 jegion of vineyards, in the East of FraiUce, one must at once 
 perceive that the vine greatly flourishes on slopes and heights, 
 where the soil is too poor and gravelly to maintain cither corn 
 for foodj or pasturage for cattle. But what is the Providential 
 design in rendering this soil — ^favored by a genial atmosphere — 
 so productive of the vine, if its fruit become solely either an 
 article of tuxim/ or an instrument of vice ? The answer is, that 
 Providence had no such design. Look at the peasant and his 
 meals, in vine-bearing districts ! Instead of milk, he has a 
 basin of pute, unadulterated ' blood of the grape.' In this its 
 native origins^l state, it is a plain, simple, ap.d wholesome liquid, 
 which, at every repast, becomes to the husbandman what milk 
 is to the shepherd — ^not a luxury,, but a necessary — not an in- 
 toxicating, but a nutritive beverage, Hence, to the vine-dress- 
 ing peasant of Auxerre, for example, an abundant vintage, as 
 bonnfected with his own immediate sustenance, is as impoirtant 
 as an overflowing dairy to the pastoral peasant of Ayrshire, 
 And hence, by such a view of the subject, are the language and 
 ihe sense of the Scripture vindicated fj'om the very appearance 
 of favoring what is merely! luxurious or positively noxious, 
 when it so constantly magnifies a well-replenished wine-press, in 
 a rocky, mountainons; country like that of Palestine, as one of 
 the richest bounties of a generous Providence. 
 
 Wine cheers the sad( revives the old, Inspires 
 The young, makes ■weariness forget her toil, 
 And fear Lev danger : opens a new world 
 When this, the present, falls. 
 
 Ad Sp!e Poem relates a lohg history of some great ereni. 
 
a, 
 13 
 
 he found her a shadow and a name. But no man can purchase 
 
 CULTIVATION OF THE PEA. 
 
 Could ■vcealtli our happiness augment? 
 What can she give beyond content ? 
 
 The native country of the pea is not known, but it is com- 
 monjy supposed that it came from the South of Europe. It 
 has been cultivated from remote antiquity, and is now univer- 
 sally diffused, and forms one of the most vwluable culinary 
 plants. It is an annual, and belongs to the leguminous family. 
 The varieties which have been-.produced by cultivation have 
 been very numerous, and differ in the color of their flowers, their 
 number, and that of the iseeds,^ the time of ripening, and in stat- 
 ure, some being low plants of a few inches, and others attaining 
 the height of ten or twelve feet. 
 
 Peas are considered an agreeable and nourishing food, having 
 Hie character of purifying the blood and correcting scorbutic 
 humors. In flavor and quality, there is as great a difference as 
 iu any other. vegetable .with which we are acquainted, although, 
 from observation) cultivators, and even cooks, have little knowl^ 
 edge of the quality and flavor of the different varieties in culti- 
 vation. Some, when merely plain boiled and seasoned, are of 
 themselves a luxuiy; others require more assistance from the 
 culinary art to render them particularly palatable. The earlier 
 sorts requi?'e for boiling from half to three quarters of an hour ; 
 the mariow-fats, from fifteen to twenty minutes, according to 
 age. If cooked immediately after being picked and shelled, 
 th«jy are much more, acceptable to the taste, than when sufl'ered 
 tq remain a long time. 
 
 Gieen peas are among the earliest products of the garden, and 
 a succession of them may be kept -up through the season by 
 sowing at different timesi If farmers, for their own consump- 
 tion especially, paid more attention to this particular) they would 
 contribute much to the gratification of the palate, as well as to 
 their pecuniary interest. ^ To perform well the labors of the 
 farm in tlie season of summer, there must be an ample supply 
 of nourishing and relishable foodi The forrder attribute is in- 
 dispensable to sustain the physical vigor inlthe perfoi-mance of 
 them ; and the latter is no less desirable, in periods of excessive 
 exhaustion and languor, t-o counteract any deficiency of appetite. 
 A good dish of fresh pefts,. with iriferior; meat, or no meat at all, 
 
 Ab jorptioD is the. conversion of a gaseous fluid into a liquid or sotid. 
 
 3.' 
 
with the dignity of a philoaopher, " Whetlier my dis- 
 
 442 CULTIVATION OF THE PEA. 
 
 .3 
 
 I 
 
 and with inferior bread, will make laborers better satisfied witb 
 tlieir dinner, than with other things as a substitute, costing four 
 limes as much. Besides, at this period of the year it is no easy 
 matter to provide substitutes, A quarter of an acre, or even 
 an eighth part of an acre of land, made rich, and well covered 
 with peas to be used green, will, for two months, give a good- 
 sized family half of their living. 
 
 Early hoeing, in the case of this plant, should never be neg- 
 lected. The eflect i^ not only to repress the growth of weeds 
 until the plant shall have acquired sufficient strength, but, as 
 in all cases of tilling the ground about the stems, to give in- 
 creased vigor to the growth of the plants. From the manner of 
 the growth of the pea, and from its stems quickly stretching 
 over the intervals of the rows, the process of tlie hoeing should 
 be begun early, and assiduously prosecuted. After the first 
 crop of weeds is destroyed, the plants themselves will grow and 
 stifle all that may spring up during the subsequent period of 
 their growth. 
 
 If peas are to be cultivated in the field, they are usually 
 sown broad-cast. In this case, they should be scattered much 
 thicker than farmers commonly sow them, and be ploughed in. 
 There is but very little danger of burying them too deep ; it is 
 said they will vegetate if buried a foot deep. Peas sown thin 
 are very apt to fall down, and if the Season be wet, they will 
 rot on the ground ; but if they are sowed thickly they will 
 cling together and support each other, and yield much better, 
 by having more benefit of the sun and air. 
 
 In some places, the pea in its ripe state, as well as when 
 green, is used for human food. It may even be ground into 
 meal, and made into bread ; which, however, though nutritious, 
 is coarse and unpalatable. But the meal of the pea may be 
 mixed to a considerable extent With the flour of wheat, without 
 sensibly impairing the qualities of the latter. It is made, also, 
 into bread, with the flour and meal of barley. However, the 
 more common application of the ripe pea in domestic economy, 
 is for soups and puddings. For the former purpose, especially, 
 no one, we should imagine, can fail to relish it. For these uses 
 the consumption of peas in England is very great. 
 
 Peas are also much used in England as the food of horses, 
 and for that purpose they are generally mixed with oats. They 
 form a nutritious food, and should be given when dry, and ia 
 all oases bruised. They are also employed for the feeding of 
 hogs, and thev form a nutritive and fattening food. In this 
 respect they are held to be superior to beans. The meal, too,; 
 as well as that of beans, is made into a thick gruel, which, given 
 
 Sensible men show their sense by spying much in few worda. 
 
Oaze Dot on the marks or lilemishee uf others, and 
 
 & 
 
 CULTIVATION OF THE PEA. 443 
 
 with milk, forms ;m excellent food for calves, after they have 
 been fed for some time on milk. 
 
 Many people are much afHicted with buggy peas, especially 
 on old lands. This is occasioned by a small brown bug that 
 deposits its eggs or larva in the young pods. The only effect- 
 ual remedy against this, that we know of, is to sow the peas 
 late ; so that they will not blossom till ilie period of depositing 
 the larva is past. For this purpose, they should not be sown 
 before the 10th of June. A very n'spectable farmer in Rensse- 
 laer County, New York, followed this practice for six years in 
 succession, and never found a bug in his peas ; while his neigh- 
 bors, who sowed earlier, had their peas filled with bugs. If 
 your seed peas contain bugs, it is recommended to scald them, 
 by putting them into a tub or pail, and pouring in enough boil- 
 ing water to cover them, and stirring them briskly about a min- 
 ute ; then pour off the water, and add a little cold water to 
 them, and sow them soon afterward. This will destroy the 
 bugs without injuring the peas ; and, in fact, they will vegetate 
 the sooner. But if your peas are buggy, your ground will re- 
 quire more seed; because, when the chit of the pea is destroyed 
 by the bug in it, the pea will not come up. 
 
 It may be mentioned as a curiosity in the physiology of the 
 pea, that Mr. Grimstone, England, has succeeded in rearing 
 peas from an Egyptian pea, found in a vase in a mummy-tomb, 
 probably three thousand years old ! He says of it, This pea 
 stems right and left, the mother stems being strong, so that I 
 should imagine them capable of standing without the use of 
 sticks. This pea is in height about three feet, being fourteen 
 inches from left to right ; its tendrils are wiry, and of sufficient 
 strength to keep each other in a standing position when planted 
 in high rows. Its principle in bearing is curious, having its pod 
 only on one side, so that it appears something like a grape-vine 
 in miniature. 
 
 Nature makes her happy home with man, 
 Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed. 
 With its own rill, on its own spangled bed. 
 
 Injure not the credit of others in endeavoring to establish your own. 
 
present. Ppeak not -when others speafc, sit not when Others stand, 
 
 •s 
 
 r 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 
 HISTOEY, CULTURE. AND USE OF BEANS, 
 
 I sigh not for beauty, nor languish for Trealth, 
 But grant me, kind Providence ! virtue and health ; 
 Then, richer than kings, and nxjre happy .than they, 
 My {lays stall pass sweetly and swiftly away. 
 
 Thb! bean, or vetch, is a wdl-known vegetable of the pulse 
 species, largely cultivated both in gardens and fields. It be- 
 longs to the leguminous family, and often supports itself on sur- 
 rounding objects, by means of its tendrils, with which theii" 
 leaves are terminated. The habits of the bean much i-esenflble 
 those of the pea. Its cultivation is of much itnportanoe ill. 4'ti- 
 ral economy ; both to the farmed as furnishing him with a valu- 
 able food for horses, swine, and other stock ; and the superior 
 varieties as human food. ' ' 
 
 The flowers of beans are disposed in clusters, and emit a most 
 agreeable perfume. Of all the piilse kind, this wais held in the 
 first ranks in ancient times. We find the Athenians used boiled 
 beans in their feasts dedicated to Apollo ; and thfe Romans pre- 
 sented beans as an oblatioti in their solemn sacrifices called 
 Fabria. Pliny infoi-raS us, that they offered cakes made of 'bean 
 meal unto certain gods and' goddesses in these ancient rites and 
 ceremonies. One of the most noble and powerful families of 
 Rome derived the name of 'Fabii from 'some of their ancestors 
 having cnftivated tlie bean called Faba. The tneal of bean^ is 
 the ho:avi(Jst of all made from pulse, and was called in Latin, 
 lomentum. This was mingled with frumeniii, corn, whole, and 
 so eaten by the ancients ; but they sometimes bruised it first. 
 It was considered a stl'oH^ food; and was genehilly eaten with 
 gruel or pottagfe:' 
 
 Many superstitious customs and notions were, in olden tim«s, 
 attached to tbis pulse. The ancients mad« use of beans in 
 gathering the votes of the people, and for electing the magis- 
 trates. A white bean signifies absolution, and a black one, con- 
 demnation. From this practice, no doubt, was derived the plan 
 of black-balling, as it is called, obnoxious persons. The Roman 
 husbfJhdmen lj|d a religious ceremony respecting this pulse, 
 somewhat remarkable. When they sowed corn of any kind, 
 they took care to bring some beans from the field, as an indica- 
 
 Seryjceaiind kindnesses, neglected,, malse, friendship suspected. 
 
alone tban »(» bad company. Andibe not forward; but friendly 
 
 HISTORY, CULTUiBE, AND USE OF BEANS. 445 
 
 I 
 
 Ik. 
 .•a 
 
 ^on.of gOQd luck, superstitiously thinking that by such^means 
 their corn would return borne again to them. The Romans car- 
 ried their superstitions on this subject even farther ; for Ihey 
 thought that beans mixed with good* offered for sale would 
 infallibly bring good luck to the seller. 
 
 In some places bean meal is still mixed with other meal in 
 making coarse bread ; or the beans, are boiled into a mess with 
 fat meat, usually pork that has been thoroughly salted, in which 
 state they are very nutritious. Bean meal given to oxen, soon 
 makes them fat ; mixed with water, and given as a drink to 
 cows, it greatly increases their milk/ 
 
 The bean came originally from the East, and was cultivated 
 in Egypt and ^ Barbary, in the earliest ages of which we have 
 any records. ; It spread thence, into Spain and Portugal ; thence 
 some of the best varieties were introduced into England, and 
 then again into our own country. Experience is the best guide 
 in selecting varieties for seed or for consumption. The small, 
 round, regular-shaped white, are usually preferred for field 
 culture, especially if to be used in kitchen economy. These 
 sell, in large towns at better prices, also. All the varieties thrive 
 best on strong, clay soils, heavy marls, and deep loams of a moist 
 description. In sufih soils the produce is from thirty to sixty 
 bushels per acre ; but oftener less. However, we have one Case 
 before us, of a small field in Sussex Countyi England, having 
 been sown broad-cast with the small tick-bean ; and the product 
 was at the rate of sixty-eight bushels to the acre. This was on 
 very rich laud. 
 
 The lamented , Judge Buel, of Albany, has given the follow- 
 ing noitices of some experiments in the field culture of this ve^.- 
 etable, which may be of use to our readers. He consideved.it 
 a valuable crop i and, with good care, is as profitable as a 
 wheat w-op. It leaves the soil in good tilth, He preferred the 
 China bean, with a red eye. It ripens early, and is very pro- 
 ductive. He cultivated beans in three different ways : in hills 
 — in drills — and: sowed broad^oast. The first is a process too 
 well known to need description: He had an acie in drills, 
 which was the best crop he ever saw. His management was 
 this: on an acre of light gi-ound, where the clover had been 
 frozen out the precedmg winter, eight loads of long manure 
 were spread, and the ground was immediately ploughed .^nd 
 harrowed. Drills or furrows were then made with a light 
 plough, at the distance of two and a half feet from each other, 
 and the beans thrown along the furrows, about the 25th of 
 May, by the hand, at the rate of at least a bushel on the acre. 
 He then gauged a double-mould board plough, which was passed 
 
 Suspicion is no less an enemy ti^ Tir,tuc( than to happiness. 
 
subjects among the ignorant, or things hard to be believ- 
 
 446 HISTORY, CULTURE, AND USE OP BEANS. 
 
 g 
 ■3 
 
 once l^tween the rows, and was followed by a light one-horse 
 roller, which flattened the ridges. The crop was twice cleaned 
 of weeds by the hoe, but not earthed. The product was more 
 than forty-eight bushels, by actual measurement. The beans 
 were sold at one dollar per bushel. The third experiment was 
 upon a piece of ground where the clover had been killed out. 
 It was ploughed about the 1st of June, the seed sown like peas, 
 upon the first furrow, and harrowed in. The drought kept 
 them back ; but about sixty rods of ground, on which the ex- 
 periment was made, gave a product of twelve and a half bush- 
 els. The crop was too ripe when it was harvested, and as it 
 was cut with a scythe, it was supposed about two bushels and 
 a half were left upon the ground. No labor was bestowed upon 
 them from the time they were sown till they were harvested. 
 
 Bean straw is usually considered to be very nutritious, espe- 
 cially when it has not suffered from the effects of unfavorable 
 weather. This, however, depends very much upon the period 
 at which the crop is cut, while the haulm is yet green, or later 
 in the season. If cut when green, and well cured, it is esteem- 
 ed equal to the best hay. Beans might be cultivated, and 
 when full grown, but before the leaves or stems are seared, cut 
 and given to cows for summer feed. This has been' done with 
 the best results. A large amount of herbage will be obtained 
 in proportion to the quantity of land cultivated, and the highly 
 nutritious properties will increase the milk in a most desirable 
 Tnanner. The green fruit will possess a due proportion of those 
 qualities for which it is noted when fully matured. 
 
 For early family Use, beans should be sowed abundantly in 
 the garden. The best varieties should be selected. They are 
 too well known to be described. Families cannot well have too 
 many of them. If it is found that the yield is beyond the 
 wants of the family, give them to the cows. You will never 
 repent of it. 
 
 Man's rich with little, were his judgment true ; 
 Kature ia fi'ugal, and her wants are few. 
 
 Pursue in health that conduct which you promise in sickness. 
 
1*. 
 
 Always think before you speak ; pronounce not 
 
 ESSENTIALS TO PRODUCTIVE FARMING. 
 
 ThS! following fifteen essentials for productive farming are 
 from the pen of the editor of the American Farmer, which is, 
 we believe, the oldest agricultural paper in the United States. 
 
 1. Good implements of husbandry, and plenty of them, 
 which should always be kept in perfect order. 
 
 2. Beep ploughing and thorough pulverization of the soil, by 
 the free use of the harrow, drag, and roller. ^ 
 
 3. An application of lime, marl, or ashes, where calcareous 
 matter or potash may not be present in the soil. 
 
 4. A systematic husbanding of every substance on a farm 
 capable of being converted into manure, as systematic a protec- 
 tion of such substances from loss by evapor^^tion or waste of 
 any kind, and a careful application of the same to the lands in 
 culture. 
 
 6. The draining of all wet lands, so as to relieve the roots of 
 the plants from the ill effects of a superabundance of water, a 
 condition equally pernicious as drought to their healthful growth 
 and profitable fructification. 
 
 6. The free use of the plough, cultivator, and hoe, with all 
 row-cultured crops, so as to keep down, at all times, the growth 
 of grass and weeds, those pests which prove so destructive to 
 crops. 
 
 7. Seedmg at the proper time, with good seed, and an equal 
 attention as to time, with regard to the period of working crops. 
 
 8. Attention to the construction and repair of fences, so that 
 what is made through the toils and anxious cares of the hus- 
 bandman, may not be lost through his neglect to protect his 
 crops from the depredations of stock. 
 
 9 Daily personal superintendence, on the part of the master, 
 over all the operations of the farm, no matter how good a man- 
 ager he may have, or however faithful his hahds may be, as the 
 presence of the liead of a farm, and the use of his eyeS, are 
 worth several pairs of hands. 
 
 10. Labor-saving machinery, so that one piay render himself 
 as independent as needful of neighborhood labor, as a sense of 
 the comparative independence of the employer upon such labor 
 begets a disposition of obedience and faithfulness on the part 
 of the employed. 
 
 11. Comfortable stabling and sheds, for the horses and stock, 
 all necessary outbuildings, for the accommodation of the hands. 
 
 Popular pleasure is like a bubble — it is blown up, and soon bursts. 
 
own business, that they may have time tc finish 
 
 448 CULTURE OF BROOM-CORN. 
 
 and proteotion of the tools and implements, as ■well as for the 
 care of tlie poultry. 
 
 12. Olover and other grasses to form a part of the rotation 
 of crops, and tliese to be at the proper periods- ploughed in, to 
 form pabulum for succeeding crops. 
 
 1.3. The clover {ie]d to be either plastered or ashed, each suc- 
 ceeding spring — one bushel of the fbrnier, and six of the latteK, 
 per aci'e. , , ., 
 
 14. To keep no more stoclt than can be well kept, hut, to he 
 Sure to keep as many as tlie/arm can keep in good condition, as 
 it is wise policy to feed as much as possible of the crops grpwn 
 oTl the farm, and thus return to it that which has been abstract- 
 edl'rom it. , . 
 
 15. To provide a good orchard and ffarden~—ih& one to be 
 filled with choice fruits of all kinds — the other with vegetables of 
 
 : different, sorts, early and late, so that the table may, fit alltimes, 
 be well and seasonably supplied, and the surplus contribute to 
 increase the wealth of the proprietor. 
 
 CULTURE OF BROOM-CORN, 
 
 When wealth to virtuous hands is giv'iii 
 It blesses like the dews of heaven ; 
 Like heav'n it hftafs the orphan's crfes, 
 And wipes the tears from lyido^s' cyeS. 
 
 The braOm'Corn has a jointed stem like a reed, or like the 
 stem of Indian corn, and grows to the height of eight or ten 
 feet. On the top is a head of fine brush, Tyhich is made into 
 brooms. It is cultivated ini the iifalley of th§ Connecticut Eiver, 
 in the valley of the Mohawk, and in iheStates of Ohio, Illinois, 
 Missouri, Wigconsin> and New Jersey. In rnost of those local- 
 ities the frost sometimes injui^es the^ plant. Farther south the 
 culture I would be more certain, and of course more profitable*; 
 ;Th& brooms are particularly valua^bl^for sweeping carpets. 
 i The best soil, says a correspondent of the Agriculturist, for 
 iraising broom-corn, is similar, to that required for Indian corn, 
 or maize. It should be rich, warm, loaqiy land, not Uablo to 
 
 f 
 
 ^ 
 
 One day of domestic felicity is worth a year of public gayety. 
 
mate use of coarser iastruments. To sentence a man of true 
 
 CULTURE OF BROOM-CORN. 449 
 
 s 
 
 m 
 
 ai 
 
 1 
 S 
 
 m 
 
 '% 
 
 early or late frosts. Spring frosts injure broom -corn move than 
 maize, as the roots do not strike so deep, nor has it the power 
 of recovering from the effects of frost equal to the latter. The 
 best crops are usually raised on a greensward, turned over as 
 late as possible in the fall, so as to kill all the worms. Clay 
 lands are not suitable for it. 
 
 On the Northampton Meadows, being a section of the valley 
 of the Connecticut River in Massachusetts, 1500 acres of 
 broom-corn are frequently cultivated, producing brush and seed 
 to the amount of $60,000 to $80,000. In some seasons the 
 crop has been worth |100,000. The portions of Ohio in which 
 it is raised are principally the valley of the Scioto and Miami 
 Rivers. Much of the broom-corn raised at the West has been 
 shipped to London or Liverpool. Handles for the brooms have 
 also been shipped ; but as the twine and wire can be had so 
 much cheaper there than in this country, the brooms in this 
 way can be afforded lower in that market, than though manu- 
 factured complete where the brush is raised. These American 
 brooms are much admired on the other side of the Atlantic. 
 They have nothing there like or equal to them. 
 
 Broom-corn is not as exhausting a crop as Indian corn, unless 
 the seed matures, and then it affords a full equivalent for the 
 exhaustion. At six cents per pound, the former is as profitable 
 to raise as the latter at one dollar per bushel. The average 
 yield is about five hundred pounds of brush per acre ; but it 
 varies from three hundred to five hundred pounds. The pHce 
 also varies materially, ranging from three to sixteen cents per 
 pound ; the last is very unusual, unless it be in seasons of ex- 
 treme scarcity. 
 
 A good crop of seed is obtained in the valley of the Connec- 
 ticut about two years out of five. When well matured, the 
 seed will average from three to five pounds to every pound of 
 the brush. A single acre has been known to produce one hun- 
 dred and fifty bushels of Seed, though usually less than one- 
 third of that quantity — or even less than one-fourth — is a fair 
 crop. It weighs about fifty pounds to the bushel, and usually 
 is soid at about thirty cents the bushel. It is too heating for 
 horses, but is valuable for other stock, especially when ground 
 It has been stated that for sheep and swine, it is nearly of equal 
 value to oats ; others place a lower estimate on its value. _ 
 
 The New Jersey broom-corn is the best variety. It ordma- 
 rily yields one thousand pounds to the acre, with a fair propor- 
 tion of seed. That which grows upon the Hudson River pro- 
 duces only about three-fourths as much. What is called the 
 Pine variety is earliest, but small and thin. There may be other 
 
 Our actions are in our own power ; our destiny in that of Providence. 
 29 
 
arrogant and aonseqtiential to feel for the condition 
 
 450 CULTURE OP BROOM-CORN. 
 
 varieties of which we have no written accounts ; and our per- 
 sonal knowledge of the culture is very limited. 
 
 The brooiB-com culture has been very profitable in the East- 
 ern States. It was attended with a double advantage, as it 
 furnished the neighborhood with a profitable winter's work in 
 manufacturing the brooms. But the vast quantities of rich land 
 in the Western States will enable those who cultivate it to un- 
 dersell their brethren at the East, in all the great agricultural 
 staples of the country, except to supply domestic consumption. 
 Let the facilities for sending those staples from the valleys of 
 the numerous rivers beyond the AUeghanjes to the Atlantic 
 marts be still farther increased — and they will most undoubt- 
 edly be, with a corresponding reduction of freights^^and how 
 will it be possible that the farmers of New England and the 
 Middle States can raise and sell corn, wheat, and some other 
 articles, for prices at which they can be afforded by their great 
 competitors ? Not, indeed, that great portions of the Atlantic 
 States are to be ruined and depopulated by this competition. 
 By no means ! There is too much versatility of talent and en- 
 terprise in the American character for such a result. If we 
 cannot do one thing, no time is lost in sullen despondency ; we 
 resolve to do something else } and no sooner is the resolution 
 formed, than fresh energies are brought into action ; new de- 
 partments of labor are instituted ; new mines of wealth are 
 opened. 
 
 What has already been manifested relating to the subject in 
 some other branches of rural economy, will soon be experienced 
 in regard to the production of broom-Corn. The beginning of 
 the end is already seen. This very article may now be sent a 
 thousand or fifteen hundred miles to the great cities of the At- 
 lantic shores, cheaper than it can be produced in its former 
 localities ; so that, as an article of merchandise, the new produ- 
 cers will, in effect, have no competitors. However, the former 
 localities of its production will continue to supply their own im- 
 mediate neighbors with it ; and as the article raised at the West 
 is inferior to that raised at the East — the brush being coarser 
 and more brittle — the latter *ill still have a few favorites, not- 
 withstanding the greater price demanded for it. Nor is it cer- 
 tain that, considering the difference in the quality of the two 
 articles, the object obtained at the lowest price will be found 
 the cheapest or most economical. 
 
 It has been recommended that broom-corn seed be sown for 
 still another purpose. The suggestion is a plausible one. With 
 the increase of population in large cities, the consumption 0/ 
 milk and fresh butter in summer will be increased. And when 
 
 Long hiopes wear out joys, as long maladies wear out grief. 
 
■wtieh she has none. The storm may elrip the mountain' 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF HOPS. 
 
 461 
 
 a prime article of milk can be had freely for about twelve cents 
 per gallon, the free use of it will be less confined to the higher 
 classes ; and with the lower classes it may become an econom- 
 ical article of ordinary food, especially for children. Hence, it 
 is constantly becoming more desirable and important to provide 
 cows with a cheap, nutritious, and milk-producing food. Indian 
 corn has been sown broad-cast or in drills, and cut down green 
 for this purpose. It has been said that broom-corn answers a 
 better purpose. The ground is to be made tolerably rich j the 
 seed is to be sown thick ; when the plant is about five feet high, 
 it is to be cut ; and the quantity is greater, and the quality bet- 
 ter, than maize cultivated for the same end. 
 
 The wise man doth inure his son 
 To tasks which must be borne or done ; 
 And this with wisdom doth accord : 
 For sure the earthly parent's plan 
 Is thus to make his son a man. 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OF HOPS. 
 
 Lo ! on auxiliary poles, the hops, 
 Ascending spiral, ranged in meet array. 
 
 This kind of produce has become an object of almost primary 
 necessity. Its sale may always be regarded as certain, and the 
 price which it fetches is sufficient to pay the interest on any sum 
 that may have been expended in its cultivation. The culture 
 of the hop ought, therefore, to engage the attention of every 
 farmer who is able to advance the necessary capital, and has 
 brought his system of rural economy to such a degree of per- 
 fection as to furnish him with the very large quantity of ma- 
 nure which this plant requires. 
 
 Hops are cultivated for the flower, which gives flavor and 
 permanence to beer, by being boiled with the wort in brewing. 
 These flowers impart a pleasant, bitter, and aromatic flavor, and 
 prevent the too rapid progress of fermentation. Beer which is. 
 well hopped will keep long, and become very fine, without any 
 of those artificial means of fining which make the common 
 
 s- 
 
 m 
 3 
 
 i 
 
 B 
 
 O 
 
 I 
 B' 
 
 S 
 B 
 v 
 
 i" 
 
 (D 
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 P 
 
 B 
 a 
 
 m 
 
 Let nothing be lost that it is possible to find by dih'gent search. 
 
a worse bargaia eyen than the hypocrite, for the hypocrite 
 
 452 THE CULTIVATION OF HOPS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 a 
 
 .3 
 
 r 
 p4 
 
 brewer's beer so mucb inferior in quality to that which is made 
 iu families from this article. 
 
 Persons who have paid no attention to the subject of hop 
 culture, have no idea of its importance as a branch of rural 
 economy, or of commerce. About fifty-two thousand acres of 
 land in Great Britain are appropriated to this object. Even the 
 duty on the article in that country for the year 1846 amounted 
 to nearly five hundred thousand pounds sterling, the quantity 
 pf hops on which it was charged amounting to over 50,000,000 
 lbs. The crop of hops in the United States for several years 
 past has been estimated at about 10,000 bales ; six-tenths of 
 which are exported, and the balance used for home consump- 
 tion. The price varies in different years, according to the de- 
 mand and the supply. The average price may be given at 
 twelve cents the pound. 
 
 The soils best adapted to the cultivation of the hop are clayey 
 sands and sandy clays, provided they are in a proper state of 
 fertility at the time of planting, and are afterward supplied 
 with the quantity of manure required for continuing and in- 
 creasing their fertility. On most argillaceous and heavy soils, 
 the success of the plant is more precarious ; but on the other 
 hand, its produce is greater when it does succeed. Where the 
 lower strata of land are mixed with calcareous stones, but the 
 vegetable stratum is of considerable thickness, the hop is sure 
 to thrive well. Fertile soils, which have been long used as 
 grass lands, kitchen gardens, or orchards, and have always been 
 plentifully dunged, are the best that can be chosen for the 
 formation of hop-grounds. 
 
 The best way to obtain roots for planting is, as soon as the 
 spring opens, to plough within a foot of the hill, on each of its 
 four sides, then with a hoe lay bare the roots, and select only 
 those of the last year's growth, cutting them off about eighteen 
 inches long. These are what are called trimmings, and are ne- 
 cessary to be taken from the old hop roots every year, whether 
 required for new plantings or not. As these trimmings may not 
 be wanted for several weeks after being cut, for planting the new 
 hop-field, they can be kept by burying them in a heap in the 
 ground, or by placing thera in a cellar. In the planting of them, 
 they should be in rows about six feet apart, crossing each other 
 at right angles, by which means the plough may be passed cor- 
 respondingly between the rows, and thus perform much of the 
 labor of cultivation. In each hill there is to be a pole placed 
 perpendicularly in the ground, around which the young vines 
 will entwine themselves. If any fail to do it, they should be 
 tied to the pole with a string. 
 
 Knavery may conduce to present advantage, but honesty is best in the end 
 
,s 
 
 far more convenient to adulterate the truth, than to 
 
 THE CULTIVATION OP HOPS. 453 
 
 The season for picking hops is usually a time for merriment in 
 a rural population. It must be done in fine, pleasant weather ; 
 and the work being very light, it is made an occasion for frolic 
 ot both sexes ; the picking being done mostly by the females, 
 and the moving of the boxes or baskets in which they are de- 
 posited, from place to place, as convenience may require, by the 
 males. To the labors of the day the evening may succeed, ren- 
 dered cheerful and blithesome by tales and songs of love, and by 
 coy smiles and glances, and the whirling dance. There are in 
 such exhibitions a simplicity, a directness of effect, and a sincer- 
 ity, not often found amidst the conventional formalities of city life. 
 In the one, all is the spontaneous gushing of youthful affection, 
 as fresh from the fountain of the heart, as the crystal water 
 which bubbles up from the hidden fountain, delighting the eye 
 of the beholder with its limpid purity. If happy matches, ac- 
 cording to the lyric didactics of Dr. Watts, are indeed made in 
 heaven, here are the legitimate revelations that lead to their 
 developments. And why should not such conjunctions be indeed 
 happy? Why should noxious poisons ever afterward rise to 
 defile the bliss of kindred spirits, rendered one by pledges and 
 seals of mutual love ? There is nothing sordid — there is nothing 
 of ambition — there is nothing of family or State policy that be- 
 comes an element in their union. 
 
 Not so is it in other spheres of life. It too often happens 
 there, that love is the mere appendage of matrimonial sanctity, 
 and not the pure ethereal essence which leads to it. Before the 
 consecrated flame that flickers in the youthful bosom can be al- 
 lowed to manifest itself, the ledgers of merchants and the stock 
 books of bankers must be ransacked and collated ; family caste 
 must be graduated with the accuracy of the swelling mercury of 
 the thermometer ; so that all the chances for family equipage 
 and family elevation may be fully seen, in the perspective ; — 
 then, indeed, and not till then, the incense of this flame may be- 
 come a hallowed odor ! To pride, to ambition, to a despotism 
 over the soul more hateful than the chains of barbaric slavery, 
 everything that is holy, everything, that is heavenly, is made a 
 wanton sacrifice. Hence, the withering desolation that so often 
 enters the mansions of the rich and the fashionable. Hence, it 
 so often happens now-a-days that households are broken up ; 
 that children are, as it were, made parentless ; wives made wid- 
 ows, and husbands bleak monuments of pity or of scorn ! though 
 the cold mantle of the grave has been spread over no one of 
 their inmates. 
 
 This is an extemporaneous digression in discussing the physi- 
 ology of this plant, we admit, for the hop is rather distinguished 
 
 ^ 
 ■? 
 ^ 
 
 He wbo makes an idol of his interest, makes a martyr of his integrity. 
 
in controTerej, paxtisEms in politics, and empirics in sci- 
 
 454 CULTURE AND USE OF THE POTATO. 
 
 for its narcotic than its exhilarating qualities. However, we 
 trust we shall be excuse(}, having thus been led inadvertently to 
 a topic with which, ordinarily, human sympathies are in qlose 
 alliance, and to which human passions are always wont to yield 
 a prompt acquiescence. 
 
 To him who in the love of Nature holds 
 Commnnion with visible forms, she speaks 
 A various language ; for his gayer hours 
 She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
 And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
 Into her darker musings, with a mild 
 And gentle sympathy, that steals away 
 Their sharpness, ere he is aware. 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF THE POTATO. 
 
 Thanks to my humble nature, while I've limbs, 
 
 Tastes, senses, I'm determined to be rich ; 
 
 So long as that fine alchymist, the sun, 
 
 Can transmute into gold whate'er I like 
 
 On earth, in air, or water ! while a banquet 
 
 Is spread before me. in a hall 
 
 Of heaven's own building, perfumed with the breath 
 
 Of Nature's self, and ringing to the sounds 
 
 Of her own choristers. 
 
 We are indebted to South America for this invaluable root, 
 where it grows wild, and where it was cultivated long before it 
 was made known in Europe. Clusius is the first European wri- 
 ter who mentions it, about the year 1588, and from this period 
 it spread into different parts of the Eastern Continent with 
 greater or less rapidity. The potato has been cultivated in Sua- 
 bia and Alsace only since 1720, and did not reach Switzerland 
 till 1730. Almost everywhere its introduction met with great 
 opposition. The French especially were excessively prejudiced 
 on the subject ; and it was not till a time of scarcity, during the 
 revolution, had fastened it upon them, that its culture became 
 general. The potato has probably added millions to the popu- 
 
 Honest men are usually bound, but you can seldom bind a knave. 
 
Then, tow few bargams would be made at the Ex- 
 
 a 
 .9 
 
 u 
 
 .2 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF THE POTATO. 455 
 
 lation of Europe ; and for a long succession of years rendered 
 Unknown those distressing famines, which had previously been- 
 so frequent. 
 
 In addition to the usual culinary uses of potatoes, brtead may 
 be made by mixing with them a nearly equal portion of wheat 
 flour ; and also a kind of cheese, by reducing them to the 
 consistence of paste, adding an equal quantity of curd, and, 
 with a little salt, and some other ingredients, mixing the whole 
 t(^ether, and forming it into moulds. Alcohol is very exten- 
 sively distilled from potatoes in some parts of Europe. Starch 
 may be made by the simple process of scraping them in water, 
 and well washing the pulp, when the starch settles to the bot- 
 tom in a heavy and dense sediment. This starch is not only used 
 for the same purposes as that prepared from wheat, but also as 
 a size, which does not putrify, like that produced from animal 
 substances, and has no disagreeable smell. Yeast may also be 
 prepared from the pojtato, and even the seed-vessels may be 
 made into a pickle. 
 
 As food for all cattle of the farm — horses, cows, pigs, and 
 likewise for poultry — potatoes are all but invaluable. Every 
 creature appears to relish them, particularly when they are 
 steamed or carefully boiled. Previous to the appearance of the 
 rot, and now where that malady does hot injure the crop, pota- 
 toes are the most profitable article the farmer can raise. The 
 manure used may be of the coarsest kind, and still an amount 
 of fruit is yielded almost incredibly large. A few of these cases 
 may be stated, which will at least show the capabilities of the 
 plant under circumstances the most favorable. Mr. Knight, the 
 president of the English Horticultural Society, a few years since, 
 obtained from an outside row a produce equivalent to more than 
 fifty-eight tons per acre. He says, that single rows and outside 
 rows are usually more prolific than the interior rows of a plot, 
 garden, or field. This depends on a variety of circumstances, 
 the chief of which is, the more perfect exposure of the foliage to 
 the agency of the air and the light. 
 
 The Banflf Journal, published near Aberdeen, in Scotland, 
 mentions that a gentleman in Banff, in the spring of 1848, re- 
 ceived a quantity of potatoes fr(jm Kotterdam. He took a small 
 parcel, and planted them in his garden. The plants very soon 
 appeared, and through the summer continued to grow most lux- 
 uriantly, so that all who saw them predicted that there would 
 be nothing but a thicket of stems and leaves. The prediction, 
 however, was not verified ; for when the crop was dug, there 
 were gathered from the ground, which was leoth part of an 
 acre, four bushels and a half; being equal to 720 bushels to the 
 
 Forfeiture of reputation usually follows want of faith. 
 
by tha same path. Anticipation is her herald, but disap- 
 
 456 CULTURE AND USE OF THE POTATO. 
 
 a 
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 i 
 
 t 
 
 a 
 
 s 
 
 ffi 
 
 p. 
 J 
 
 H 
 
 acre. At several of the stems upward of forty potatoes were 
 found; one had sixty-three full-grown potatoes, and on another 
 were counted the very extraordinary number of one hundred 
 and ten. They were entirely free from disease. Mr. Tfaacher 
 Clark, another Scotch gentleman, has raised from a small plot a 
 crop which was equal to 960 bushels to the acre. And'one of 
 our own countrymen, a few years since. Col. Griggs, of Brighton, 
 Mass., dug from one acre of land 800 bushels of fine English 
 whites, some of which weighed twenty ounces, and all of an ex- 
 cellent quality. The common field crop does not rise above 
 200 bushels to the acre, and oftener below that. 
 
 We say nothing in regard to the mode of cultivating the po- 
 tato, for we presume that this is a matter with which all are 
 famiUar. And if, among the different modes of doing it, some 
 are preferable to others, changes will be adoptedjby those who 
 wish to make them, according to convictions resulting from expe- 
 rience and observation, and not from any written details in agri- 
 cultural books. In this case, therefore, as in others, where the 
 subject must necessarily be familiar to the reader, we pass it over 
 in silence. 
 
 It may doubtless be expected that we shall discuss the causes 
 and the remedies of the potato disease. This we cannot do 
 satisfactorily, as both are matters yet to be ascertained. The 
 sensible editor of the Agriculturist says. We are constantly re- 
 ceiving communications on the cause and remedy of the inexpli- 
 cable disease of the potato, often cv->ntradictory in themselves, 
 few, if any, of which are without exception. By one class, the 
 cause of the malady is attributed to parasitical fungi ; by 
 another, to insects or worms ; a third, to exhausted vitality from 
 long cultivation ; a fourth, to an improper use of ammoniacal or 
 stimulating manures ; a fifth, to the want of lime in the ma- 
 nure or soil ; a sixth, to drought ; a seventh, to a superabun- 
 dance of rain ; an eighth, to a deficiency of electricity in the 
 atmosphere ; a ninth, to an excess of electricity ; and by a tenth 
 class to a miasmatic or some unknown agency, the mode of 
 action of which it is beyond the human perception to compre- 
 hend. 
 
 Among the numerous remedies which have been recommend- 
 ed, those, says Mr. Allen, that seem most to merit attention are, 
 the production of new varieties of seed ; early planting, fol- 
 lowed by early harvesting, and securing the crop from the wet 
 and the frost ; and, lastly, what we suggested three years ago ; 
 namely, plant on moderately rich, warm land, having a good 
 sod, with no manure but plaster, charcoal-dust, wood-ashes, 
 salt, or air-slacked lime. 
 
 Contempt of injurious words stifles them ; resentment revives them. 
 
bition, she sends power ; to avarice, ■wealth ; to loVe, 
 
 CULtURE AND USE OF THE POTATO. 457 
 
 o 
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 n3 
 
 H 
 
 It seems to be now pretty well settled that early-planted po- 
 tatoes escape the rot more generally than late ones. Potatoes 
 are a long while in coming up, and they may as well be planted 
 in April as at a later period — for all the planting can be done 
 at ohce. 
 
 Greensward is not the best kind of furrow for potatoes, un- 
 less the sodjwas turned as early as the last of October. For 
 when it is turned in the spring, it is more subject to the drought 
 than old ground, or ground ploughed early enough last October 
 to be partially rotted and made to lie compact enough to attract 
 moisture from below. 
 
 If the sward must be turned for potatoes in the spring, it 
 should be well harrowed, to prevent excessive drying. Mr. 
 William 0. Grady, of Southborough, says he had no rot in his 
 potatoes last season, and he ascribes it to his mode of treatment. 
 
 He put one hundred loads of peat on each acre of land in 
 the fall previous, and last spring he planted and put a shovel- 
 ful of peat-ashes to each hill. He did not raise a heavy crop, 
 but had about one hundred and fifty bushels to the acre. More 
 trials may be necessary to determine whether peat-ashes in the 
 hill are an infallible prevention of rot. 
 
 A word will be added from our own experience. It may be 
 of no value to any one else. It has been stated in another 
 chapter that our barn and cattle yard embrace a square of 
 about one hundred feet each way, on ihe south side of a hill of 
 considerable elevation. ' East of the enclosure thus made, the 
 ground has a gentle south-east declivity or aspect ; and the 
 west of it, the declivity is to the south-west., On each of these 
 declivities, two years since, we planted potatoes — the seed and 
 culture in both cases the same. It was found upon the har- 
 vestino-, that on the former the crop was abundant and of the 
 best quality — not a mite of disease in the whole ; but on the 
 latter the disease had made such ravages, the potatoes were not 
 worth digging. 
 
 In 1847, a correspondent of the Agriculturist makes the fol- 
 lowing remarks on the renovation of the potato, as it is termed. 
 He says, A potato that will not produce more than one hun- 
 dred and fifty bushels to the acre is not worth the farmer's 
 attention, much less if it be in a diseased state ; and, in my 
 opinion, the old potato is not worth redemption from disease, 
 even if it could be effected. The world, I conceive> is in imme- 
 diate want of new varieties ; new, in their origin from the seed ; 
 new, in quality and productiveness. Such potatoes have been 
 produced, and are in advance of the old crop in every important 
 particular. They are cultivated by several persons in Europe, 
 
 Commit not that to another which you can better do yourself. 
 
d less than fifty. They are ueed for traveliDg. In the winter they perform 
 
 
 J 
 I- 
 
 458 CULTURE AND USE OP THE POTATO. 
 
 as w6ll as in this country. A gentleman in Germany, near 
 Hamburgh, says he practiced raising potatoes from seed for 
 fifteen years, and obtained splendid varieties, which are not 
 attacked with the disease. I have practiced the same method 
 for seven, and know, by my own experiments and observations, 
 that it is the true course to pursue. 
 
 I am now making preparations for the culture of about thirty 
 acres, the ensuing summer, for seedling tubers, and the seed of 
 seedlings. The latter is in the fifth successive year from the 
 old potato. I expect my seedling tubers will produce four 
 hundred or five hundred bushels to the acre ; and from the 
 seed of my seedlings I hope to obtain at least three hundred 
 bushels per acre, the tubers weighing ten ounces each. I think 
 this estimate may be a safe one, though much will depend upon 
 the season. The summer droughts, if severe, operate unfavor- 
 ably to the potato crop. 
 
 The coming season, I intend to gather a large quantity of 
 seed from the balls of my seedling tubers, which grow on the 
 vines in great abundance, while on many of the old varieties 
 they have totally disappeared. Half an ounce of seed will 
 plant a quarter of an acre. Every year's experiment brings 
 both the tuber and its seed in advance of its former condition. 
 
 My purse ig very elim, and very few 
 
 The acres that I number ; 
 Tet I am eeldom stupid, never blue, 
 My treasure is an honest heart and true, 
 
 And qiuet slumber. 
 
 •a 
 o 
 
 By entertaining good thoughts yon Will keep out evil ones. 
 
In this travelers may sit, or burdens may be placed upon it. These 
 
 I 
 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CABBAGE. 
 
 Within the sun-lit forest, 
 
 Our roof the bright blue sky, 
 Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow, 
 
 W« lift our hearts on high. 
 
 The cabbage is one of the most ancient and esteemed vege- 
 tables, and as an esculent it stands in the highest estimation. 
 The name is applied to the firm head or ball that is formed by 
 the leaves folding close over each other. I|ike all other culti- 
 vated plants, the cabbage has undergone so many changes, and 
 assumed so many varieties, that it is not easy to give a -desciip- 
 tion that will apply to the whole. Without exaggeration, many 
 of the sorts are as far superior to others, in flavor, as cream is to 
 sour milk, yet we continue to grow, year after year, the same 
 varieties ; some of which are so rank and strong that they are 
 only fit for the cattle-yard or cow-shed, to the neglect of others, 
 which are not only tender and delicious to the taste, but are 
 truly agreeable to the olfactory organs. 
 
 Cabbagej for human food, is eaten in three forms, all of which 
 have their favorites, but which vary much in respect to their ef- 
 fect on the health. These forms are, the sliced raw cabbage, 
 plain boiled cabbage, and salted cabbage, or sour-crout, the fa- 
 vorite dish of the whole German nation. In the first form, of 
 raw cabbage, sliced fine, and eaten with vinegar, whether entirely 
 cold, or hot enough merely to wilt the vegetable, it is one of the 
 lightest and most wholesome articles of vegetable food, and, in 
 this shape, will supply a green summer vegetable through the 
 whole of the winter. Its use cannot be too highly recommended. 
 Boiled cabbage, on the contrary, is one of the worst articles of 
 diet that can be eaten by a person of feeble digestive powers. It 
 may do well for hale, athletic persons, accustomed to labor ; and 
 many are extremely fond of it. Sour-crout is much eaten by 
 the Germans in the United States, and they consider it very 
 wholesome ; although persons not accustomed to it consider it 
 nearly as indigestible as the boiled cabbage. 
 
 Sour-crout is prepared in the following manner. Cabbage is 
 sliced up fine, and a layer of it placed in the bottom of a barrel, 
 which is plentifully salted ; it is then well bruised with a heavy 
 mall or pestle, or is trodden down by a pair of heavy boots, till 
 
 Begin nothing until you have considered bow it will be finished. 
 
 O 
 B 
 w 
 
 a 
 a. 
 
 ■a 
 
 a. 
 
they smoke till they find themselves sleepy, and laying 
 
 460 CULTURE AND USE OF CABBAGE. 
 
 
 bo 
 
 the barrel is half filled with the froth that arises from the op- 
 eration. Successive layers of cabbage and salt are added in this 
 manner, each receiving the same treatment, till the vessel is 
 nearly full. Some cold water is then poured in, and the top of 
 the barrel is pressed down with heavy stones. The contents 
 undergo a brisk fermentation, which continues a week or two, 
 during which time the brine must be drawn off, and replaced by 
 new, until it remains perfectly clear, when the process is finished. 
 It must be kept covered with brine, and is thus simply a fer- 
 mented, or half sour, salted mass of cabbage. 
 
 The cabbage is generally regarded as an exhausting crop. In 
 this respect it probably follows the law of all plants that yield a 
 great degree of nourishment, abstracting a corresponding quan- 
 tity of nutfitive substances from the soil. But then, if it returns 
 back a corresponding quantity of manure, by its consumption, it 
 cannot be said to be an exhauster of the farm. On the conti- 
 nental part of Europe, and in those districts of England where it 
 is cultivated, as well as in this country, it is known to be a plant 
 that requires a good supply of manure. But then it is known 
 to be a rich forage plant, and calculated to replace that manure 
 by its consumption on the farm. 
 
 The cabbage requires a light, rich, and rather moist soil. 
 The seed may be sown about the middle of May, either, in a bed 
 for transplanting, or where they are intended to grow. The 
 transplanting should be done when the ground is light, just be- 
 fore a shower, or in cloudy, moist weather, but never when the 
 ground is wet and heavy. Before transplanting, it is advisable 
 to dip the roots in a semi-fluid mass of fine earth and water, im- 
 pregnated with whale-oil soap or crude nitre, or both. This will 
 be liliely to give the plants a vigorous start, and will be service- 
 able in repelling the approach of insects, We have never known 
 a solution of this soap to fail of protecting the plant from the 
 ravages of the cut-worm or any other insect that makes depre- 
 dations upon it, if applied at suitable intervals of time, to parts 
 liable jto be devoured. Cabbages should be hoed very often ; 
 not less than twice a week, especially when young. This should 
 be done when the dew is on. In want of whale-oil soap, a de- 
 coction of tobacco will destroy lice on cabbage. 
 
 It is known that in the neighborhood of large cities cabbages 
 are cultivated on a large scale, to supply their markets. When 
 this is done, there may be about 6000 plants to the acre, al- 
 though each cultivator will follow his own judgment in that 
 matter. A few years since there was published an account of a 
 cabbage-field, cultivated upon the farm of Lambert Wyckoff, in 
 Bushwick, on Long Island. The field contained sixteen acres. 
 
 Be ready to hear, careful to contrive, and slow to advise. 
 
there are enormous beds of shells. Hupiboldt found parts 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CABBAGE. 461 1 
 
 i a 
 
 a 
 -a" 
 
 ^ 
 
 The sod was turned over in the fall, and cross-ploughed in the 
 spring. Fifty cart-loads of street manure, from New York, was 
 put on an acre, at a cost of forty cents per load, delivered on 
 the farm, and the whole cost of cultivation was ten dollars per 
 acre ; so that the whole expense of manure and cultivation was 
 $480. The product of the field was 61,120 heads, which were 
 sold for $2,234 11 ; leaving a net profit of $1,954 11, or 
 $122 17, per acre. In this mstance, there were only about 
 4000 heads to the acre. 
 
 As a vegetable curiosity, we will give the extraordinary size to 
 which this plant has sometimes attained. It was stated in a 
 foreign journal that a Mr: James Wincup raised a cabbage which 
 weighed 56 lbs., having a circumference of six feet and eleven 
 inches, and some of its leaves measuring upon the entire edge 
 six feet and nine inches. The Liverpool Mercury, in the year 
 previous, gives ah account of another one, from the garden of a 
 Mr. Johnson, whose circumference was fifteen feet and a half, 
 and its diameter five feet and a half. The weight was 63 lbs. 
 And these monsters in the vegetable world — these Daniel Lam- 
 berts — have been nearly equaled in the Green Mountain State. 
 The Vergennes Vermonter, in 1846, gives an account of one 
 raised in Ferrisburgh, which had a circumference of thirteen 
 feet, and a diameter of six feet. The weight of this was thirty- 
 three pounds. 
 
 In various parts of Europe, cabbage is used for stock. From 
 a patch containing about 1500 heads, we were accustomed, in 
 1846, daily to gather and cook the bottom leaves, mixing with 
 them a moderate portion of meal and salt, to be given to six 
 hogs. This was their principal food for a period of four months. 
 Their growth and thrift was quite satisfactory. Two bushels 
 of leaves, when cut fine and pressed closely down, was gathered 
 daily for the whole period — the daily growth on such a plot be- 
 ing equal to that consumption — till about Christmas, when the 
 frost and snow gave evidence that harvest was necessary. Sub- 
 sequent attempts, in a similar way, have been less successful ; 
 and, possibly, never again shall we have equal results. 
 
 The ordinary modes of harvesting and preserving cabbage are 
 well known. For a portion of our product we have taken a 
 method but little known, and we therefore communicate it to our 
 readers. We dig a ditch, about twelve inches in depth, and of 
 suitable width to receive the head of a cabbage. This is to be 
 on dry ground. Into this we place all the inferior part of the 
 crop— the small heads and even clusters of leaves, before formed 
 into heads ; the leaves being well folded and pressed together, 
 and the roots of the stumps pointing upward. When arranged 
 
 Be always more ready to forgive than to return an injury. 
 
all the chief cities of their vast Empire were connected by roads, 
 
 462 CULTURE Ji:ND USE OF CAULIFLOWER. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 in this manner, the dirt removed from the ditch is used to fill up 
 all th6 vacant spaces, and to raise a ridge over the row of roots, 
 concealing them entirely from view. Here they remain till 
 wanted for use or market, in the spring. Then, on opening the 
 ditch, we have found most of the small heads materially in- 
 creased in size, and those, when placed there, consisting of loose 
 leaves, converted into heads of moderate size ; and all delight- 
 fully white, crispy, and delicate. We have done this for three 
 years. The better portion of the crop, not needed for winter 
 use, may be preserved, as well as the poorer part of it, in the same 
 manner. 
 
 Among the varieties of cabbage cultivated for family use, we 
 would recommend the following. For early summer use, the 
 Early York. For winter use, the Flat Dutch, or Drum-Head, 
 and the Savoy Cabbage ; and for pickle, the Red Dutch. Be- 
 sides these varieties, the Broccoli and the Cauliflower are so 
 important, we shall say something of their value and culture un- 
 der distinct sections of our -frork. 
 
 In vain we drudge, in vain we fondly roam. 
 For true content is only found at home ; 
 In our own breast the happy goddess lies. 
 And freely grants her favor to the wise. 
 
 CULTURE" AND USE OF CAULIFLOWER. 
 
 grant me, heav'n, a middle state. 
 Neither too humble nor too great ; 
 More than enough for nature's ends, 
 With something left to treat my friends. 
 
 _ The cauliflower is one of the cabbage or brassica tribe, and is 
 distinguished for its delicate and curious vegetable developments. 
 Its hea4 consists of a cluster of flower-buds, sometimes growino' 
 to a large size, white and tender, and of peculiar delicacy. 
 Among the succulent plants produced in our country, this 
 doubtless is one of the most nourishing, and likewise the best 
 adapted to_ the tender organs of digestion, especially in valetudi- 
 narians or invalids. Such persons, however, ought "to eat it with 
 
 Art and science have no enemies but those who are ignorant. 
 
when ladies of rank travel, two square boxes are fastened 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CAULIFLOWER. 463 
 
 the addition of some aromatic spice, and with bread. By fold- 
 ing the leaves over the heads, the flowers become bleached, as 
 it were, and additionally palatable. 
 
 The history of the cauliflower is not so well known as that of 
 many other plants. It was introduced into Great Britain some 
 time about the close of the seventeenth century. It was brought 
 from the island of Cyprus. On its being made known in Eng- 
 land, much attention was paid to its culture. In our own 
 country it is much less known than its merits deserve ; and, 
 like summer peas, should be in every family having a gar- 
 den ; it might and should become an every-day luxury to persons 
 living in the country. Broccoli would, perhaps, be a good sub- 
 stitute. 
 
 As the cauliflower is not generally cultivated in this country, 
 we annex the following directions for its use. Cut it when close 
 or compact, and white, and of a fniddling size. The stem is to 
 be so cut as to separate the flowers from the leaves below it. 
 And instead of removing the whole head, a small part of it may 
 be suffered to remain ; from this remaining portion, a second 
 and even a third head will ordinarily be formed. Thus the 
 same stem will ftirnish successive cuttings, instead of a single 
 one ; making the same bed last two or three months, instead of 
 one month. When it has been thus made ready, it should lie in 
 salt awhile ; then put into boiling water with a handful of salt. 
 Keep the boiler uncovered, and skim the water well. A small 
 flower will require about fifteen minutes for boiling ; a larger 
 one twenty minutes. Take it up as soon as a fork will easily 
 enter the stem ; a little longer boiling will spoil it. The flower 
 is to be served up with gravy or melted butter. 
 
 To show to what monstrosity of size it will sometimes attain, 
 we will mention two cases. The first was from the garden of 
 the Hon. Peter C. Brooks, Boston, whose decease has been re- 
 cently announced. The garden was upon the place of his sum- 
 mer residence in Medford, Mass. The bare flower of the plant 
 alluded to, when the leaves were all removed, weighed six 
 pounds and five ounces, and its circumference was three feet and 
 two inches. And more recently has one been produced in a 
 garden of Leicester county, England, measuring thirty inches in 
 circumference, and weighing ten pounds. It was stated that one 
 nearly as large had been cut from the same stalk the previous 
 year. 
 
 There is, indeed, more labor in cultivating this plant than is 
 consistent with the convenience of most'farmers. For the spring 
 and summer crop, the seed must be sown about the mid- 
 dle of the September previous. The plants will be in readiness 
 
 Be slow in choosing a friend, but slower in changing him. 
 
air jets of boiling water, sometimes to the height of two hundred 
 
 464 CULTURE AND USE OF BROCCOLI. 
 
 W 
 
 for their place of culture early in May. Those who have not 
 hot-beds had better procure the plants of their neighbors who 
 do have them. For the late autumn crops the seed may be 
 sown about the first of April. They require a bed of rich mel- 
 low earth, two feet in depth — one half this mass, at«least, of 
 well-decomposed manure.- It should have a southern aspect, 
 and not be exposed to cold northern winds. Cauliflower should 
 never be allowed to suffer from the drought. It will bear a co- 
 pious supply of water — if enriched, so much the better. Soap- 
 suds is an excellent nutritive for the growth of all vegetables, 
 and this especially. When coming to maturity, if the flowers 
 are opening more rapidly than the plant is wanted for use, the 
 process can be retarded a little by folding the leaves over the 
 heads, answering also the end of improving the quality. 
 
 Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, 
 When our mother. Nature, laughs around ; 
 
 When even the blue heavens look glad, 
 And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground ! 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BROCCOLI. 
 
 Tet oft we see that some in humble state 
 Are cheerful, pleasant, happy, and content ; 
 
 When those, indeed, that are of higher state, 
 With vain additions do their thoughts torment 
 
 Broocoli is an improved variety of cabbage, the flower^buds 
 of which are to be eaten. It differs from the cauliflower only 
 in the looseness of the inflorescence. The varieties are numer- 
 ous, the early white and white cape being best ; but the purple 
 cape is the only kind much cultivated. In flavor, good judges 
 pronounce the flowers equal to the cauhflower ; and, as its cul- 
 ture is much more easy, its use will become much more general, 
 especially in the country, where the conveniences for raising the 
 other are less common. It is not a long period since it was first 
 known to American horticulturists ; and, it is only about a quar- 
 ter of a century since its proper mode of culture was correctly 
 understood by them. 
 
 In the middle and northern portions of our country, the seeds 
 
 Application and industry are the best preservatives of innocence. 
 
fire. A fit Bff passion may gi^ you cause to mourn all the 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BROCCOLI. 465 
 
 so 
 
 I" 
 
 (9 
 
 1 
 
 h 
 
 I" 
 
 may be sewn tovrard the end of May. For printer supplies, a 
 later sowing may be necessary. An ounce of seed produces 
 from three to four thousand plants. The transplanting may be 
 made in July, or when the plants are Targe enough, into very 
 rich, dunged, and mellow earth; The plants should be from 
 eighteen . to twenty-four inches, apart, each way; The earth 
 should be moistened frequently with fluid manure, atid be kept 
 clean and loose by the frequent use of tlie hoe. In September 
 and October they will be fit for use. Mucji depends upon ob- 
 taining the right sort of seed ; for it has been pretty well proved 
 by experience that there is no dependence on the success of any 
 sort except that which is denominated the' purple cape broccoli. 
 Inattention to this has discouraged many in their attempts to 
 cultivate it. 
 
 If the seed is sown too early, the plants arrive at maturity 
 before the heat of. summer is oyer, and never after do well ; for 
 in August they cannot flower mupb, and, by haying to remain in 
 a stationary state after arriving at maturity, when the proper 
 season arrives, their having had to remain sometime dormant 
 seems to destroy their vigof, and their produce of flowers, if they 
 have any at all, is very inferior. And if sown .tqO late, the 
 cold attacks them before they attain that strength and firmness 
 which it is necessary for them to possess some time before the 
 beginning of frosty weather. To sow the seed at the time 
 above named, will be a proper medium to avoid either of. these 
 
 The flowers will probably begin to sho* themselves some time 
 in the latter part of Augjist; In September more will show 
 themselves; and, from tl^e iniddleof this mpnth to the middle 
 of November, they produce one continued succession of fleyers. 
 The degree of frost they will be afcle to withstand without sus- 
 taining the least injury, when they are in their highest state of 
 flowering, is astonishing ; and, the most singulal- and invaluable 
 characteristic of this plant is the great length of lime which is 
 contained between their firSt beginning to flower and their final 
 termination' ; and that, too, all froni the same seed, sown at 
 the same time, and theplants all treated precisely m the same 
 
 Whatevei' plant's may remain at the setting in of the first frost, 
 should be taken up, and placed in a common garden frame pro- 
 tected from cold in the ordinary manner, and rarely will one 
 fail of flowering in the course of the winter. Mr. Wilson says 
 his whole crop in this way is made valuable ; the flowering state, 
 manifesting itself through the most severe weather, without a 
 day of cessation. He has paid constant attention to the subject ; 
 
 I 
 
 A&irs imist suffer wlien recreation is preferred to b usiness. 
 30^ ' "^ 
 
iu suppressing pulmonary complaints. Dr. Rush 
 
 2 
 
 
 466 CULTURE AND USE OF TURNIPS. 
 
 his experience has, embraced its culture under all varying^ cjr- 
 .eumstahces ; and his intellectual habits are such as to render 
 his opinions always worthy to be I'eqeived without hesitation or 
 scruple. He pronounces, broccoli the best, or one of the Very 
 j^est, garden yegeiables with which he is acquainted. 
 
 Johnson, in his Farmer's Encyclopasdia, gives instruction for 
 raising the seed. , With this there has been more difficulty far 
 than in producing the flowers. As there see;ns to have been 
 some vuvexplained mysteries in the process, or some unfavorable 
 meteorological' influences to be overcome, it is probably better to 
 purchase seed than to attetnpt raising it, till made thoroughly fa- 
 miliar with its culture. ■ 
 
 I love the night — ^w^en she hath sat 
 A widowed <Jueen, with silvery leaves 
 
 Around tier cast like tragic robes, ' 
 Or when, less lilje to one who grieves, 
 
 She shines with thousand starry globes, 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF TURNIPS. 
 
 Beneath dread Winter's level sheets of snow, 
 The sweet, nutritious turnip deigns to grow. 
 
 The turnip is a vegetable common in ajl temperate aiid cqjd 
 latitudes. The ancients appear to have been well acquainted 
 with its value. Columdla, one of the most learned of their ag- 
 riculturists, recommends its being raised in abundance, because, 
 says he, those not wanted for the table will be eaten by the 
 cattle. It is not positively known of ,what coujitry it is a na- 
 tive; but this, is not extraordinary, considering its early and 
 widely-extended culture and use; nor is it very material, com- 
 pared with its well-knoWn value, both for the table and for the 
 general interests of husbandry. 
 
 The turnip is, by sbieqJJfic farmers, denominated a cruciferoug 
 plant, belonging to the same genus with cabbage.. It is cUlti-. 
 yated mainly for the sake of its esculent root. Thjs is turbinate, 
 more or less depressed, but Varies somewhat in color, size, and 
 
 A knowledge of our duties Is the most useful part of philosophy. 
 
shirts with a man Tvhq, was perfectly happy, would cure him. 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF TURNIPS. 4$? 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 §; 
 
 form, ia the sub-varieties produced by culture. , It is of a fleshy 
 consistence, and has a sweet, sotnewhat'pungent, and agreeable 
 taste. The radical leaves arp oblong and lyrate ; the upper 
 ones entire ; the flowers are usually yellow., The smaller vari- 
 eties are usually most agreeable to the taste, and hence, most 
 esteemed fpr culinary purposes ; but' the- quahty depends very 
 much on the nature of the. Soil, which should be sandy and light. 
 Although generally esteemed salubrious, in weak stomachs it is 
 apt to occasion flatulencey, and prove difficult of digestipn. 
 , The usual mode of using turnips at the table is with boiled 
 meats, rather than roast or broiled. If there is no established 
 canon of cookery for this, experience has found it thus to be 
 more adapted, to the instincts of the palate. The roots beipg 
 boiled soft,, are then mashed and strained, and mixed with but- 
 ter, cream, and other seasoning, according to each on^'s fancy. 
 Perhaps in tlie failure of the potato, should that ultimately fail 
 in countries where the laboring classes have mostly depended 
 on it for .subsistence, the turnip will be the bes,t, or one of the 
 best, substitutes. In reference to this, it has already been scien- 
 tifically examined, with favorable results. In the spring qf the 
 year, the sprouts of turnips are by many used for greens, rank- 
 ing with the best articles to be had at that early season. They 
 are wholesome and agreeable to the taste. A small patch 
 planted with them, would supply a family for weeks. The tur- 
 nip also possesses medicinal qualities. When baked, a syrup or 
 juice may be ejjtracted, which, mixed with honey, is used for 
 hoarseness, toughs, and asthmatic disorders. 
 
 Persons having a good variety, of which any one can judge 
 for himself, will do well to raise their own seed, as that which 
 is bought cannot always be depended upon. It is easily raised/ 
 and would aflbrd a good profit, when, sold. The best-shape4, 
 middle-sized bulbs should be chosen, the leaves being cut off 
 not nearer than an inch from the crown. They should be plant- 
 ed in a mellow soil, in rows three feet wide, and a foot from 
 bulb to bulb in the rows. This should be done, the latter part 
 of Marci or early in April. When the pods are well filled 
 with seeds, and these are round and hard, the stpm should, be 
 cut, close to the root, and carefully placed under a shp4 to dry. 
 The seed will ripen there without being scattered" out and lost. 
 When the pods are fully dry, the seed can be easily beaten out 
 witk a stict or light flail. Adopting this cburse,,the birds will 
 not destroy it. It is supposed that turnip:seed will remain 
 good for several years ; but it. is better, nevertH^less, always to 
 be supplied with that which is new- . _ , 
 
 Every person who has paid attention to the turnip culture. 
 
 Presumptioa and self-conceit will overshadow the brightest attainments. 
 
" What can you raise here P The answer was, * Our land 
 
 4^8 CULTURE aND USE OF CARfiOTS. 
 
 bo 
 
 
 thust be satisfied that it is a highly important crop for the) 
 farmei". The Rev. Henry Colman, who has devoted itmch of 
 hte energies for the last twenty years to agriculture, stated to 
 the Massachusetts Agricultural Society, that he had' raised, on 
 a single acre of land, nine hundred and three bushels of the 
 ^Mta Baga ; and this from one and a half pound of seed. And 
 a correspondent in the eleventh volunie of the New England 
 Farmer says, that his average crop of the same variety is six 
 hundred bushels to the acre. Many prefer other varieties, and 
 have no less succe.ss in the cultivation of them. A statement is 
 made in the Complete Farmer, that a gentleman of Pittsfield, 
 Massachusetts, raised seven hundred and fifty bushels of the 
 English, turnip upon a single acre of land. Similar cases of 
 large ferops might be found, almost without number. 
 
 How sweet to breathe the airVperfume, 
 And feast the eye with nature's bloom ! 
 Along the dewy lawn to rove, 
 And hear the music of the grove 1 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CARROTS. 
 
 Hard are life's early steps ; and but that youth 
 Is buoyant, confident, and strong in hope, 
 Men would be]iold its threshold and despair. 
 
 This is a well-known annual or biennial root, common alike 
 to the field and the garden. The wild carrot, says- Johnson, 
 from whence all those now cultivated came, is a native of Eng- 
 land. Others have said it was introduced into that country from 
 the island of Crete. The kinds now preferred are the red and 
 the orange. It is a crop which, for the heavier description of 
 soils, is becoming more and more cultivated ; ^for its produce is 
 not only large, but it can be grown on lands less valuable for 
 other crops. Although the soils best suited to it are deep^ sandy 
 loams, yet it can be grown successfully on sands and pea*. . -ITev- 
 ertheless, the carrot delights in a deep, mellow soil, and thus 
 land Jtttended for it can hardly be ploughed too deep. 
 
 It is Usual to trench-plough or siibsoil for it ; and in^ Hollaffd 
 they are at the pains to deepen with the. spade the furrows 
 made by the plough. It may be- sown on ridges, in drills, or 
 
 Pride is easily seen in others, but we can rarely see it in ourselvesv 
 
Oitioji, and so brief tbat aU may easily temember it. Tbis is 
 
 
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 ITS 
 
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 CULTURE AND USE OF CARROTS. 469 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 'I 
 
 brQad-ca$t. We prefer the drill ; and the growth is assisted if, 
 when cksaning the weeds between the drills, a spade is used, 
 loosing the dirt immediately contiguous to the rows. The reason 
 for it is obvious. Our own experience is not worth much for 
 others. It is brief in duration, and limited in extent; Such as 
 it is we give it to our readers. Last spring, 1849, we planted 
 about the thirtieth part of an acre, which we cultivated as here 
 recommended. The largest roots measured eighteen inches in 
 cirpuinferenee, and the whole ^rbdupt was forty bushels, equal 
 to twelve hundred bushels to the acre. The labor of cultivation 
 was so trifling, it would not be easy, to estimate it. We know 
 not the market price of carrots, but suppose twenty-five cents a 
 bushel wo\ild be jcheap. At this rate, the product of an acre 
 like ours; would be three hundred dollars. 
 
 Johnson says, an average crop of carrots is from 2&0 to 450 
 bushels. The premium crop of carrots, in 1845, at the New York 
 State Agricultural Society, was ten hundred and fifty bushelsjp 
 the acre. Col. Meacham, mentioned in the Farmer's Bietionary, 
 .succeeded several years in obtaining premiums ; his crops were 
 1000 bushels to the acre. The author of the Dictionary says 
 600 bushels is a good crop; and that 400 bushels in this coun- 
 try is the common crop. A correspondent of the Agriculturist, 
 in 1845, says he raised eight hlupdred bushels to an acre, on 
 land ttat had yielded him only fifty bushels of oats. The same 
 writer says he has raised occasionally the Belgian white carrots 
 three feet long and four inches in diameter. These were, indeed, 
 longer than our own, hut , only two-thirds as large; and ours 
 were of the common orange color. It is mentioned under the 
 head of foreign intelligence, in the Agi;iculturist for 1843. that 
 of the white carrot thirty tons had beeij had from the acre ; and 
 that Lord Ducie regularly got twenty-four tons. 
 
 Before sowing carrots, the seeds should be well rubbed> to 
 remove the hairy furze. And to iforward vegetation, it is recom- 
 mended that they he soaked in warm water about twenty-four 
 hours, and then mixed with dry sand, so as to separate them as 
 TOuch as possible in sowing. They should he sowed in a c^lm 
 time, and scattered with ajl possible equality. Johnson advises 
 that the seed, a fortnight before sowing, be mixed with sand or 
 loam, be kept moist, and turned over occasionally. It is desira- 
 ble to hasten the vegetation of the seed in advapoe of weeds, 
 otherwise the weeds will be the largest, and not so easily re- 
 Woved without destraying the carrpts, .which aU know are atprsj 
 extremely small. ti , ui. 1, 
 
 The various uses of the carrot are well known. But, Rimorm 
 it contains much nutriment, it is difficult of digestion, parUcula^rly 
 
 Superstition renders a man a fool, and skepticism makes him aijitd. 
 
 p 
 
 £?• 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 
 B 
 
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bar, with much gralrity replied, " Some succeed b}r great talent, 
 
 470 CULTURE AND USE OF CARROTS. 
 
 J 
 
 ^ 
 
 ft,. 
 
 if eaten raw or imperfectly boiled. Carrots are an excellent fod- 
 der for cattle and horses, either alone or mixed with hay ; and, 
 if given to cows in winter or the early part of spring, they 
 are said to cause a great increase Of milk, "which will have much 
 less offensive taste and smell than when fed on turnips. Hogs 
 will thrive well on carrots boiled with the swill. Carrots con- 
 tain a large portion of saccharine matter, and various but unsuc- 
 cessful experiments have been made to extract sugar from them. 
 They have been more advantagpously employed in distillatioh. 
 Ten pounds weight in carrots will yield about half a pint of very 
 strong ardent spirit ; and the carrots produced on an acre of 
 ground, amounting to twenty tons, have been known to yield 
 240 gallons of spirit. A syrup niade of these roots, and clarified 
 with the whites of eggs, has been found useful for several purr 
 poses. An infusion of the seeds, and the expressed juice of the 
 roots, are said to afford relief in fits of the gravel. A marma- 
 lade of carrots has been made and used with success iti sea- 
 scui-vy, and a poultice prepared from them is sometimes employed 
 in cancerous ulcers. 
 
 Although raw carrots, or when imperfectly boiled, are not 
 easily digested, y6t, when well cooked, they nourish and strengtIi'T 
 en the body, and an eminent physician has said that they havp 
 been found beneficial for consumptive persons. They are gen- 
 erally served on the table boiled with meats ; and for soups 
 they are an excellent article, giving them a fine flaivor. When 
 boiled for the table in the ordinary way, they may be cut in 
 slices, put on a plate, and have melted butter cast upon themj 
 The Dutch grate them, and with sugar and salt make a pickle 
 for their choicest table! butter. They are also made into pud- 
 dings and pies; first being boiled very tender, t^ioroughly 
 mashed, forced through a sieve, that no lumps may be in the 
 paste; then mixed 'with milk and eggs, and baked like pump- 
 kin pies. 
 
 Carrots are not easily iijjured by moderate frost; but when 
 severely attacked by it, they are very apt to rot after a thaw. 
 On the other hand, when they are put in large heaps and kept 
 warm, they soon ferment and rot. It is, therefore, somewhat 
 difficult to keep them during winter. When they -are dug, it is 
 advisable that they be left on the ground in heaps of small size, 
 to be washed clean ' by rain. When removed, the safest way 
 for them is to be placed in alternate layers with' straw, either in" 
 cellars or in stacks or heaps, which, on the approach of severe 
 cold, are covered over with straw and earth of sufficient thick- 
 ness to protect them from frost. Care must be taken to admit 
 the air as soon as the weather becomes mild. When carrots 
 
 Villains may prosper for a time, but their end is ignominy. 
 
let any one try ilie effects of intense application for a few 
 
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 CULTURE AND USE OF BEETS. 471 
 
 are kept in pitSi it is not safe to put more than a few bushels 
 together: It is said that eight pounds of hay, and seventy or 
 eighty pounds of carrots per day, will keep a laboring horse in 
 first-rate condition. Horses are extravagantly eager for carrots. 
 
 Here, too, dwells simple tratli ; plain innocence ; 
 Unsullied beauty ; sound, unbroken youth, 
 Patient labor, with a little pleas'd ; 
 Health ever blox)ming; unambitious toil; ' 
 Calm contemplation ; and poetic ease. 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BEETS, 
 
 Heaven's loving smile upon man's industry 
 Makes beautiful with plenty the wide land. 
 
 ThJ! beet is a well-known succulent root, which is cultivated 
 in our kitchen gardens, and grows wild in several countries in 
 the South of Europe. There are, two principal varieties of beet, 
 one of which is a deep red or purple color, and the other is 
 white, crossed with bands of red. The red beet is principally 
 used at table, boiled and cut into slices, as a pickle. That 
 which has a root like the bulb of a turnip, and is thence called 
 turnip beet, is the earliest variety, and is, on that account, 
 selected for garden culture, to be used in midsuraraer. What 
 is usually called the long blood is best for winter use. 
 
 In many parts of Germany, France, and Switzerland, the 
 white beet is much cultivated for human food, and is one of the 
 principal vegetables used there by the laboring classes. The 
 leayes of this beet are used as a substitute for greens and spm- 
 ach ; thfe ribs and stalks may be dressed like asparagus. They 
 have a pleasant, sweet taste, and are wholesome. It has been 
 ascertained that beet-roots may be substituted for malt, if de- 
 prived of the greater part of th«ir juice by pressure, then drj^d, 
 and treated in the same manner as the grain intended for brew- 
 ing Theiaeer made from the beet has been found perfectly^ 
 wholesome and palatable, and little inferior tp that prepared 
 
 frofa malt, . ,1 j ■«»■ .« 
 
 The beet used for field culture^ and sometimes called Mang^ 
 
 
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 S* 
 
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 Spend not where you may save ; spare not where youmusUpend 
 
we are wont to make our boast, are dead or dying, sad it » 
 
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 472 CULTURE AND USE OF BEETS, 
 
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 wurtzel, has long been an ol>ject of attention with farmers. It 
 is designed mainly for stock. In g&od soils, and *ith proper 
 tillage, it grows to a large size. Tiie principal part of the roots 
 is incliaed to appear above the surface of the ground. The 
 leaves are large and succulent. Many of the best New Eng- 
 land farmers have cultivated it extensively. In addition to 
 its value from the root, much has been written to prove that 
 the leaves may be successively stripped off and given to the 
 cows. While some affirm that this is no detriment to the roots, 
 and may be made a source of increased profit from the culture, 
 others affirm that such is not the fact. 
 
 A French writer has recommended this plant for hogs, oxen, 
 and cows. Hogs, he says, will eat them raw after having them 
 cut up fine, andf mixed with milk or other drink, thriving as 
 well as though fed on potatoes. He says oxen fed with forty 
 weight of these roots per day, with ten pounds of hay, for one 
 nionth, and after that with fifty weight per day with the roots 
 alone, will be fat enough for sale in two months more. And he 
 says that cows, fed twice a day in winter upon eighteen pounds 
 of these roots at each time, together with four pounds of bay 
 or chopped straw, will give as much good milk as in summer, 
 and they will be kept in the best possible state. Nor, accord- 
 ing to his. Opinion, are they less valuable for horses or sheep. 
 
 Colonel Powell, of Pennsylvania, observes, that his neat cattle 
 preferred mangel-wurtzel to any roots with which he was accus- 
 tomed to feed them. He also found them particularly favorable, 
 to the production of good milk. \ The same gentleman made the 
 following experiment with two heifers, selected for, being fat- 
 tened. They were of the same age, and the same breed, and in 
 every particular. similar ; placed in adjoining stalls, and fed three 
 times, a day by the same man. To one was given three pecks 
 of mangel-wurtzel and four quarts of corn-meal, daily. To the 
 other was given, daily, four and a half pecks, without meal. 
 When the last, which was fed on the mangel-wurtzel alone, had 
 become good beef, the other was not more than half fat. He 
 sent a certificate to the presidient of the Pennsylvania AgricuJt!!- 
 ral Society, that sixteen hundred and tbirty-four bushels otf -this 
 root, weighing seventy-eight thousand four hundred and forty- 
 eight ppunds, were produced upon one acre and fourteen perches ; 
 and a pai t of the same field, containing thirteen contiguous rows, 
 produced at the rate of two thousand and sixty-five, bushels per 
 acre, weighing forty-four tons five hundred and twenty-seven 
 ppHods. A few years since, one of these beets was raised at the 
 Alms-house farm, in Salem, Mass., which weighed tw<entj-;Gv:e 
 pounds, and meas^ired thirty inches in oircumference. 
 
 A little time may be enough to hatch a great deal of mischief. 
 
Roman emperora. Sir Humphrey Davy, though the son of a wood- 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF BEETS. 473 
 
 15 
 
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 13 
 
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 The editor of the Agriculturist, in an article on the culture of 
 the sugar-beet, which he thinks much superior to mangel-wurt- 
 zel, makes sundiy statements, which are worthy the attention of 
 every farmer. He does not suppose it will be for the interest 
 of our farmers to enter into the cultivation of this vegetable, to 
 be used in the manufacture of, sugar ; but, as a table esculent, 
 and especially as food for stock, on certain soils he considers it 
 the most profitable root that can be .grown. He says, either raw 
 or cooked, stock frequently prefer tliem to meal or corn ; and, so 
 far as he has had experience, be thinks three bushels of beets, 
 for neat stock, equal to one bushel of Indian meal. 
 ' According to tliis gentleman's didactics, four hundred bushels 
 is a fair yield in field culture, but six or eight hundred per acre 
 is common. The latter was his own average crop, although on 
 some rich clay land he had realized at tlie rate of thirteen huriT 
 dred bushels to tfae acre, and had heard of . three thousand 
 bushels having been produced to the acre, upon some rich loams. 
 The veracity of editors should in no wise be suspected, in deal- 
 ing out to the public such marvelous representations. They are 
 ordinarily founded in fact ; being the result of unusual circuni- 
 stances ; and are very properly collected and preserved, as stiiii- 
 ulants for rivalry in the various departments of husbaindry. But, 
 if we take the following hypothesis for aij explanation, the state- 
 ment naturally rests within the liniits of possibility. 
 
 These roots, says he, will weigh from 1*7 to 20 pounds each ; 
 ten pounds is not unfrequent. Now admitting this last weight 
 to each, and that seven rows stood in the width of a rod, which 
 would make them about two feet apart, and the roots one foot 
 apart in the rows, and allow sixty pounds to the bushel, we 
 should here have the enormous product of 3080 bushels to the 
 acre. The whole, therefore, comes within the precincts of pos- 
 sibility, and is not very obnoxious to proljabiUty; under those 
 high states of culture every year becoming less and less rare. 
 We have ourselves, in some kindred departments of rural cul- 
 ture, without material effort, and without unusual skill, that we 
 are aware of, realized results which we should previously have 
 classed among the impossibilities. 
 
 What pomp, what variety of hues ^ 
 
 The woodland scenes adorn 1 The purple, deep 
 Orange, and opal, and carnation bright, 
 To the ra(pt eye their lich profusion spread. 
 
 A fool may chance to put sometMng ip a wise man's head. 
 
passion. The charms of nature are here fully displayedy 
 
 J3 
 
 B 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF THE ONION. 
 
 There is a tide in the affairs of men 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
 ' Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
 
 The onion is supposed to be a native of Spain. However, 
 that is not known for a certainty tobe the fact. Nor can the 
 history of its culture in other countries be accurately knovyn. It 
 is highly valued, and but few gardens are destitutei of it.. Be- 
 sides its, use as an- article of food, fpr its. savory qualities, tiiany 
 esteem it indispensable in, soups and the seasoning of ijjeats. It 
 is highly nutritive; but roasted or fried, it is too hard of di- 
 gestion, for any except laborersior persons of vigorous digestive 
 organs. When used in its crude state, it has been known -to re- 
 main in thestoinach forty-ei^ht hours before being dissolved by. 
 ilie gastric juice, and in this state has been known to produce 
 spasmodic aflfections. , ' " 
 
 The best mode of preparing them for the table is to boil them 
 and serve them up with melted butter. If cooked in this way, 
 they are greatly improved by changing the water when they 
 are about half cooked, The second water should be poured on 
 from a boiling tea-kettle, a little salt being; cast upon tliem. If 
 used in stuffing or seasoning, in combination with other sub- 
 stances, they should be chopped very fine and thrown into boil- 
 ing water, and* bqiled about five, minutes. Afterward they 
 should be drained, and then pressed till no water remains. Then, 
 mixed with other substances, they may be eaten without any 
 inconvenience to the stdinach. The red variety is more acrid 
 than the white,, anji both become essentially milder in warm 
 climates. 
 
 Of the several varieties of onions, the yellow or silver-skinned, 
 and large red, are the best for a general crop. The bulbs are 
 handsome, of firm growth, and keep well throtfgh the winter. 
 The "New England whites are handsome for the table, and suita- 
 ble for piekhng, as well as to be pulled when young, and they 
 generally prove a very profitable crop. Besides, tiiere is, the 
 Welsh or tree onion, much grown in places where the common 
 onion does not seed well. This variety shoots up a stem, on 
 which small bulbs grow in place pf, seeds. These pea-bulbs are 
 
 Of a bad paymaster get Ivhat^ou can, tjiough it be but a straw. 
 
engaged ia quarrels, in fightings, in riots, and in all 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF THE ONION. 475 
 
 s> 
 
 ■3 
 
 a} 
 
 r 
 
 kept till the next year, when they are planted, and produce very 
 good roots, of considerable size, while the stem gives further 
 supply for next year's planting. 
 
 Onions all require a rich friable soil — a situation enjoying the 
 fall influence of the sun, and entirely free from trees, which are 
 very inimical to them. If the soil be poor, or exhausted, abun- 
 dance of dung should be applied in the preceding autumn or 
 winter, and the ground thrown into ridges. By these fneans it 
 becomes well decomposed and incorporated with the soil ; for 
 rank, unreduced dung is generally injurious to the crop. If, 
 therefore, the application of manure is neglected until spring, it 
 should be taken from an old hot-bed, or other source whence it 
 is to be had, in a thoroughly putrescent state, and turned in only 
 to a moderate depth. 
 
 The most noted place for the culture of onions in the United 
 States is Wethersfield, Con., a few miles from Hartford. Here 
 are large tracts of land devoted to this purpose, and many fam- 
 ilies are almost wholly employed in it. This has been the case 
 for more than a century, and is a source of no small profit. 
 Much of the labor of cultivation, after the ground is prepared, is 
 done by females. It has been remarked by those who visit the 
 place, that in the forepart of the day large numbers of women 
 will be seen in their onion-fields, with their implements of cul- 
 ture, and apparel appropriate for their vocation ; but that 
 toward eyening this apparel will be cast off, and another sub- 
 stituted, adapted to a well-furnished parlor. Such an exhibition 
 is full of instruction and material for useful reflection. On the 
 one hand, persons without useful and regular occupation, women 
 as well as men, should, in a moral point of view, hold a low 
 rank in society ; for surely they are, of but little real use in the 
 world. On the other hand, those who make it a matter of prin- 
 ciple, though not obliged to do it, to be habitually employed in 
 some vocation that will benefit their families and society, sub- 
 serve the only main rational end of human existence, and will 
 hence receive the reward due to faithful servants and stewards. 
 God never designed his creatures for a life of indolence. Those 
 who feel above labor are sadly deficient in their apprehensions 
 of duty, or moral dignity and social elevation. 
 
 In the field culture of onions, from eight to ten pounds of 
 seed is applied to the acre, sown in drills, twelve or fourteen 
 Inches apart, so as to admit a hoe or rake between them. It is 
 here frequently sown by hand ; but unless labor is judged to be 
 of little value, it should be sown by machines constructed for 
 that purpose. The sowing is usually done between the first and 
 the middle of April. As soon as the plants are up, the weedmg 
 
 Daub yourself with honey, and you will have plenty of fliea. 
 
Had he tamed his own tongue, it would have been 
 
 476 CULTURE AND USE OP THE ONION. 
 
 e 
 
 S 
 
 is commenced ; and, in the course of the season, six of eight, 
 hoeings are necessary. By the latter end of Jidy or early in 
 August they will ordinarily be fit for harvesting-r-a labor that 
 may require for its completion two or three months.' For their 
 better preservation, they are plaited or braided into ropes, with 
 straw, weighing about three pounds and a half each, so that they 
 can be hung up, exposed to the air, and kept dry. If in large 
 masseSj they heat, and are liable to decay. 
 
 The yield at Wethersfield 1s frond 6000 to 10,000 ropes per 
 acre, which is equivalent to five or six hundred bushels, depend- 
 ing on the size of the bulbs. Although the culture of onions, 
 including seed, labor, and manure is pretty expensive, yet the 
 crop affords a fair profit, especially to those engaged in it at 
 that town ; for the onions there raised are well knowii iu the 
 market, and accordingly command a more ready sale, and a 
 better price than is to be expected for those offered by cultivators 
 of less skill. 
 
 The fact that the same land being here cultivated for so long 
 a period, and with the same crop, without any indicatioh of an 
 exiiausted soil, is conclusive evidence that, with a sufficient 
 amount of fertilizing agepts annually east-npon it, exhaustion is 
 not to be apprehended. If land is duly manured, what is called 
 rotation of ' crops might not be needed. However, as in field 
 culture; especially, rotations diminishing the necessity fo^ ma- 
 nure are a judicious expedient to the farmer of small capital.* 
 
 Look nature through, 'tis revolution all; 
 
 AH change ; no death. Day follows night, and night 
 
 The dying day; stars rise and set, and rise : 
 
 Earth takes the example— to reflourish, fades; 
 
 As in a wheel, all sink to reascend. 
 
 Emblems of man, whapasses, not ezpireR, 
 
 Patch by patch is good husbandry, but patdi upon patch is plain beggary- 
 
the widow's heart is sunk, and she implores asaist- 
 
 'e 
 3 
 
 § 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF THE PARSNIP. 
 
 On yon bed of straw, see th' world's conqueror lie — 
 Day's faintest dawn must wake him to his toil, 
 His labor-hardened hand must guide the plough I 
 
 This is a well-known calinaTy v^gietable, being a native of ttre 
 South of Europe. The root is biennial and fleshy. It is sweet, 
 and slightly aromatie to the taste. It is particularly desirable 
 for fenaily use in the spring of the year; for, if left in the 
 growwd, it receives no injury from the frost ; on the other hand, 
 the flavor of it is improved by the frost. Parsnips are said to 
 be even more nourishing than carrots or turnips. The common 
 mode of using them for human food is boiled with meat ; and 
 they are improved if subsequently cut in thin slices and dipped 
 in a batter of flour, butter, and eggs, and then fried brown. 
 They are also said to make a good marmalade ; and the Scotch 
 eat them mashed with potatoes and butter, and then mixed 
 with milk. They contain a small amount of vinous aliment. 
 
 In addition to the importance of parsnips for the family, they 
 are of great value for stock. Cows eat them with avidity, and 
 the milk is finely flavored, and the butter delicious. Beef made 
 from them brings the highest price in the London market. All 
 animals, horses, hogs, and sheep, as well as cows, eat them as 
 readily as carrots ; some say more readily ; and they will not 
 touch potatoes when parsnips are before them. They are used 
 to fat pork as well as beef, and the meat is of superior quality. 
 
 There are some circumstances which render the culture of 
 parsnips of peculiar value. First, for the family. Squashes can- 
 not ordinarily be kept through the winter. Cabbages decay 
 very soon after the approach of spring, if they have been kept 
 till that time. Turnips and beets have both become poor. 
 Thus the variety of good vegetables is very small at that period 
 of the year, especially if without this one. For stock, it is the 
 only one that retains its full nutritive qualities. The parsnip, 
 as already remarked> is even better in the spring, for stock, as 
 well as for human food, than at any previous time. It is not 
 so with potatoes, carrots, or turnips. Without the best care 
 they cannot be kept at all ; and with the care that protects 
 them from frost, the latter two are liable to loss and deterio- 
 
 A. divided family can no more stand, than a divided cctomonWealth. 
 
BO shall the charms of thy mind add lustre to the 
 
 478 CULTURE AND USE OF THE PARSNIP. 
 
 .a 
 
 ,P< 
 
 i 
 
 ration in nutriment. The turnip loses much of its virtue ; and 
 the carrot may heat, decay, and become unfit for use. Hence, 
 the farmer needs a crop, especially for his milk cows in the 
 spring, that is not subjected to such hazards. 
 
 The parsnip furnishes him with it. The seed may be sown 
 as soon as the frost is out of the ground. The root will grow 
 to the time when the ground again freezes ; and, if left in the 
 ground, will grow during the thaws of winter ; thus requiring 
 no attention for its preservation till actually wanted for use. 
 Whenever wanted, if not made fast in the grouiid by frost, it 
 may be pulled and fed out. In given weight, potatoes are, in- 
 deed, superior to carrots, turnips> or parsnips; but in' nutritive 
 properties, the parsnip is not inferior to potatoes or carrots, and 
 is much superior to turnips. Besides, it is raised much cheaper 
 than potatoes. Parsnips have been produced at the rate of 1200 
 bushels from an acre of ground. The same ground, under the 
 like culture, would not probably yield more than three hundred, 
 bushels of potatoes. 
 
 Parsnips require a deep, rich, mellow soil, free from stones or 
 coarse gravel. Like onions, they may be raised from year to 
 year on the same ground, which should be ploughed deep, or 
 dug with the spade, and well harrowed or raked. It is best to 
 put the seeds in drills, which admit of more convenient culture; 
 being 15 or 18 iYiches apart. No rnatter how early it is sown ; 
 and, as it^is very light, and vegetates slowly, it should be soaked 
 in water several days before being sowed. The seed may be 
 covered to the depth of an inch. As parsnips require the whole 
 season to acquire maturity, other seeds are, sometimes, without 
 injury, sown with them ; for instance, radishes, lettuce; and early 
 beets. These being pulled in the first part of the season, are 
 not in the way of the other. 
 
 Weeds should never be allowed to choke the plant; and as 
 soon as the young parsnips are two or three inches, high, they 
 should be thinned out, so as -to stand four or five inches from 
 each other. The ground should be kept mellow. A spade be- 
 tween the rows would do good. If in the field, it may be well 
 to have the rows so far from each other as to admit a plough 
 between them. They require no more attention than turnips or 
 carrots. .Rarely are they injured by insects. It is believed no 
 farmer, who has once made the experiment in raising parsnips 
 for his stock, will ever after omit their culture. 
 
 Hail to the power that mveth 
 
 The bounty of the soi^ 
 And freedom, and an hotiored name. 
 
 To the hardy sons of toil I 
 
 A goo^ man can never be miserable, nor a wicked man happy. 
 
judgment, and all will obey her. The care of the 
 
 
 tg 
 •S 
 
 
 <3 
 I 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CELERY. 
 
 Nature I'll court in her aequester'd haunts, 
 By mountain, meadow, streamlet, gfove, of cell; 
 
 Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chants, 
 Andj health, and peace, and contemplation dwell 
 
 Obleky is a hardy biennial plant. The blanched leaf-stalks 
 are a very excellent raw salad. It is supposed to be a native of 
 GreatBritaih ; and, in its wild state, is found in marshy grounds 
 and ditches, having a coarse, rank taste. Under judicious culti- 
 vation, it is surprisingly altered, becoming sweet, mild, and 
 crispy. There are many varieties, but wiiat is called the white 
 solid is usually esteemed the best. It is produced from seed, 
 and one ounce of seed is sufficient for ten thousand plants. It 
 requires a soil rather moist ; rich in vegetable mould, but not rank, 
 from new, unrotted dung. 
 
 The seed Should be sown in drills, ten or twelve inches from 
 each other — if wanted for early use, in hot-beds ; or if not, the 
 latter part qf March, in beds having a good exposure to the sun. 
 If the Weather be dry, moderate waterings should be given, 
 both before and after the plants come up. As soon as they are 
 up two or three inches, they may be transplanted into other 
 beds, in sunny situations, formed of old hot-bed dung, or well- 
 rotted stable manure, mixed with one-fourth of its bulk of finely- 
 pulverized e^rth. Here they should be set three or four inches 
 apart, and be daily watered, until they have taken firm root, 
 and as often afterward as the dryness of the weather may 
 require. 
 
 After the plants have attained the height of six or eight 
 inches, they may be transplanted into trenches. The ground 
 selected for these trenches should be rich, and have an open ex- 
 posure. These trenches should be five or six feet distant from 
 each other, and from fifteen to twenty inches in depth — the 
 earth removed from the trench being placed on each side of it. 
 The trench is t6 be filled up three or four inches with dung; 
 well rotted. On top of this dung loam is to be cast, two inches 
 in depth, mixing both together. Then a row of the plants is to 
 be set in the middle of this compost, with a distance of five 
 inches between each two. The tops and roots of the plants are 
 to be trimmed before being set in the trenches. If the weather 
 be dry, they must be watered freely ; and, till the roots are 
 
 A joke never gains over an etfemy, but often loses a friend. 
 
of countfeas millionSj Alexander looked down upon a coaquered 
 
 480 
 
 CULTURE AND USE OF CELERY. 
 
 
 •s 
 
 a 
 
 m 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
 firm, and the plants begin to grow, they should be covered 
 over in the daytime, so as Hot to feel the heat of the sun, but the 
 covering removed in the night, to receive moisture from the dew. 
 It is needful that the dirt be loosened occasionally about the 
 roots of the plants in the trench ; they will grow the better for 
 it ; and when they are risen up eight or ten inches, the process 
 of filling up the trench may be commenced, to be repeated 
 every week or ten days. This is to^ be done when the weather 
 is dry, and thes leaves are to be pressed together, which will 
 keep them erect ; the whole growing together in a mass, will be 
 more delicate than though spread out apart from each other. 
 In the first few mouldings or earthings, as it is called, the dirt 
 should be sparingly pressed against, the stems, forming a slight 
 ridge on each side of the rows, leaving a hollow to receive the 
 benefit of the waterings or rain. When the plants become 
 strong enough to bear a mould of six inches in height, the earth 
 may be drawn up equally on each side, preventing it as much 
 as possible from falling into the hearts of the plants. This may 
 be done by tying a string around the leaves, or by pressing them 
 together by one hand, while the other draws up the earth. 
 When the moulding is finished, the string, if used, is to be re- 
 moved. 
 
 By the above means the stems will all be blanched as they 
 rise upward, and will have a peculiar delicacy of texture, as 
 well as of taste. The earthing is to be continued as long as 
 the plants continue to grow. It will sometimes grow to the 
 height of tvo feet, a.nd two feet and a half. The winter store 
 is usually kept in sand, knd covered with straw, in an erect 
 posture, as when growing. The sand keeps it fresh. If the 
 whole root is taken up uncut, the stump, after the .cutting oflf 
 the head, will again sprout in a warm cellar, and yield a second 
 supply of small, but very sweet and tender celery. Some of 
 the New Jersey gardeners, who supply the New York market, 
 have raised each 60,000 heads in a season, which, at six cents 
 the head, the wholesale price, would amount to $3600. This 
 shaws how profitable its culture may be made, small as the 
 business may appear. If it were generally understood how 
 easily it is produced, few only would neglect to raise enough for 
 their own families. Taken directly from the trench or from the 
 sand in the cellar, it has a delicacy and freshness which it does 
 not possess after being in market, and its transition thereto some 
 da,ys. 
 
 Thrice happy time, 
 I Best portion of the various yeir, in which 
 
 Nature rejoiceth, smiling on her Works, 
 
 Lovely, in full perfection wrought 
 
 A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches/ 
 
the only rival he had on earth, CseBar was miserably assasei- 
 
 &0 
 
 CULTURE OF THE STRAWBERRY. 
 
 Wife, into the garden, and set me a plot 
 With strawberry -roots the best to be got; 
 Such growing abroad, among thorns in the wood, 
 Well chosen and picked, prove excellent good. — Tussen 
 
 This is one of the most wholesome and most delicious of our 
 fruits. It is too Well known to require eulogy ; and it is too 
 easily produced to require any advocacy for its culture. Never- 
 theless, a few only, comparatively, allow their families to enjoy 
 the luxury of its use'. Jt exhales a most delightful perfume, 
 and the flavor is exquisite, especially immediately after being 
 plucked from the stem. The pulp is light and melting, and 
 does not, in the stomach, undergo the acetous fermentation. 
 
 It has been said that this fruit received "its present name from 
 the ancients, who were accustomed to place straw underneath 
 the leaves, to prevent the berry falling upon the ground; a 
 practice yet in existence. The root of the strawberry gives out 
 several long, slender, creeping shoots, ^hich take root at inter- 
 vals, and form so many new stocks. The leaves are composed 
 of three leaflets, supported upon a long foot-stalk, which is pro- 
 vided with stipiiles at the base. From the midst of the leaves 
 arise two or .three simple, slender, silky stems, from four to six 
 inches high, and terminated by a few while flowers. After 
 flowering, the receptacle increases, acquires a pulpy and succu- 
 lent consistence, and finally a red color, when the strawberries 
 have attained maturity. Numerous varieties of the plant have 
 been produced, some of which are of peculiar e.tcellence. 
 
 In the culture of this plant, particular attention must be paid 
 to the soil, otherwise the fruit will be deficient in quantity and 
 quality. To make the culture profitable, it must be abundant 
 and of the best varieties. The soil should be a deep, light, rich 
 loam; and if not such nsiturally, it must be made so by proper 
 management. The spade should be freely applied, and to the 
 depth of fifteen or twenty inches ; the wljole mass made mellow, 
 and mixed with a large quantity of the be?t manure. An open 
 situation is required. If shaded by trees, or close fences, or 
 buildings, the success will be doubtful. For an early crop, the 
 inclination should be to the south or the south-east. For a late 
 crop, the inclination should be west or north. Adopting such 
 
 Be frugal of your time, but not at the expense of your health. 
 ' 31 
 
 B 
 
 ■Q 
 
f 
 
 ped threebushels of golden rings frqm the fingers of her 
 
 482 CULTURE OF THE STRAWBERRY. 
 
 a, 
 
 locations, the season of the strawberry crop will be materially 
 prolonged. 
 
 The usual time for transplanting atrawberry-plants is in the 
 months of May and August. Those who take^ the latter month 
 for it, are induced in their preference by the. fact that the sea- 
 son of bearing is past, and hence no injury will be done to the 
 crop in providing the new plants. In this case, the produce 
 will be small the succeeding year. But if good plants can be 
 had in May, a full crop may be expected from them the suc- 
 ceeding year. Cultivators differ in opinion as to the distance at 
 which the plants should be set from each other. All, however, 
 agree that, for convenience in culture, they should be in straight 
 rows. It may perhaps be as well for each one to follow his 
 Own taste and judgment. The great point is, that they should 
 not be too close together. If allowed to cover over the ground 
 entirely, weeds and grass cannot be eradicated without great 
 labor ; besides, if this is effected, the produce is far less abun- 
 dant than when allowed more space. 
 
 If any recommendation can be given on this matter, based 
 upon our own experience, it is as follows. We prefer that the 
 ground for culture should be laid out in beds of four or four 
 und a half feet in width, no matter how long, with alleys of 
 eighteen inches in width. The plants should be set npon each 
 bed in two parallel rows, two feet distant from each other, and 
 the plants one foot from each other in the rows. By this means 
 the beds can be cultivated and the fruit gathered by a person in 
 the alley with the greatest convenience and without treading on 
 the beds to press down the earth. This will also allow, when- 
 ever needed, a trench of six or eight inches in depth to be dug 
 between the two rows, in the centre of the bed, for manure ; on 
 which, when placed in the trench, the dirt removed in making 
 the trench can be placed, which is the most convenient method 
 for enriching the soil, as rendered necessary from year to year. 
 
 A hoe and a rake are to be used, as needful in the removal 
 of weeds and grass between the rows and the hiHs. When 
 the runners begin to grow, they are to be turned by the rake 
 or the hand, to form rows lengthwise of the beds, in a line with 
 the first plaiitings. Thus, in a short period, these runners will 
 make in each bed two continuous and parallel rows, easy of ac- 
 cess, m all stages of the culture, and for gathering the fruit. 
 The rake should be light, with tfeetli pot more than one inch and 
 a half apart, and the rake of a size to be easily used between the 
 rows. At the close of the bearing season, if the rows are fijU, 
 and plants are wanted for new beds, the runners may be allowed 
 to take root in the space between the rows, and the raking be 
 
 Close thine ear against those that open their mputh agai^et others. 
 
Back-dflth, Boniparte closed liig ej-es in lonely banishtnent, almost liter- 
 
 o 
 
 ■3 
 
 CULTURE OF THE STRAWBERRY. 453 
 
 a 
 ■a 
 
 i 
 
 •A 
 
 •a 
 
 t3> 
 
 discontinued. They must, however, be removed early in the 
 succeeding spring. If not needed for new beds, they should be 
 destroyed ; otherwise, the surface of the beds would soon be en- 
 tirely covered. 
 
 It is advisable to cover strawberry beds, late in the fall, with 
 forest leaves or straw, to protect the plants from the winter 
 frosts ; but in the spring the whole should be removed, that the 
 ground may be kept in good condition. However, just previous 
 to the bearing, it may be well to place a thin coat of straw along 
 each side of tlie rows, to prevent the fruit from falling upon the 
 ground. This will save the labor of washing oflf the sand. 
 
 The labor of cultivating the strawberry for the use of a single 
 family is but a mere trifle. Were it generally kiiown how 
 readily it is -done, but few in the country would be without an 
 article so agreeable to the taste, and capable of being used in so 
 many dificrent ways. Strawberries and cream are one of the- 
 greatest luxuries. They make an excellent sweetmeat. They 
 ai'e palatable for a jam' or for pies; and a good wine is made 
 from them. 
 
 If raised for market, they are certainly very profitable. A 
 writer in the Agriculturist mentions a patch 20 feet by 30, wiioh 
 produced five bushels. Another case is mentioned in the sa,me 
 journal, where 20,000 baskets had been picked from a single acre 
 of land, and sold at an average of five cents per basket, making 
 a product of $1000. This is, indeed, an uncommon product, 
 and seldom can they be sold at a price so high. But if 10,000 
 baskets were a fair crop, and, three cents the basket a fair price, 
 this would make the sum of $300. The culture and marketing 
 not being more than one-fourth of the amount, would ieave a 
 net profit of $225 for one acre of land. 
 
 How Bweet, at ■early morning's rise, 
 To view the glories of the skies, 
 And mark tpith curious eye, the sun 
 Prepare his radiant course to run 1 
 Its fairest form thein nature wears, 
 Alad clad .in brightest green appears. 
 
 4 Breaking your feith may gam you riches, but never get you glory. 
 
dred and thirty-seven are Asiatic ; five hundred and eighty- 
 
 CULTURE OF THE RASPBERRY. 
 
 The breeze-lil^e mneic pandering o'er the boughs, 
 Each tree a natural harp — each different leaf 
 A different note, blent in one vast thanksgiving. 
 
 The raspberry grows wild in roeky places throiigliout the 
 colder parts of the northern hemisphere. But of late much at- 
 tention is paid to its cultivation ; and there are several varieties 
 to be found, varying in the size and color of its fruit. It has an 
 agreeable flavor, and is employed for .desserts, for jams,^ and for 
 tarts. It is also used in the making syrups, jellies, and wines. 
 The wine made from it, which is a refreshing beverage, when 
 diluted with water, is used in fevers. 
 
 The stems of this plant are biennial, erect, three or four feet 
 high, and rough, with numerous prickles. The flowers are 
 small, white, or pinkish white, pendulous, in drooping, terminal 
 clusters. A light soil is best suited to its culture, and an eastern 
 or western exposure, slightly shaded. It is generally propa- 
 gated by suckers, which the old roots give out in great profu- 
 sion. They should be put out in rows not less than three feet 
 apart, in every direction. They require a plenty of manure ev- 
 ery year. 
 
 The wood of the raspberry-bush produces fruit but one year, 
 therefore t]bat should carefully be cut down below the surface of 
 the earth, and the young shoots should be shortened to less than 
 three feet in height ; and not more than three or four shoots 
 should be left to each root, as these will produce a greater num- 
 ber of berries, and larger fruit, than would be obtained if twice 
 that number of suckers were left. The middle of October is the 
 time for this pruning. The fruit is produced from young 
 branches^ out of the last year's suckers or shoots. A plantation 
 of raspberries will be in perfection at the third year, and after it 
 has borne five or six years^ it must be broken up, and a new one 
 formed, on another plot pf ground. 
 
 In addition to the intrinsic value of the raspberry, its culture' 
 is rendered important from the fact that, at the period of its 
 perfection, there is no fruit that can be used as a substitute for 
 it. Immediately succeeding the strawberry, it makes with it 
 ajnd the blackberry, whjch next succeeds, a most valuable suc- 
 
 Gharity and pride have different aims, but both ieed the poor. 
 
 ?'i 
 
receivers of stolen goods ; 23,000 persons yearly picked 
 
 CURRANTS AND GOOSEBERRIES. 435 
 
 cession of table desseits, trben there is seemingly nothing else 
 that can be had. And it is so easily produced, the want of it 
 may be esteemed an indication of indifference or inattention to 
 the dainties of good living. For the use of a single family only 
 a small piece of land is wanted. 
 
 To make i;aspberry paste, let a quart of the berries be well 
 mashed, straining one-half, and putting the juice to the other 
 half. It is to be' then boiled fifteen minutes, after which a pint 
 of red currant juice is to be added, and further boiled. 
 
 To me the garden a vast piciuri; seems : 
 Be painter, tlien. The ample fields around. 
 Their varying shades unnumbered that display 
 The vivid rays of light, or mass of gloom ; 
 Tlie hours, and seasons, and revolving still 
 The circ'le of \he year, and circle of the day ; 
 The meads in variegated beauty bright; 
 The ever-cheering verdure of the hills; 
 The streams, the rocks, the rivers, and the flow'rs ; 
 Thy pencils these, thy canvas, and thy tints. 
 
 CURRANTS AND GOOSEBERRIES. 
 
 A flower I love. 
 Not for itself, but that its name is linked 
 With names I love. A talisman of hope 
 And memory. 
 
 Red currants, black currants, white currants, and gooseberries, 
 are the fruit of welj-known shrubs, which are cultivated in gar- 
 dens, and which also grow wild, in woods and thickets, in various 
 parts of this country and of Europe. The utility of all these 
 fruijis in domestic economy has long been understood. The juice 
 of the red species, if boiled with an equal weight Of loaf-sugar, 
 forms an agreeable substance called culranf-jelly, which is much 
 employed in sauces and for other culinary purposes, and also in 
 the cure of sore throats and colds. It is frequently mixed with 
 water, and then becomes a favorite beverage. 
 
 The juice of the currant is also a valuable reniedy in obstruc- 
 tions of the bowels ; and in febrile complaints, it is useful on ac- 
 
 Fame is as difficult to be preserved, as it was at first to be jicqnir.ed. 
 
most singular course, and dared to tread upon the tempting honors of 
 
 1^ 
 
 •a 
 
 ■c 
 
 '3 
 .S 
 
 
 486 CURRANTS AND GOOSEBERRIES. 
 
 count of its readily quenching thirst, and, for its cooling eflfect on 
 the stomach. And this juice, fermentfed with a proper quantity 
 of sugar, becomes a palatable ^ine, which is much improved by 
 age. The juice of the white currant is even more valuable for 
 wine than that of the red, being sold for a high price. When 
 foreign wines were taxed with high duties, and before the influ- 
 ence of the temperance movement had made so much progress, 
 the culture of currants for wine, in some sections of the country, 
 became a pretty extensive business. The white or flesh-colored 
 currants possess the same qualities of the red ; and the wine 
 from them had the preference, because of its greater resemblance 
 to some foreign wines. 
 
 The berries of the black currant are larger than those of the 
 red, and in some parts of Siberia are even said to attain the size 
 of hazelnuts. They, too, are Occasionally made into *ine, jelly, 
 or syrup. They have a peculiar, flavor, which to some persons 
 is unpleasant. Nevertheless, they are supposed to be healthy, 
 especially the juice, when made into syrup. There is also a 
 small black currant, the wine of which is used in lung fevers, 
 putrid fevers, and ulcerous sore throats, and also in ca,ses of pu- 
 trid dysentery. 
 
 The following direction has been given for making wine from 
 currants. Let the fruit be fully ripe, and freed from leaves, webs 
 of insects, and decayed or defective berries ; let them be mashed 
 and pressed, and to every gallon of juice two gallons of water 
 are to be added ; and to every gallon of this mixture three and 
 one-fourth pounds of sugar, one gill of brandy, and one-fourth 
 of an ounce of alum pulverized. All these ai-e to be mixed to- 
 gether, and put into the same clean cask. In the following 
 spring the wine is to be drawn, adding a gill of brandy to the 
 gallon, and put into a clean cask or bottles, and it is fit for use, 
 though it improves by age. It has been estimated that an acre 
 of currants, well cultivated, will probably yield fruit sufficient 
 for 1000 gallons of wipe. 
 
 For the table, gooseberries are more highly esteemed than 
 currants. For culinary purposes, they have generally been era- 
 ployed before they are ripe ; but this is founded on erroneous 
 notions of their chemical properties, since, either for sauces or 
 for wine, though they are more cool and refreshing, they do not 
 possess the delicate flavor and rich saccharine qualities which 
 belong to the ripe fruit. Wine made of gooseberries has a great 
 resemblance to champagne. The skins of the fruit, after the' 
 juice has been expressed, afford, by distiltatioi), a spirit some- 
 what resembling brandy. Vinega^ may be made f room goose- 
 berries. Some of the kinds are bottled while green, and kept, 
 
 •< 
 
 H Wisdom jmd virtue make the podr rich, and the rich honorable. 
 
trackless deep; fix your eye upon tbe pole star, and don't 
 
 9 
 
 8 
 
 CURRANTS AND GOOSEBERRIES. 437 
 
 3 
 
 <s 
 
 5j> 
 
 1 
 
 for ■winter use ; and others are, for that purpose, preserved with 
 sugar. Gooseberries vary much in color, size, and quality. 
 Some are red, others green, and others yellow or amber-colored. 
 Some are smooth, and others are hfliry. Wild gooseberries are 
 very inferior in size to those cultivated in gardens. 
 
 The most approved mode of propagating currants and goose- 
 berries is by cuttings, being far better than suckers. The proper 
 cuttings for planting are the shoots of the previous summer's 
 production, of straight, clean growth. They should be taken 
 from healthy trees, and such as are, according to their kinds, 
 remarkable for bearing the finest fruit. They should be cut 
 from twelve to fifteen inches, and planted at least eight deep, 
 and not less than twenty-four inches apart— gooseberries more 
 than that. Previous to planting, every bud except three or four 
 near the top, which are to form the head of the plant, are to be 
 cut ofif close. The roots do not come out of the buds, but 
 through the smooth, clean bark ; but generally a little below, a 
 bud, and sometimes at the lower extremity of the cutting, from 
 between the bark and the wood. Currants need the benefit of 
 the sun and the air, and should not, therefore,, be placed in the 
 shade, or by buildings or tight fences. 
 
 Life's best gifts are bought dearly. Wealth is won 
 By years of toil, and often comes too late : 
 With pleasure comes satiety ; and pomp 
 Is compassed round -with vexing vanities : 
 And genius, earth's most glorious gift, that lasts 
 When all beside is perished in the dust- 
 How bitter is the suffering it endures ! 
 How dark the penalty it exacts ! 
 
 R Truth and honesty have no need of loud protest s^ons. 
 
rapidity of its tooreineats, and silently flowiog unseen in Ha 
 
 .9 
 
 > 
 
 I 
 
 3, 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 THE USE, BEAUTY, AND GROWTH OF TBfiES. 
 
 With sonorous notes 
 Of every tone, mixed in confusion sweet, 
 All chanted in tlig fullness of delight, 
 The forest rings; Where far around enclosed 
 With busy sidej, and cover'd high abore 
 With,foliage thick, supported by bare trunks^ 
 Like pillars rising to support the roof, 
 It seems a temple vast, the space within 
 Kings loud and clear with thrilling melody 
 
 A STRANGER traveling through almost any part of the United 
 States, would think he had met with the strangest anatomy ever 
 presented. He would have heard, no doubt, that the Ameri- 
 cans were a people of' refined taste, awake to all the beauties, 
 not only of nature, but of poetry, and romance, Jtnd yet, per- 
 haps, in a day's ride, scarcely see a tree connected with a house 
 either for beauty or for shade, much less the rich and elegant 
 groups of trees he had anticipated finding. To such a traveler 
 from almost any other civilized country, to s^e a decent country 
 house standing like a hay-stack in a meadow, the conclusion 
 would be that its inhabitants, whatever faine might have report- 
 ed of them to , the contrary, were as destitute of taste as those 
 animals of the meadow who fed upon the hay-stack.. 
 
 There is nothing in the compass of inanimate nature so inter- 
 esting as trees. They speak a language to the heart, which 
 nothing but utter insensibility can fail to understand. They 
 awaken to recollection the memory of scenes long past, not 
 only in the innocent sports of childhood, but often those of 
 deeper interest. It must be noticed by every observer, that 
 even the brute creation feel a veneration for trees. A tree is a 
 house, furniture : it may be niade clothing, and even bread. 
 " It forms part of every machine by which the genius of man 
 has taught him to lighten the labor of his hand. There is that 
 in a tree, considered as an individual work of the Creator, which 
 may well excite our attention, and most amply reward our- 
 study." For fuel, and more especially for timber, economy 
 alone, without the aid of good itaste, would, if consulted, be 
 8u£Scient to plead for the preservation of forest trees. 
 
 Ask your neighbor why he has not more trees about his 
 home, and he will tell you that they are of no great use, and 
 
 E 
 
 |- 
 
 If a thing is not decent, never do it ; if it is not true, never speak it. 
 
injurioua when used to excess. What is Fear? — A frightful 
 
 THE USE, BEAUTY, AND GROWTH OF TREES. 489 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 >. 
 
 § 
 
 J3 
 
 besides, that it is very difficult to make them grow ; that he 
 has tried it once or twice, and they have all died. Now these 
 common reasons are both ill-founded. It is of use for every 
 man to surround himself with objects of interest, to cultivate a 
 taste for the beautiful in all things, and especially in tlie works 
 of nature. It is of use for every family to have a hopie, a 
 pleasant, happy home, hallowed by purifying influences. It is 
 of use that every child should be educated, not only in the 
 sciences and arts, and dead languages, but that his affections 
 and idstes should be refined ; that the book of nature should be 
 laid open to hira ; that he should learn to read her language in 
 the flower and the leaf, written everywhere, in the valley and 
 on the hill-side, and hear it in the song of birds, and the mur- 
 muring of the forest, 
 
 If you would keep pure the heart of your child, and make 
 his youth innocent and happy, surround him with objects of 
 interest and beauty at home. ' If you would prevent a restless 
 -spirit, if you would save him from that lowest species of idol- 
 atry, " the love of money," and teach him to " love what is 
 lovely," adorn your dwelling, your places of worship, your 
 schoolrhouses, your streets and public squares, with trees, and 
 hedges, and lawns, and flowers, so that his heart may 6arly and 
 ever be impressed with the love of Hira who made them all. 
 
 Every tree, however luxuriant its branches may be, receives 
 its principal nourishment from its lower parts ; and it is proba- 
 ble that its juices circulate in a manner analogous to that of the 
 blopd in, animals. The extremities of the roots form a pro- 
 digious mass of spongy fibres and of globules of air, which are 
 constantly open to imbibe the juice which the earth affords 
 them. This juice is at first only water, impregnated with earthy 
 matter ; then, by means of a sort of milky substance, which is 
 peculiar to each tree, and which distinguishes it from others, the 
 juice acquires a nutritive quality before it ascends in those parts 
 of the tree which are elevated above the surface of the earth. 
 
 We find, by the aid of the microscope, that wood, notwith- 
 standing its hardness, is nothing more than an assemblage of an 
 infinite number of minute hollow fibres. The greater part of 
 them, especially in shrubs, ascend perpendicularly ; but m order 
 to give more consistence to these fibres, there are m certain 
 trees, particularly in such as are designed to be more strong and 
 hard, tubes which extend horizontally from the centre to the 
 circumference. Influenced by the heat of the sun, the sap rises, 
 by degrees, into the branches and into all their mmute and mul- 
 tiplied ramifications; in just the same manner as the blood 
 issuing from the heart, is carr ied by the arteries mto the most 
 
 To own yourself in an error, is to show that you are wiser than yon was. 
 
flower in the vast garden of existence, and which is 
 
 490 THE USE, BEABTV, AND GROWTH OF TREES, 
 
 I 
 
 disliint extremity of the animal body. When the sap has been 
 sufficiently diffused through all the parts which required its cir- 
 culation, the remainder of it fills certain large vessels which are 
 placed between the inner and outer bark ; and hence arises the 
 annual growth and consequent' thickness of the tree. To be 
 convinced of this, it is sufficient to cut a branch transversely, 
 by which we shall ascertain the age of the tree. 
 
 Whilst the trunk from time to time increases in height and 
 bulk, the roots continue a proportional growth, and gradually 
 strike a deeper hold, and multiply their supporting fibres. As 
 to the exterior bark, it seems destined to serve as a kind of gar- 
 ment to the tree, to unite securely together its component parts, 
 and to preserve its more delicate but essential ones from exter- 
 nal accidents, and from the inclemency of the air. 
 
 Thus has the all-wise Creator formed an admirable sys- 
 tem of solid and fluid matter in order to give life and growth to 
 those trees which adorn our plains, which lend their friendly 
 shade to our flocks, to our shepherds, and to our cottages, and 
 which afterward serve so many purposes useful to man. Here 
 we discover a wisdom which never fails, whilst it prescribes to 
 nature laws in certain respects immutable, which act without 
 interruption under the eye of Providence. A wisdom so pro- 
 found, a skill so marvelous, so many preparations and combi- 
 nations for each tree, ought to exaite us more and more fer- 
 vently to admire and venerate the creative hand. 
 
 What can be more beautiful than the trees ? — their lofty trunks, 
 august in their simplicity, asserting to the most inexperienced 
 eye their infinite superiority over the imitative pillars of man's 
 piide — their graceful play of wide-spreading branches, and all 
 the delicate and glorious machinery of buds, leaves, flowers, and 
 fruit, that with more than magical efforts burst from the naked 
 and rigid twigs with all the rich and heaven-breathing, delecta- 
 ble odors, pure and animating essences, pouring out spices and 
 medicinals, under brilliant and unimaginably varied colors, and 
 making music from the softest and most melancholy under-tonfes 
 to the full Oi;gan-peal of the tempest 1 
 
 We wonder not that trees have been the admiration of men 
 in all periods and nations of the world. What is the richest 
 country without trees? What barren and monotonous spot 
 can they not convert into . paradise ? Xerxes, in the midst of 
 his most ambitious enterprise, stopped his vast army to contem- 
 plate the beauty of a tree. Cicero, from the throng, and exer- 
 tion, and anxiety of the forum, was accustomed, Pliny tells us, 
 to steal forth to a grove of plane-trees to refresh and invigorate 
 his spirits. In the Scaptan Grove, the same author adds, Thu- 
 
 He that diesemhleth with God ia uot to be trusted by man. 
 
escape from justice, who is constantly engaged in pursuit. 
 
 THE USE, BEAUTY, AND GROWTH OF TREES. 491 
 
 cydides was supposed to Lave composed his noble histories. 
 The Greek and Roman classics, indeed, abound with expressions 
 of admiration; but above all, as the Bible surpasses, in the 
 splendor and majesty of its poetry, all boots in the world, so is 
 its sylvan arborescent imagery the most bold and beautiful. 
 
 Beneath some spreading tree is the ancient patriarch revealed 
 to us, sitting in contemplation, or receiving the visit of angels ; 
 and what a calm and dignified picture of primeval life is pre- 
 sented to our imagination at the mention of Deborah, the wife 
 of Lapidoth, judging the twelve tribes of Israel, between Raraah_ 
 ?ind Bethel, in Mount Ephraim, beneath the palm-tree of Deb- 
 orah ! The oak of Basluin and the cedar of Lebanon are but 
 other and better names for glory and power. The vine, the 
 plive, and the fig-tree are imperishable emblems of peace, plenty, 
 and festivity. David, in his Psalms ; Solomon, in his Songs and 
 Proverbs ; the prophets, in the sublime outpourings of their 
 awful inspiration ; and Christ, in his parables — those most beau- 
 tiful and perfect of all allegories — luxuriate in signs and similes 
 drawn from the fair trees of the East. 
 
 There seems to have been, in thjs country, a perfect infatua- 
 tion in cutting down trees where no possible reason can be given 
 t6r it. But when the folly has been committed, and its conse- 
 quences are beginning to be sensibly felt, what remedy can be 
 applied, if not to afford immediate relief, at least to prevent 
 posterity from sufifering by its effect ? The still small v<)ice of 
 common sense, confirmed by the example of several nations of 
 Europe, points out the remedy. 
 
 The first step is to establish nurseries, where all the most val- 
 uable trees could be obtained at moderate prices : a few would 
 avail themselves of their advantages, and the force of example 
 would soon excite the multitude to follow them, and m a few 
 years those who lived to see our dwellings, which now stand as 
 unornamental as mile-stones, tastefully surrounded by beautiful 
 trees, and their value doubled in the eye of most purchasers; 
 they would see the public roads lined with extensive rows of 
 valuable trees ; and last, farm-houses would be sheltered in their 
 situations from bleak and destructive winds, by belts of the pme 
 and fir-trees, and their cattle and sheep would find protection in 
 winter, and places of repose from summer heat. 
 
 Thou hast not left thyself to nature's round 
 
 Without a witness. Trees, and flowers, and streams, 
 
 Are social and benevolent ; and he 
 
 Who oft communeth in their language pure. 
 
 Roaming among them at the cOol of day. 
 
 Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dressed, 
 
 His Maker there, to teach his listemng heart. 
 
 OS 
 V 
 
 I 
 
 p 
 
 a 
 
 A man's truth is his livelihood, his recommendation, his letters of credit. 
 
the most anxious to solicit her favors, whilst others 
 
 fe 
 
 POST AND RAIL FENCES. 
 
 The fences on a fiirm are a heavy tax. No one, till he has 
 had experienpe or made calculation on the subject, would 
 imagine the amount. A length of good cheistnut four-rail fence 
 cannot cost less than sixty cents, besides the labor of putting it 
 up after the posts and rails are prepared. Suppose a. farm has 
 one thousand lengths, the outlay will of course be six hundred 
 dollars ; and in the same proportion for a less quantity. Hence 
 the in)portance of economy in its construction ; not, howevw, 
 in making a cheap fence so much as in making a substantial and 
 durable one. A fence that is insecure, or, from its frail and per- 
 ishable character, requires being repaired every year, and re- 
 placed every few years, is not an economical, one. 
 
 Mr. Bid die, a few years since, in an address before the Phila- 
 delphia Agricultural Society, stated that the cost of the fences 
 in Pennsylvania amounted to $100,000,000, and their annual 
 expense he estimated at $10,000,000. A distinguished writer 
 on National Wealth says, " Strange as it may seem, the great- 
 est investment in this country, the most costly production of 
 human industry, is the common fences which inclose and divide 
 the fields. No man dreams that when compared to the outlay 
 of these unpretending monuments of human art, our cities and 
 our towns, vvitli all their v^ealth, are left far behind. In many 
 places tlie fences have cost more than the fences an,d farms are 
 worth. It is this enormous burden which keeps down the agri- 
 cultural interest of this country, causing an untold expenditure, 
 besides the loss of the hind the fences occupy." 
 
 Estimating a chestnut post and rail fence to last eighteen 
 years, and including inside fencing and repairs, the awjiMaZ tax 
 to the farmer holding one liundred and fifty acres will be $130 
 to $140 ; and judging from present appearances, the tax is per^ 
 petual, and there seems but little hope of escape from it. 
 
 Jeptha Baldwin, Esq., of Orange, New Jersey, whose farm- 
 ing operations are the personification of neatness, and give evi- 
 dence of wisely-directed investment and labor, advises, tliat 
 in setting posts, the top end of the tree be placed in the ground. 
 fOthers have recommended the same thing, in the belief that 
 they will kst much longer. Mr. Preston, a judicious and expe- 
 rienced agriculturist of Stockport, Penn., has given his views at 
 large on the subject, in the New England Farmer. Some may 
 pronounce this very whimsical ; but there is certainly nothing 
 
 U 
 
 Virtue is the greatest ornament, and good sense the best equipage. 
 
of whicU gives no certain indication of the real value 
 
 a< 
 
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 .a 
 
 St 
 
 a 
 
 'a 
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 a 
 
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 I 
 '-5 
 
 O 
 
 POST AND RAIL FENCES. 493 
 
 unphilosophical ia it. On the other hand, one might think it 
 highly probable. Water will rise in a pump, but will not de- 
 scend in it. The pores of wood through which the sap or 
 moisture from the earth rises, may be on the same or an analo- 
 gous principle. If so, the top of the tree placed in the ground 
 would not absorb moisture to occasion decay, at least in the 
 same degree, as if the butt were placed downward. 
 
 Posts should be set in the ground not less than two feet, to 
 be below the action of the frost, and to be secure against the 
 action of the wind. If those parts of the posts which are 
 placed in the ground are burnt in a hot fire till quite black, they 
 would last much longer than otherwise. The best method of 
 charring the surface, of wood, is to wet it with the most highly 
 concentrated oil of vitriol. By this means, you carbonize not 
 only the outer surface, but the surface of atl the cracks and 
 holes. Some farmers cut their posts so long, and mortise them 
 in such a manner, that when the lower ends have become rot- 
 ten, they can invert them. By this means they will last nearly 
 as long as before. It is also advised that the heart side of the 
 rail be placed upward, both to increase its strength, and for 
 preservation against the influence of the weather. 
 
 It is also ascertained that the butt cuts of trees will_ decay 
 much sooner than the third and fourth cuts. Hence, m pre- 
 paring posts and rails, the butts of trees should be used for 
 rails, and the upper parts for posts. It is also found that young 
 and thrifty trees cut into posts, will decay sooner than those 
 which are old and full grown. To take advantHge of this fact, 
 let the former be used for rails, and the latter for posts. And 
 persons who purchase their posts and rails, may take advantage 
 of this hint ; for those made from the latter are worth from ten 
 to twenty per cent, more than those made from the former. 
 
 A well-known writer in the Memoirs of the Pennsylvania 
 Agricultural Society gives interesting experiments on the pres- 
 ervation of fence-posts. In 1803 he planted four gate-posts, 
 with a two-inch augur-hole bored through them, which was 
 filled with salt, and plugged at both ends As they were to 
 sipport expensive gat^ley were cased -•th boards, and som 
 salt was put inside the case near the ground. Twenty yeais 
 'afterward these posts were in the test state of preservation 
 appearing as if they would remain so half a century more, or 
 forTenerltions. The same individua has apphed salt to ches - 
 nut posts for common rail fence. The mode of it was as fol- 
 bws^: A hole with an ii,ch augur across the post diagonally one 
 side about four inches above the surface of tl^e ground and the 
 other two inches below it; the hole being filled w^hsaH^ 
 
 p. 
 
 a- 
 
 '^::^;;^^^^mmer fruit., ^-h^^ ^^enptto corrupt, and a re^oUasting^ 
 
debauchery, Inavery, poverty, theft, murder — that, like 
 
 494 POST AND RAIL FENCES. 
 
 J3 
 
 a 
 
 secured by plugs of cedar or chestnut. After ten years the 
 salt remained as at first, and the posts were perfectly sound. 
 
 The cost was a dollar a hundred posts, and a man, in boring 
 and plugging, would earn two dollars a day. This is far cheaper 
 than to put down new posts eveiy eight or ten years. If the 
 salt were to dissolve, it would pass intd the wood and prevent 
 its decay ; and it would be very easy to take but the upper 
 plug and refill the hole. A judicious farmer, on viewing'these 
 posts, observed he could see no reason why the salt should not 
 preserve wood, when it would preserve so perishable a vegeta- 
 ble as cabbage for a long period of years. And it is known 
 that ship-builders fill the spaces between the timbers of a ves- 
 sel with salt, to preserve their soundness. Also, timbers de- 
 signed for permanency in expensive buildings on land are some- 
 times saturated with salt, being immersed in sea^water for years, 
 prior to being used. 
 
 The cost of making and keeping in repair of farm fences is 
 enormous, almost beyond the power of calculation, and forces 
 the inquiry, whether legislatures ought not to be called upcin 
 to compel every man to keep his stock to himself. Then no 
 man, who did not choose to do it, would be forced to inclose 
 his land against the ravages of his neighbor's stock. 
 
 The system of compelling every landholder to inclose his 
 property is peculiar to the United States, with only the excep- 
 tion of England, where the fence nuisance appears again under 
 the form of the hedge ; and although these hawthorn hedges, 
 when they are well tended — and not more than half of them 
 are so — are beautiful objects, and answer all the purposes of 
 protection against the inroads of cattle, still the public voice is 
 beginning to cry out against them, because of the enormous 
 amount of land required to support them. Each hedge is five 
 or six feet wide at its base, and taking into account the amount 
 of land they exhaust on either side, the whole space cannot be 
 less than twelve or fourteen feet wide. When it is recollected 
 that the divisions and subdivisions of land in England are very 
 numerous, the amount of arable land abstracted from the pur- 
 poses of agrfculture is very great. It has been estimated at' 
 several million bushels of grains 
 
 There ia but one solid pleasure in life, and that is our duty. 
 
the absence of it is compensated by the lustre of the moon 
 
 J 
 
 4^ 
 
 to 
 
 PROFITS OF THE COW. 
 
 It is one of the paradoxes in rural economy, that so little at- 
 tention is generally paid to the profits of an animal whose milk 
 constitutes a large portion, in some form or other, of human diet 
 and luxury. To the poor, as an article of food, it is ahout iis 
 necessary as bread; and to the rich, in the form of cream or 
 butter, it is deemed indispensable. When a poor family is de- 
 prived of this healthy and nutritious aliment of life, it excites 
 the most fervent sympathy in all knowing the fact. And it is 
 very frequently imagined, that if only possessed of an ample 
 supply of milk, there can be no absolute suffering for the want 
 of food. It is, therefore, one of the first aspirations of a newly- 
 organized family in the country, to be provided with one or 
 more cows. In default of this provision, every other one will 
 be found inadequate to the wants of the family. It is at the 
 very foundation of domestic comfort and thrift. . 
 
 It. is a fair estimate, that in this republic, three cows, on an 
 average, are required, for each family, to furnish milk, cream, 
 butter, and cheese, for the whole population. That is none too 
 many. Hence, the number of cows kept in the country must 
 be in the range of ten millions ; and, if valued at twenty dollars 
 each, which is the worth of a very common animal, will make 
 an element of national wealth equal to two hundred millions of 
 dollars. The cost of keeping them in the most common way 
 will be twenty dollars each, annually ; or two hundred millions 
 of dollars, annually, for the whole. The milk on the farm 
 where produced, may be estimated at two cents a quart ; and 
 if each cow furnishes a yield of one thousand quarts only in the 
 year*, the milk is just an equivalent for the feed, so that there is 
 neither profit nor loss in the keeping of such cows, Hence, on 
 the score of gain or loss, it matters not to the farmer whether 
 he keep five or twenty of them, for in neither case dees he 
 make or lose money by the operation. Were it not for the con- 
 venience of having the milk, butter, and cheese from his own 
 premises, he might as well purchase the articles as to produce 
 them. Moreover, if the cost of keeping the cow were more 
 than twenty dollars, per year, or if she is so inferior as a milker 
 as not to yield the quantity supposed, there is an absolute loss 
 in keeping her. In either case, the two hundred millions of i 
 
 A great fortune i« the hands of a fool is a great misfortune. 
 
the shore, where the sun haa the power of warming the 
 
 496 PROFITS OF THE COW. 
 
 •fe^ 
 
 dollars invested in cows in this country is unproductive capital 
 — ^like so much bank or turnpike stock, which pays no dividend. 
 There is no doubt that many keep cows which afford no profit 
 whatever ; either because of so poor a breed, or are sjo poorly 
 fed — it matters not which. And it seems marvelously incom- 
 prehensible, that so many who keep cows, appear to think that 
 all cows are alike ; and, that the quantity of milk yielded is in 
 no way regulated by the quantity or the quality of the feed 
 given them. 
 
 Now let us suppose that each one of these ten tpillibns of 
 cows furnishes annually two thousand quarts — ^npt an extrava- 
 gant calculation ; and that it costs twenty-five dollars each 
 instead of twenty dollars for feed. In this case there is a profit 
 of fifteen dollars on each cow, so that the profit on the ten 
 millions will be one hundred and fifty millions of dollars annu- 
 ally added to our national wealth ; or, if a farmer keep ten such 
 cows, he realizes on them, annually, a profit of one hundred and 
 fifty dollars, over and above the expense of feed. Here is a 
 sum sufficient to hire a first-rate laborer from these teti cows, 
 whereas, had he kept cows of the other class named, there 
 would have been no profit ; and yet the labor of taking care of 
 them is the same as in the latter case. All, therefore, that is 
 wanted, is to induce small farmers, or others keeping cows, not 
 aware of such results depending on the quality of the animals 
 or their feed, to keep none but those of a high grade of excel- 
 lence, and then to feed in the best possible manner. One of the 
 latter class of cows is cheaper at forty dollars, than one of the 
 others at twenty dollars, because one yields an annual profit of 
 fifteen dollars, while the other yields no profit — not even a far- 
 thing. Indeed, the diflference "in the first cost, under such cir- 
 cumstances, is a matter of no merit ; it is far better, on the 
 score of interest, to -purchase the good at any fair price, than 
 to receive the other as a gift. The one is like to the purchasing 
 land so poor that nothing will grow on it beyond the cost of 
 labor, while the other is hke to owning good garden land, which 
 yields enough to pay the labor of cultivation, and perhaps a 
 hundred per cent, of profit on its cost. Or the milk of th? 
 poor cow, or a poorly-fed cow, costs the owner, it may be, four 
 cents per quart, while the milk of the prime one, well fed, will 
 cost the owner not more than half that sum. 
 
 The true policy, therefore, is, for every person, procurincr cows 
 for the profit of the milk, to purchase none but those of deci- 
 ded excellence. And, if disappointed in the use of them, find- 
 ing them inferior, instead of being such as expected, lose no 
 time in converting them into beef, or otherwise disposing of 
 
 The shortest way to be rich is by contracting our desires. 
 

 r 
 
 relaofoil; and, as the ships then employed did not exceed sixty 
 
 PROFITS OF THE COW. 497 
 
 them, though it be at a sacrifice, and procure others ia their 
 place. The loss in this iray is less than to retain them. The 
 continued loss of retaining them, is like retaining on a farm, or 
 m other occupation, hired laborers, who perform not enoiio'h 
 work to pay their board. Every farmer knows that it is for 
 cheaper to hire a prime laborer than an inferior one at a less 
 price, because it costs as much to board the latter as the former. 
 Precisely the same with cows. And if a farmer raises his cows, 
 and finds that a portion of them prove to be poor milkers, he 
 should forthwith, on the ground of interest, divest himself of 
 them, notwithstanding any feeling of attachment. Amiable as 
 the affection is which we sometimes cherish for animals reared 
 under our own supervision, it will often be found at variance 
 with our pecuniary interest, and with those principles of pohcy 
 which should guide the successful agriculturist. 
 _ And when it is found that a cow has all the natural capabil- 
 ities for a great yield of milk, let no one neglect to avail him- 
 self of the legitimate profits thus placed within his reach. 
 This he will not do, unless she be properly fed. Good cows, as 
 well as Ordinary ones, may be half starved. 4nd the extraor- 
 dinary powers of the former for yielding milk, by neglect or 
 irapropBr treatment, may be greatly reduced. If a farmer has 
 not feed enough for six cows, let him keep only three. If he 
 have not enough for four, let him keep only two. And if he 
 have not enough for two, let him keep only one. For one cow 
 of prime quality, and well fed, will yield a substantial profit ; 
 whereas, half a dozen poor ones, poorly fed, will yield no profit, 
 and it may be, will be attended with absolute loss. It is well 
 known that some cherish a piistaken pride or ambition on this 
 subject. They manifest a complacency in the idea tliat they 
 keep a certain number of cows — it may be a large number — 
 equal to that kept by some of their neighbors ; but, instead of 
 such a feeling, there is occasion for one of humiliation, if they 
 yield no profit. Complacency or pride, in a case like this, can 
 be sustained rationally only on what yield a fair business advan- 
 tage. If a man own one cow only, which affords him a net 
 gain of fifty dollars annually, he may be truly proud of that ; 
 but if he own half a dozen, and the 'feed costs him annually 
 fifty dollars more than the value of the milk they yield, it is for 
 the reader to decide whether or not he has occasion for boast- 
 
 It is not the design of this work to discuss the comparative 
 value of different breeds of stock, or even to point out what are 
 usually considered points or characteristics in cows denoting 
 good milkers. For this we refer our readers to books, of which 
 
 Xiet pleasure be ever so innocent, the excess is always criminal. 
 32 
 
of the hair tents and clothing; while for burden, it is 
 
 498 PROFITS OF THE C[OW. 
 
 there is an abundance, devoted wholly to farm animals. Allen's 
 Book of Farm Animals is one of the best we know. Every man 
 that keeps cows should own it, or some similar one. If he own 
 several of these books, it will not impoverish him; hew-ill learn 
 enough from them to pay the cost many times over. , Such 
 books for stock-gro\Vers and stock-owners are as needful as 
 spelling-books and geographies are for children sent to a 
 district school. To do without them is nearly as absurd in 
 one case as in the other. We never can expect that all the 
 profits which may be derived from rural occupation will be gen- 
 erally realized till all engaged in it feel the importance of se- 
 curing to themselves, through books or otherwise, the benefits to 
 be had from the experience of others. 
 
 Our present purpose is to satisfy the reader that there is 
 great profit in keeping good cows, if properly fed ; and, prob- 
 ably, a loss — certainly no material gairt, in keeping poor ones — 
 or neglecting properly to feed them. And to satisfy him what 
 may be realized from the former course, we shall now add in- 
 stances of profit fiom good cows under good management. 
 Hundreds, and p,erhaps thousands of instances of a similar char- 
 acter might be gathered up — enough to convince any one of tlje 
 capabilities of the animal, genei'ally, when due regard is exer- 
 cised for improvements in breeding and rearing it. Let the 
 same caution be manifest on the subject that is exercised in re- 
 lation to the breeding and rearing of horses, and we shall soon 
 witness a new era in this most important department of rural 
 enterprise. What would be thought of the man disposed to raise 
 a colt, if he paid no more attention to the stock from which it was 
 to be obtained, than is generally paid to the raising horned cat- 
 tle? If obtained from the lowest quality of stock, the value of 
 the animal, when full grown, would not half equal the cost of 
 raising it. So it would be with cows, were it not that they can 
 be converted into beef, if worthless as milkers. 
 
 The most remarkable cow of which we have any account, for 
 the production of butter, is the " Cramp cow," so called, owned 
 by a man of the name of Cramp, in Lewes, England ; she was 
 of the Sussex breed, and was calved in 1799. For five years, 
 from 1805 to 1810, the butter produced from her milk was fr6m 
 four hundred and fifty to six hundred and seventy-five pounds 
 per year ; the latter quantity was afforded in fifty-one weeks 
 and four days, from April 6th, 1807, to April 4th, 1808. The 
 greatest quantity of butter she afforded in any one week was 
 eighteen pounds ; and the greatest quantity of milk given in any 
 one day was twenty quarts. 
 
 The next most remarkable cow in this respect was the " Oakes 
 
 Praise, like gold and diamonds, owes its value only to its scarcity. 
 
^ passing in one direction, at the rate of a mile per 
 
 w 
 
 s 
 
 i 
 
 a 
 J3 
 
 PROFITS OP THE COW. 499 
 
 cOw,_. of Massachusetts ; nothing was known of her ^lood— 
 she was bought out of a drove when slie was young. Caleb 
 Oakes, of Danvers, Massachusetts, owned her while the greatest 
 quaintity of butter was made from -her. In 1813, she made 
 one hundred and eighty pounds ; in 1814, three hundred pounds ; 
 in 1815, four hundred pounds; and in 1816, four hundred,' 
 eighty-four and a quarter pounds. The greatest quantity of 
 butter made in ahy one week was nineteen and a quarter 
 pounds, and the greatest quantity of milk she gave in any one day 
 was eighteen quarts. Mr. Josiali Quincy, Senior, bought her 
 a:fter this trial by Mr. Oakes, but she never afforded so larg^ a 
 yield of butter af^ she passed into Mr. Quincy 's hands, though 
 she gave sixteen pounds per week, and her milk was of such 
 extraordinary richness, that five quarts of it frequently afforded 
 a po'und of butter. 
 
 Our third illustration is from Mr. Thomas Tufts, of Le Roy, 
 Genesee County, K Y. On the 1st of November, 1838, he 
 says, I have a cow six years old last spring. On the 29th of 
 May she brought a calf ; and on the 27th of June, I took from 
 her at three milkings, morning, noon, and night, of one day, 
 thirty-one and a h;ilf quarts of good rich measured milk, which 
 was not more than an average for the whole month. The last 
 week in July, I found that her milk failed a little, and being 
 some trouble, I stopped milking her three times a day. On the 
 last day of July, at two milkings, twenty-four quarts ; on the 
 last day of August, twenty-one and a half quarts ; on the last 
 day of September, eighteen quarts; and on the 31st day of 
 October, I took from her fifteen quarts. She had no feed but 
 that of common pasture, in which, however, was plenty of good 
 water and shade, from the 1st of June till the last of Septem- 
 ber, and lodged at night in the barn-yard. On the 1st of Oc- 
 tober she was turned into a mowing-field ; and during the last 
 week in that month was fed once a day on hay, and twice a day 
 on ruta baga tops. 
 
 In July, 1845, a writer in the Agricultuiist ?ays, I have a 
 cow that calved, about the middle of January, and is now eleven 
 years old. The calf I fattened in the following manner: the 
 first week I gave it one teat ; the second week, two ; afterward, 
 three. The calf was sold for nearly six dollars ; and in the 
 mean time, milk to the amount of $1 15. Since that time, I 
 have realized for milk sold between fourteen and fifteen dollars ; 
 making the profit of the cow, thus far, the present year, nearly 
 |23, besides what I used in my own family, consisting of eight 
 persons. Dr. Woodward informed the editor of the same jour- 
 nal that he had a cow which, in the year 1844, gave one 
 
 I 
 
 (V 
 
 A generous, virtuous man, lives not to the world, but to his own conscience. 
 
sumption of national wealth; tbe effect of those insti- 
 
 500 PROFITS OF THE COW. 
 
 thousand and fifty gallons of milk, which, at four cents a quart, 
 would amount to $168. He also had, on the Hospital Farm, 
 Worcester, Mass., several other cows nearly as good. And 
 William Cushman, of New Braintree in that State, says, July 
 14th, 1845, 1 have a cow which has given, for ten days in June, 
 from fifty-four and a half to sixty-three pounds of milk per 
 day. She was one-fourth of the Durham breed. 
 
 Peter H. Schenck, formerly a merchant of New York, but 
 having a country residence in Dutchess County, in October, 
 1843, says, My cow Emma was nine years old last spring ; and 
 till the summer of 1842 I never kept her milk separate from 
 that of three other cows I have. Then I made the experiment 
 for one week, during which she gave eighteen quarts per day, 
 and the milk made fifteen pounds of butter. On the 21st of 
 the following May, that is, 1843, he renewed the experiment, 
 and for the three w«eks ensuing she made sixty-five and a half 
 pounds of butter. On the 15th of June, that same year, 
 the milk that came from her was churned by itself, and the 
 butter weighed three pounds eight ounces. The next day her 
 butter weighed three pounds four ounces. 
 
 In 1843, a gentleman in the neighborhood of Troy, New 
 Yo^'k, says, George Vail, Esq., of that city, was the owner of 
 two cows only, one a full-blooded Durham, seven or eight years 
 old, and the other four years old, seven-eighths Durham. He 
 kept an accurate account of their milk and butter for thirty 
 days. The result was as follows : one hundred and eight 
 pounds of butter, besides supplying a family of five persons 
 with new milk and cream for ordinary family use, and nine 
 quarts of new milk daily for a calf. The average weight of 
 milk per day, from the oldest cow, was sixty-eight pounds, a!nd 
 from the other, sixty pounds, during the thirty days. In the 
 same year, Judge Walbridge, of Ithaca in that State, had a 
 cow that gave in the seven days ending June 24th, th]'ee hun- 
 dred and ninety-five pounds ten ounces of milk, being an aver- 
 age of fifty-six and a half pounds per day, or twenty-eight and 
 a half quarts per day. She had made two pounds one ounce 
 per day, when two quarts of the milk was laken for family use. 
 And the Rev. William Wisner, in the same neighborhood, had a 
 cow that in May of the same year made forty-seven pounds of but- 
 ter, and supplied two families with new milk daily during the time. 
 
 Among the more recent statistics of the dairy, the two follow- 
 ing are selected. The first is from the Exeter News Letter, 
 which says, Mr. Abraham Rowe, of Kensington, N. H., has a 
 cow he raised from an Eastern breed, six years old, from which 
 was made, between the 20lh of May and the 20th of October, 
 
 He that talks all he knows, will be likely to talk more than he knows. 
 
desired for the gratification of human wants ; and which 
 
 PROFITS OF THE COW. goi 
 
 1849, one hundred and fifty-six pounds of butter, averaging 
 over one pound a day from pasture feed only. It being his only 
 oovr, furnished his family with their cream and milk besides. 
 The second is from the Farmer and Mechanic, which says the 
 best cow now in the United States is probably owned near Ge- 
 neva, N. Y., which, through the month of June, 1849, gave 42 
 quarts of milk per day ; and for five days, stie gave 45 quarts 
 per day. The cow is half Durham and half of the native breed. 
 
 The Somerset Messenger, New Jersey, contahis a communi- 
 cation from J. W. Van Arsdale, stating the profits of a half- 
 blooded Durham cow owned by him, for ten months from the 
 1st of April, 1849, to the 1st of February following. He sold 
 in that time to the retailer 3022 quarts, at 2 and 2^ cents a 
 quart, amounting to $70 51, besides reserving a sufficient quan- 
 tity for the use of his family of eleven persons, and about two 
 messes of milk twice a week for baking purposes. The 3022 
 quarts were sold by the retailer at double the price he gave for 
 it, that is, for $141 02. He calcuktes that this amount of milk 
 would have made 302 pounds of butter, which, at 20 cents a 
 pound, amounts to $60 40. The cow has not had extraordinary 
 care — having had two quarts of oat and corn meal per day du- 
 ring the drought last summer, and three quarts last spring be- 
 fore grass and this winter. And a farmer in Essex county, in 
 that State, realized during twelve months previous to February 
 1st, 1850, a net profit of $456 09 from three ordinary cows — 
 animals of the common breed of the country — that in most other 
 hands would not probably much more than have paid for their 
 keeping. As it is, they have supplied the family with all their 
 milk and cream, paid for tlieir keeping in full, as appears by a 
 minute daily account, and yielded the above-named profit of 
 $456 09.' 
 
 It is. unnecessary to gather up more similat- cases. Our agri- 
 cultural journals are filled with them. Now suppose a farmer 
 resolve that he would keep no cow that did not hold out a good 
 milker nine months in the year ; and that did not give sixteen 
 quarts of milk per day for two months after calving, twelve 
 quarts per day foi- the next four months, six quarts per day for 
 the next three months, and two quarts per day for the following 
 month. Such a cow would yield per annum 3000 quarts of 
 milk, which, at four cents a quart, would be $120. Consider- 
 ing the cases above given, is not this feasible ? With such ct)ws, 
 what if if does cost five or ten dollars a year more to keep them 
 than is ordinarily expended for the purpose ? May not such 
 cows be raised ? No matter if they do cost fifty or sixty dol- 
 lars each ; they soon pay for themselves. 
 
 That civility is best which excludes all superfluous formality. 
 
the soil, and adding to the natural food in vegeta- 
 
 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 •I 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 -a 
 
 ■w 
 
 .3 
 
 If the various (nodes of obtaining this object were resorted to 
 at once throughout the country, there would be a vast improve- 
 ment in a very short time. No young animal of promising ap- 
 pearance for milk would go to the butcher. More care would 
 be taken of young stock. More young stock would be retained 
 to ensure a better selection for milk cows. Farmers would think 
 more of the advantages of employing the improved breed. 
 Heifers would be milked with great care and very thoroughly, 
 to get them in the habit of holding out longer as milkers. If 
 they once dry early, no care and keeping will afterward correct 
 the fault. Heifers with the first calf especially should be well 
 fed, and with some additional care, the last three months they 
 are in milk, to make them hold out. 
 
 It is supposed that, a milk cow of medium quality, in this part 
 of the country, will give twelve quarts of milk for two months 
 lifter calving, seven quarts per day on grass for the next four 
 months, four quarts per day for the following two months, and 
 perhaps two quarts per day for one month more ; making alto- 
 gether 1^00 quarts in the year. 
 
 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 The number of swine at present in the United States may 
 be fairly estimated at 20,000,000, which, at three dollars per 
 head, gives us the enormous amount of 160,000,000 invested in 
 this article alone. There are in the single State of Ohio over 
 2,000,000, and more than 500,000 have been slaughtered in 
 Cijicinnati in one season. 
 
 FroBi tlje rapid production and quick maturity of swine, they 
 are iqade to yield a speedy return for the investment. The 
 number of old and young annually slaughtered in this country 
 probably does pot fall below 10,000,000, worth in market an 
 average of at least five dollars each, giving us an annual return 
 of $50,000,000 — our swine crop thus yielding an amount about 
 equaling our entire cotton crop. Almost every man has hi? 
 pig,i«?rhile a comparatively small number have their cotton- 
 fields. Nearly every one, therefore, has an interest in swine, and 
 but few have an interest in the production of cotton. Yet cot- 
 ton occupies a large share of public attention, while swine are 
 scarcely noticed. 
 
 Let yoqr recreations be manly, moderate, seasonable, and lawftil. 
 
.a 
 
 ■wjich each part and every link is useful and 
 
 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 503 
 
 The flesh of swine furnishes more than half the meat ooa- 
 sumed by the laboring portion of the Union, including those 
 employed in the. mihtary and marine service and our merchant 
 vessels. When, from the best breeds, well fattened and well 
 cured, pork forms one of the most nutritive, as it is the most 
 popular of our meats. None is so highly relished, and on none 
 caa a greater amount of labor be performed than on sweet, 
 corned pork. It enters into a countless number of dishes, 
 either as flesh or lard, imparting richness, flavor, and nutrition 
 to all. And the juicy, delicious, corn-fed, well-prepared bacon 
 is generally an acceptable dish on every table, saving on a Jew's 
 or a Mohammedan's. But the use and value of swine are not 
 limited to food. Their carcasses are of vast and increasing im- 
 portance in the useful and mechanical arts. 
 
 When pork is abundant and cheap, large quantities of it are 
 converted into lard and oil. This is done not only with the more 
 exclusively fatty portion of the meat, but frequently the whole 
 carcass is placed in a steam bath, and all the oily particles are 
 extracted. This, however, is purer when the skin is first taken 
 off; that part yielding a more glutinous, viscid oil, or fat, than 
 the remainder. When thus removed, the skin affords a portion 
 of inferior oil, and is afterward converted into a leather, valua- 
 ble for the saddle and for other pui-poses. The bristles are used 
 for brushes, and the bones are made to afi'ord some profit by 
 being first reduced to charcoal, in whicli condition it is known 
 as ivory black, and is extensively used by sugar refiners and 
 others. 
 
 The lard may be subjected to a pressure, which separates it 
 into two substances, widely differing from each other, one being 
 a pure oil, limpid in all weathers, and known as olein ; the other 
 a compact substance resembling the best mutton tallow, and 
 melting only when exposed to considerable heat. Both are 
 equally suited to the purpose of illumination, the former in 
 lamps, the latter as candles. Extensive use is made of the oil 
 for mtehinery, and none is found (from its purity and freedom 
 from gummioess) to answer a better purpose by lessening fric- 
 tion. 
 
 Such being the value of swine to our domestic comforts and 
 Bationai products, every item of information that enables us to 
 avoid disease, produce thrift, and augment their value, if intel- 
 ligently and judiciously carried into practice, will produce a vast 
 aggregate of annual profit to pork-raisers throughout the country, 
 i The above paragraph's are from the American Agriculturist, ' 
 and present the facts given in a strong light. The magnitude 
 of the interest to which they relate shows the importance of. 
 
 a 
 f 
 S. 
 
 s 
 
 I 
 r 
 
 The use of recreation is to strengthen your labor >iad sweeten your rest. 
 
Stocking Club, ip which females were admitted ; and 'so 
 
 504 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 more attention being paidjifto it than is usual with the generality 
 of pork-growers. To each one the amount is not, indeed, large, 
 but the aggregate to those not familiar with the statistics on the 
 subject is seen to be almost incredibly large, i The evils to be 
 remedied lie ii^ithin a, small compass. They originate in th^ 
 neglect of procuring ^improved breeds of the animal, and in 
 adopting the best modes of giving feed, particularly in the pro- 
 cess of fattening. The natural habits of swine tend to the de- 
 terioration df the stock, and unless the cwvner annually counter- 
 acts this tendency, before he is aware of it, he may find it has 
 been radically changed for the worse. On this account, some 
 breeds which were formerly known to possess points of great 
 excellence, at present can scarcely be found possessing distinc- 
 tive attributes. This is true of the Mackay breed, produced 
 by judicious crossings, under the supervision of the eminent 
 merchant whose name they bore ; and it may be, and doubtless 
 is true of many others produced in a similar way, and then suf- 
 fered to become extinct by neglect. 
 
 It is believed that the feeling is by no means of limited ex- 
 tent, that all hogs are fundamentally alike, both in regard to, 
 the size which they may reach, as well as to the quality of the 
 meat. But skillful pork-growers will assure you that some 
 breeds, with a given amount of expenditure in feed, will yield 
 double the amount of flesh and lard that can be realized from 
 others ; that it is far better to purchase the former at fair prices, 
 than to receive the latter as a gift. And they will assure you, 
 that there is seemingly as much difference in the quality of the 
 meat furnished by different breeds, as there may be between 
 that of the horse and the ox, or the dog and the calf. In 
 some, the color of the lean will be dark, the grain coarse, and 
 the flavor strong ; while that of others will be nearly as white 
 as the breast of a turkey, tender like a young, fat chicken, and 
 the flavor most agreeable to the cultivated taste. Facts like 
 these s.hould commend themselves to every pork-grower who 
 prefers delicate and rich food to that which is unsavory and less 
 nutritious ; or who desires to make his pork cost him only two 
 or three cents a pound, instead of four, five, or six ! If the 
 quality of the meat is of no consequence, we might as well do- 
 mesticate the buzzard and the owl, as to keep on our farms the 
 hen and the turkey. 
 
 Farmers cannot well determine what their pork does cost ; 
 but they will be likely to tell you it costs more than they can 
 sell it for. Mechanics who keep hogs will say the same. To 
 elicit the attention of such, we will present a few statistics on 
 the Subject, selected almost at random from agricultural jour- 
 
 There are but few who know how to be idle and innocent. 
 

 
 .-^rtv*^. .1^^: 
 
 
i-mg8 of gold, so tliat granting a license for any person 
 
 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. fio5 
 
 nalsand commol|-|ewspapers. The first is from the Boston 
 Cultivator, of sixteen hogs owned by sixteen different individu- 
 als in tlie town of Cliesterfield, Massachusetts, recently slaugh- 
 tered. The weight of the sixteen was 9207 pounds, giving an 
 average to each hog of five hundred and seventy-six pounds • 
 the smallest was five hundred and two, and the largest seven 
 hundred and twenty-five pounds. With inferior animals and 
 defective feed, such results would never have been witnessed. 
 
 In 1845, Mr. Samuel Cook, of Goshen, Ct., slauglitered a 
 pig only eight months and twenty-four days old, whichweighed, 
 when dressed, 472 pounds, being a gain, he says, of more than 
 a pound and twelve ounces per day during the life of the pig. 
 It was fed on corn meal and kitchen slops. He paid for it, 
 when weighing twenty-five pounds, $2 50, and the corn given 
 to it cost him $16 00. so that the pork cost him a little less than 
 four cents per pound— less than two-thirds its mercantile value. 
 In the fall of the saine year, John and Samuel Foot, of Brad- 
 ford, of the same State, killed four pigs, two of which were nine 
 months and twenty days old, and the other two were nine 
 months and twenty-eight days old, whose dressed weight was 
 401, 419, 423, and 473 pounds. They were from a Berkshire 
 cross. 
 
 Mr. John S. Yedmans, of Columbia, Ct., April 24, 1847, 
 says, I believe there were about twenty hogs slaughtered in this 
 town last fall and winter, which weighed over five hundred 
 pounds each, and also the same number of pigs that weighed 
 over three hundred pounds each, and some of them weighing 
 near four hundred pounds, at eight and nine months old. The 
 largest of the hogs weighed six hundred and sixty pounds, and 
 the next largest six hundred and thirty-six ; six of them making 
 an average for each of five hundred and ninety-one and one- 
 third pounds each. ' The above will do for Connecticut. 
 
 The next will be from Pennsylvania. The PIough]poy, of 
 I Newton, in that State, March 22, 1847, says, we give the weight 
 of some hogs of the Chester county breed, so called, which have 
 been in such great demand in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, 
 and some of which have been sent to a great distance. Franklin 
 Comly, Esq., slaughtered one on the 25th of February, which 
 weighed six hundred and seventy-eight pounds ; William S. 
 Doran slaughtered one in January which weighed six hundred 
 and forty pounds ; William Janney slaughtered one in February 
 which weighed seven hundred and four pounds ; and Levi Buck- 
 man, Esq., slaughtered one in March which weighed seven hun- 
 dred and seven pounds ; making an average of six hundred and 
 eighty-two pounds each. All four of them had been kept for 
 
 ■§ 
 
 He who resigns the world is in constant possession of a serene mind. 
 
 1 -' 
 
 J 
 
Burrounding fluid will be ai severe, that & quantity of 
 
 
 606 SWINE IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 breeding purposes, and were twenty-one months old ; the three 
 first males, remaining in their natural state till the spring ser- 
 vice-time of 1846 was over, and the other a sow, wliioh raised in 
 that year a litter of pigs. Under analogous circumstances, a 
 gentleman of Albany in that season slaughtered three hogs — '■ 
 one a barrow, weighing seven hundred and eighteen pounds ; 
 one a sow, which the previous summer raised a litter of pigs, 
 weighing five hundred and twenty-four pounds, and the other a 
 Berkshire hog, weighing five hundred and sixteen pounds. 
 
 A few years since, George W. Gibbons, of Zanesville, Ohio, 
 killed four hogs, varying from thirteen to nineteen months of age, 
 whose aggregate weight was two thousand and forty-two pounds. 
 They were a cross Leicester breed. About the same time, 
 Messrs. A. and W. Sprague, of Rhode Island, had two hogs, 
 about two and a half years old, supposed to be nearly pure 
 Berkshires, which weiglied alive twelve hundred pounds each. 
 Tiie Agricultural Society of that State gave premiums for them. 
 Mr. Spilraan, of Carroll county, Ky., slaughteied nine full-blood- 
 ed Berkshire pigs, of one litter, twenty months and six days old, 
 which weighed, having had no extra feed or care, three thou- 
 sand four hundred and twenty-nine pounds. In 18i4, Mr. 
 Thompson, of Ithaca, had two which, on January 2d, weighed 
 alive thirteen hundred and forty-seven pounds, and on the 15th 
 of the same month, thirteen hundred and ninety pounds, show- 
 ing an increase, in thirteen days, of forty-three pounds — being 
 twenty-one and a half pounds each. Mr. G. B. Green, of Wind- 
 sor, Vt., on the 1st of January, 1844, slaughtered a pig nine 
 months and one week old, which weighed three hundred and 
 sixty pounds. In a few hours we might collect hundreds of 
 hogs similar to those enumerated ; but these are sufficient to 
 show the capabilities of the animal. 
 
 Few are thankfal for advice they are forward to give. 
 
thp effects produced. Some render their ohildrea callous by 
 
 f 
 
 
 I- 
 
 I 
 
 S 
 
 i 
 
 OXEN FOR FARM TEAMS. 
 
 TIhb relative economy of using oxen or liorses for the work of 
 a farm has been frequently discussed ; but, as we believe, with- 
 out presenting many facts which should be consideied in decid- 
 ing ibe question. Perhaps it may be assumed tliat on an aver- 
 age a span of horses costing two hundred dollars will last ten 
 y«ars, and then be worthless. Tlie interest on this sum ten 
 years, at mx per cent., will be one hundred and twenty dollars. 
 ,Ajjd the keeping and shoeing a span of horses cannot be less 
 than one hundred and fifty dollars per annum, or fifteen hundred 
 dcdlars in the ten years. The whole will be to the farmer a cost 
 of eighteen hundred and twenty dollars for the entire period, 
 or one hundred and eighty-two dollars annually. A prime yoke 
 of Qxen will cost one hundred dollars; the interest on this sum 
 ten years will be sixty dollars, and the feed seventy dollars a 
 year, or seven hundred dollars for the whole time ; malting in 
 all eight hundred and sixty (dollars. But the oxen, at the end 
 of the time, will be worth sixty dollars for beef, so that the cost, 
 when the latter sum is deducted, will be eight hundred dollars; 
 jess by one thousand and twenty dollars than the cost of a span 
 of horses. It may be remarked, that the oxen should not be 
 kept at work ten years. Five or six years is long enough ; but 
 the wear will not average, especially in their prime, more than 
 four per cent., $40, in the time, though changed once or more 
 in the period. 
 
 The above estimates cannot be far from the reality. If so, 
 the labor of a span of horses on a farm must be worth one hun- 
 dred dollars annually more than that of a prime yoke of oxen, 
 Qr there is a gain in favor of the latter, the amount of which is 
 to be regulated by the difference in the annual value of the labor 
 of the two. True, there is some work to be done on a farm 
 which cannot be done by oxen. A horse is also needed for the 
 family. It is necessary, therefore, to keep at least one good 
 horse on a farm, if the main dependence for labor is on oxen; 
 Probably the cost of a yoke of oxen and a horse for the pei-iod 
 of ten years is about the same as that of a span of horses. And 
 if a farm is sufffciently large, or if there can be other uses for 
 them, it is perhaps advisable that a span of horses be kept in 
 addition to oxen. The next five paragraphs are copied from the 
 Albany Cultivator. *' 
 
 A common, and perhaps the prominent objection urged 
 
 If you would be rich, thiak of sayiog as well as getting. 
 
hood, although we appear, indeed, to be more occupied in 
 
 508 OXEN FOR FARM TEAMS. 
 
 to 
 
 against the use of oxen is, that they are constitutionally slow of 
 motion, and not to be depended upon in the oftentimes hurrying 
 operations of the farm. As oxen are usually handled, there is 
 something in the objection; it is believed, however, the fault is 
 not a constitutional one, but the effect of injudicious training. 
 
 The common method of breaking steers tends to make their 
 movements slow. They are usually put into the yoke when 
 two or three years old, and fastened at once to an old yoke of cat- 
 tle, rendered slothful by labor or habit, where they are worked 
 until " broken," and forced to accommodate their movements to 
 the tardy motion of the team that controls them. After hav- 
 ing been tamed, and rendered obedient in this way, they are 
 usually put to labor quite too severe for their age and strength, 
 and soon become " broken " in spirit. It is not strange that 
 under such treatment oxen are sluggish in their movements. 
 By judicious training, oxen, as well as horses, can be taught to 
 travel in any gait desirable for farm labor ; and any one unac- 
 quainted with the effects of careful training, with reference to 
 rapidity of movement, will be astonished to see the difference 
 produced. 
 
 The Devon breed of cattle has ever been esteemed for its 
 working qualities, being excelled in speed at the plough, or even 
 upon the road, by but few horses ; and in their native country, 
 it is said they are not unfrequently trotted, with an empty wagon, 
 at the rate of six miles per hour. From this valuable stock 
 many of the working oxen of New England are believed to have 
 sprung — their color, form, and action betraying their origin. 
 Although the bulls of this breed are generally light, and the 
 cows rather §mall, the oxen are large, furnishing all the size 
 necessary and proBtable for the yoke, and falling little, if any, 
 behind their moi-e pretending rivals at the shambles. 
 
 Well-directed experiments have demonstrated, that with 
 proper treatment and training, the difference in speed between 
 horses and oxen, in farm labor, is very little. Sir John Sinclair, 
 in his account of systems of husbandry in the improved districts 
 of Scotland, when giving the experience of practical farmers on 
 this subject, says that the ox teams upon the farms in Wooden 
 and Mellendean, when, along with the horse ploughs, never lose a 
 turn. The issue of ploughing matches throughout the country 
 has, it is believed, established the fact, that oxen can plough a 
 given space of ground as quick and as well as horses. While 
 oxen are more or less used in farming operations in the vicinity 
 where I reside, custom has entirely driven them from employ- 
 mentln transporting goods upon the public roads. I suppose 
 the alleged slowness of motion of the ox has led to.his disuse in 
 
 What maiDtains one vice would bring up two children. 
 
uneasy and clamorous ; tlie ravens shoot through the air, or sport 
 
 OXEN FOR FARM TEAMS. 509 
 
 I 
 
 this particular. In the early history of this county, when the 
 roads hence to the Hudson River were new, passing through 
 forests and surmounting many of the steepest hills, my father, 
 in his business, employed heavy ox-teams, as well upon the 
 roads as in his farming and lumbering operations. I find, upon 
 examination of his papers, that his ox teams, heavily loaded 
 going and returning, made their trips to Catskill, a distance of 
 sixty-six miles, in six days, frequently in Jive days, or traveling 
 twenty-two miles per day. 
 
 Horse-teams consume, mi an average, the same length of time 
 how, traveling over roads for the most part carefully graded 
 and well worked — ^roads ten miles a day easier for a team than 
 those in use from 1800 to 1812. The heavy six-horse teams 
 traveling upon the National Road make but fifteen miles a day. 
 Ex-Governor Hill, of New Hampshire, in a letter upon the use 
 of oxen in the lumbering business of Maine, says : " I have at 
 this time cattle of my. own raising, which have been taught to 
 step quick, and having worked in the same team with horses, 
 will, side by side, travel as fast, and plough as much in a day 
 as the same number of horses. A pair of these oxen will turn 
 over, with a plough that carries twelve inches, of the last year's 
 corn or potato ground, or easy stubble-land, from one and a 
 half to two acres in a day, working eight hours, four in the fore- 
 noon and four in the afternoon. Oxen well fed with hay and a 
 portion of Indian corn or meal will, in the heat of summer, 
 stand it to work daily from eight to ten hours." 
 
 A writer in the Agriculturist says, when I was present at 
 the Cayuga County Cattle Show, October, 1845, I saw a very 
 superior yoke of working oxen. The owner informed me that he 
 had put in fifty acres of spring and fall crops of grain with them 
 the past season ; some of the land for which had been ploughed 
 three times, and that this yoke of cattle had done the whole, 
 besides hauling his hay and grain from the field to tlie barn 
 during harvest-time. Will not this demonstrate the value of 
 ox labor ? 
 
 Since giving our own speculations on this subject, in the first 
 two paragraphs of the chapter, we have glanced an eye upon a 
 statement made by a member of the Farmers' Club, Gloucester, 
 England, in 1843, which corresponds so well with what we have 
 said, we now transcribe the substance of it. He says he was 
 convinced, from the experience of four years, carefully made, 
 that for farm labor, with the exception of carting, oxen were su- 
 perior to horses. He found that a team of four oxen could 
 plough as much, and with as much ease, as three horses could ; 
 the cost of the former not exceeding £12 per head, while the 
 
 Beware of little expenses— a small leak will sink a great ship. 
 
while the money expended in the tfnited Kingdom in strong 
 
 a 
 
 i=q 
 
 510 OXEN FOR FARM TEAMS. 
 
 latter would cost £25 per head. The cost of mainteijance was 
 decidedly in favor of -the former — for while»his horses cost him 
 seven shillings a week per head, his oxen did not cost him more 
 than four shillings. He usually began to work his steers *heh 
 they were two years old, and found them capable of ploughing 
 an acre a day throughout the year, if required ; and setting 
 aside the saving in the first outlay, maintenance, harness, and 
 attendance, which was very considerable, the sale of the oxen 
 produced on an average a profit of four pounds a head per annum. 
 He therefore strongly recommended that on all arable farms, 
 requiring two or more teams, one half should be oxen. 
 
 The experience of Mr. Van Volkenburgh, of Columbia county, 
 IST. Y., is similar, and his statistics are more full. He says, June 
 24, 1846, to satisfy myself, I commenced, one year ago last 
 April, to keep an exact account of the work done, and of the 
 amount of food given to one pair of hbrses, and one yoke of 
 oxen, on a farm of one hundred acres of tillable land — setting 
 down every Saturday night the number of miles traveled, the 
 number of days worked, and the amount and kind of food con' 
 sumed during the week. The following is the result. 
 
 The horses traveled 667 miles double; 2151 miles single ; 
 worked on the farm 59| days double, 36| days single. Allow- 
 ing 40 miles travel to be a day's work for a team, it would make 
 121 days the whole amount performed by one pair of horses in 
 one year ; which, at $1 75 a day, would amount to 1211. They 
 were fed, during that time, 105 bushels of oats, which, at 60 
 cents per bushel, amounts to $42 ; 47 bushels of corn, at 70 
 cents, $33; five. months pasture, at $3 per month, $15; two 
 months hay, at $4 per month, $8 ; three months on cut straw, 
 worth about $5 ; expenses of shoeing, $8 ; wear of wagon and 
 harness, $10; decrease in value of horses, $20; making in all, 
 $141 ; which deducted from $211, leaves a net profit of $70. 
 
 The oxen in that time did 100| days' \vork — which, at $1 25 
 a day, amounts to $125 62 ; were fed 12 bushels of corn, which, 
 at 70 cents, is $8 40 ; six months pasture, at $2 50 per month, 
 $15; three months hay, at $3 50 a month, $10 50; three 
 months straw, $7 50 ; wefjr of cart, $3 ; making in all $44 40 ; 
 leaves a net profit of $81 22; making a balance of $11 12, in 
 favor of the oxen. And if the oxen were worth as much per 
 day as the horses — said by Mr. Skinner to be the fact — the bal- 
 ance would be, in favor of the oxen, sixty-one dollars. 
 
 It is too plain to need illustration, that no wise farmer Will 
 keep feeble, badly-broken, or worn-out oxen, requiring two yoke 
 to perform the labor of one yoke ; in other words, requiring a 
 day to do the labor which ought to be done in h'alf a day. If 
 
 Early to bed and early to rise, make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 
 
population 18 sparse, the clilldren have not the privileges 
 
 WAGONS AND CARTS FOR FARMS. fin 
 
 ^ 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 'i 
 
 he does, their maintenance will exceed the value of their labor; 
 they will yield no Jjrofi!, ; they will eat more than they earn, 
 besides wasting halrof the time of the driver. The best oxen 
 are the cheapest, without regard to original cost. 
 
 We plough the furrow, and draw the loaded cart, 
 And die that ;ou may live. 
 
 WAGONS AND CARTS FOR FARMS. 
 
 A FARMER in England, named Edward B.Liddington, has pro- 
 duced a prize essay on the comparative merits of wagons and 
 carts, which deserves attention; for, if he is right, our farmers 
 in general are wrong. After five years' experience with wagons, 
 and nearly the same with one-horse carts, on a farm of one hun- 
 dred and seventy acres of arable land, and eighty acres of pas- 
 ture, he came to the conclusion that the carts were of the, greater 
 advantage. As our farmers mostly use wagons, let them pay 
 some attention to his statement. He says— I have no light 
 ploughing land, nor have I more than twenty or thirty acres of 
 very heavy land. I will, therefore, relate my actual experience. 
 In the employment of wagons and the old broad-wheeled dung- 
 carts, I require one wagon, one cart, and three horses, to every 
 fifty acres of arable land. I also kept a light cart for general 
 pui'poses. Now that I am employing carts, I find that I get 
 through my work much more easily with two horses and two 
 carts to fifty acres. 
 
 In the calculation of items, his saving was near four dollars m 
 the cultivation of one acre, a year. Again, he says— It is ad- 
 mitted that one horse, attached to a given weight, will move it 
 more easily than two horses attached to double that weight. 
 This arises not only from tlie advantage gained by having all the 
 power of draught close to the work, but also, all applied at the 
 same moment, which is almost impossible where two or more 
 horses, having different wills and steps, are attached to the 
 weight ; and for the same reason, one horse will travel more 
 
 "^"when a cart is filled, there is no delay in attaching the trace- 
 horses, during which operation the one horse would be two 
 hundred yards on the road. I know this might be don e more 
 
 Handle your tools without mittens, as a cat in gloves catches no mice. 
 
Garrick has reached a richer harvest, in a single night 
 
 512 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 
 
 t 
 
 quickly by having men ready to change the horses, as is the 
 practice of opposition cqaches ; but I am speaking of the matter- 
 of-fact working of the system. Then, agafn, -when the load is 
 deposited, the one horse turns in mucli less time than the two 
 or three. These facts are too self-evident to admit contradic- 
 tion ; indeed, I believe the economy of carting manure in one- 
 horse carts is generally allowed ; but this employment of them 
 in harvesting is much objected to. In this respect, however, I 
 find them equally expeditious and economical. My actual expe- 
 rience is, that three carts, with the harvest frames attached, will 
 convey as much hay or corn in the straw as two wagons, and 
 that they are bound with ropes in the same time ; therefore, no 
 time is lost in binding. They are easier to pitch into than wag- 
 ons, and not more difficult to unload ; and all the advantages 
 are gained of speed in traveling. 
 
 My attention, says he, was first drawn seriously to the subject 
 from hiring a man to draw some stones for draining. He came 
 with a horse only fourteen hands high, and a small cart, when 
 the work he accomplished so surprised me, that I at once de- 
 cided to try two light carts, which, after succeeding well in all 
 other operations, I employed in the harvest-field ; and being 
 fully satisfied with them in this capacity, I soon discarded every 
 wagon from the farm. 
 
 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG, 
 
 The dog is the habitual tenant of the farm, and when suited 
 and trained to his peculiar duties, can be of great utility. It 
 has been said that no grazing farm is complete without this ani- 
 mal. The history of the dog is in no small measure interesting. 
 He is an unfailing friend of man, rarely selfish, and never, seem- 
 ingly, wearied in manifestations of devotion. His fidelity is incor- 
 ruptible ; his forbearing and enduring attachment, his inexhausti- 
 ble diligence, and his ardor and obedience, have been noticed and 
 eulogized from the earliest ages. The dog seems to remember only 
 the benefits which he may have received, and instead of discovering 
 resentment when he is chastised, exposes himself to torture, and 
 even licks the hand from which it proceeds. Without the aid 
 of this almost reasoning animal, how could man have resisted 
 the attacks of the savage and ferocious tenants (^ the forest, or 
 
 At the worbing-man'a house hunger looks in, but never enters. 
 
(O 
 
 I 
 
 o 
 D 
 
 1? 
 
 oar 
 M . 
 
 > - o 
 
 6 i 
 
 il 
 
 cut 
 
 o S 
 
 Q6 
 
 ;5_. 
 
88 
 
 joys and a pillow to our pains ; it height^a the zest of our 
 
 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 513 
 
 "S 
 
 hgve procured sustenance in those ages of the world when agri- 
 culture was unknown ? 
 
 More flexible and docile than any other animal, the dog is not 
 only instructed in a short time, but even conforms himself to the 
 notions, manners, and habits of those who exercise authority over 
 him. He even catches something of the domestic features of the 
 family to which he belongs ; with the great, apparentte^isdain- 
 ful to those that approach him — while iii the midsTCof rustic 
 simplicity he. manifests a corresponding measure of familiarifcy.4 
 Ordinarily he pays no attlhtion to indifl'erent persons, bulif is 
 always ready to declare war on such as evince a suspicious 
 character. When the care of the house or any other propjprty 
 is entrusted to the watch-dog, particularly in the night, he be- 
 comes fiery, and sometimes ferocious ; scenting strangers afar, 
 oflf; and, if they happen to stop, or attempt to commit any dep- 
 redation, he flies to oppose them, and, by reitera tod barkings 
 and cries of passion, gives the alarm. As furious a^inst men 
 of prey as against devouring animals, he flies upon them, ajid 
 seizes what they are attempting to steal ; but, content with hav- 
 ing conquered, he rests himself on the spoils, and will not touch 
 it, even to satisfy his own appetite ; thus giving a^praiseworthy 
 example of courage, temperance, and fidelity. 
 
 The dog may be considered the only animal whose unwearied 
 devotion is never exhausted ; the only one who always" knows 
 his master and bis friends ; and who is never unmindful of the 
 approach of strangers, or those to be suspected of fraud. He 
 also understands his own name, and is familiar with the family 
 call. If he lose his master, and cannot find him, he utters the 
 most agonizing lamentations, which is done by no other animal. 
 And, what is most extraordinary, when on a long jouijpey— a 
 journey, perhaps, that is made for the first time, he is always 
 sure to find his way. Such is his sagacity, he is easily taught 
 to hunt, to watch, and indeed to do hundreds of curious things, 
 that would seem to require an aptitude almost like human reason. 
 Among the.igosl extraordinary of them is that of distinguishing 
 the figures on the diflferent cards with the accuracy of the well- 
 instructed g*nester. Volumes might be filled with the feats of 
 the dog ; always amusing, and frequently instructive. We have 
 not space to enlarge to the degree that some of our readers 
 might desire. The varieties of the dog have been so mixed by 
 crossings, that generally in the canine race they are not well 
 definet&-none but those who have occasion for one, retaining its 
 original characteristics, exercise any care on the subject Among 
 the more useful varieties are the bull-dog, the mastiff, and the 
 Newfo/iidl and dog, for watching— the latter being also a water- 
 
 The eye of a master will do more work than both' hjs handa. 
 —3^ 
 
 t' 
 
 e- 
 
her they will be paid ; to enjoy her, and to communicate 
 
 614 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 
 
 ^ 
 
 dog; the shepheid's dog, and the drover's dog; and the terrier, 
 the pointer, and the setter, for hunting — the first of these tliree 
 being used also for catching.jjats and other small vermin about 
 the farm. ':' 
 
 The Mastiff is a noble variety of the canine race, and is dis- 
 tinguished by a large head, dependent lips and -ears, and the 
 strength pf his form. Like most of the largei' kinds of dogs, 
 although 'extremely vigilant over anything committed to his« 
 charge, he is by no means instinctively savage ; he is not prone 
 tO;abuse the power with which he is entrusted, nor to call it into 
 action, unless provoked by injuries. This species of the dog is 
 peculiar to England ; and, as early as the time of the Roman 
 emperors, mastiffs were held in high estimation, at their capital, 
 for strength and courage — especially those from Britain — where 
 an officer was appointed for the purpose of breeding them, and 
 transmijfitinig to the imperial city such as he thought capable of 
 sustaining the combats in the amphitheatre. Manwood, in his 
 woi'k on the forest laws, says this variety of the dog derives its 
 name from the Saxon words which signify thief -frightener. In 
 the^ reign of James I., a contest was exhibited between three 
 mastiffs and a lion, in which the king of beasts was compellc^d to 
 seek for safety in flight. Strabo informs us, that the miistiffs of 
 Britain in early times weie trained for war, and used by the 
 Gauls in tattle. 
 
 The Bull-Dog is much less in size than the mastiff, is nearly 
 equal to him in strength, and superior to him in fierceness. 
 Those of the brindled kind are accounted the best. It has a 
 short, brond muzzle, and the projection of its lower jaw causes 
 the lower front teeth to protrude beyond the upper. The head 
 is mas^ve and broad. The lips are thick and pendulous ; the 
 neck robust and short ; the body long and stout, and the legs 
 short and thick. The bull-dog is a slow-motioned, ferocious ani- 
 mal, better suited for savage combat than for any purposes 
 requiring activity and intelligence. For this reason, it is gen- 
 erally employed about tanneries, slaughter-house^ and other 
 places requiring strong protection. For such watchi'hg, this dog is 
 most efficient. Butchers have sometimes used it in catching and 
 throwing down cattle ; and it is surprising to see the apparent 
 ease with which the dog will seize an ox by the nose, and hold 
 him perfectly still, or throw him on his side, at his master's 
 command. In fighting with other dogs, or in attacking animals 
 capable of exciting; their fury, bull-dogs display the most ferocious 
 and indomitable spiiit. No natural antipathy can exceed that 
 of this animal against the bull. Without barking, he will natu- 
 rally fly at and seize the fiercest bull ; running directl^ at his 
 
 Not? to ^crsee workmen is to leave tlieiu your purse open. 
 
shall find them very flat and monotonous ; like hand-organs, 
 
 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 515 
 
 head, and sometimes catching hold of his nose, he will pin the 
 bull to the ground ; nor can he, without great difficulty, he 
 made to quit his hold. Such is his rage, that at a bull-fight in 
 the north of England, a brute in the shape of a man wagered 
 that he would successively cut off the feet of his dog, and that 
 the animal should return to the attack after each- amputation. 
 The horrible experiment was tried, and the wager won. Two 
 |0f these dogs, let loose at once, are a match for a bull, (three for 
 S. bear, and four for a lion. They become very vicious, and 
 sometimes extremely dangerous, as they advance in years, 
 inflicting dreadful wounds for the slightest provocations. Even 
 their masters have to be cautious in tuliing liberties with them. 
 
 The Newfoundland Doa originally came from the island 
 whence it derives its name ; it has a remarkably fine counte- 
 nance, is exceedingly docile, and of great size and sagacity. His 
 color is most frequently black, with long, fine hair. In^ their 
 native country they are extremely useful to the settlers on the 
 coast, who employ them to bring wood from the inteiior. Tliree 
 or four of them, yoked to a sled, will draw three hundred weight 
 of wood for several miles. In the performance of this task, they 
 are so expert as to need no driver. After having delivered 
 their load, they will return to the woods with the empty sled, 
 and are then rewarded by being fed with dried fish. 
 
 The feet of this dog are more palmated than usual ; which 
 structure enables them to swim very fast, to dive easily, and to 
 bring up anything from the bottom of the water. It is, indeed, 
 almost as fond of the water as if it were an amphibious animal. 
 So sagacious is it, and so prompt in lending assistance, that it 
 has saved the lives of numberless persons, who were on the 
 point of drowning ; and this circumstance, together with its uni- 
 form good temper, has justly rendered it a universal favorite. 
 The Newfoundland is an excellent watch-dog ; sagacious in dis- 
 ciiminating between friend and foe, and couiage and strength to 
 follow out his prompt and judicious conclusions. He is also 
 easily trained for the drover ; is readily broken in as a com- 
 panion for tlie sportsman ; and is made serviceable for various 
 duties on the farm. 
 
 The Shepherd's Dog is distinguished by his upright ears 
 and sharp muzzle. His body is long, and covered with thick, 
 woolly-like hair ; his legs are rather short. All of his feet Jiave 
 one, and some of them two superfluous toes, which appear des- 
 titute of muscles, and hang dangling at the hind part of his leg. 
 When properly trained, this dog becomes perfectly well acquamt- 
 ed with every individual sheep of his master's flock, and is of the 
 greatest service to the pastoral inhabitants of a country. They 
 
 A liar is not believed when he speaks the truth. 
 
 't 
 
otherwise he will have his labor to renew ; a strong soil 
 
 516 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 
 
 I" 
 
 Is 
 
 M 
 
 possess an instinctive sagacity for the management of sheep, and 
 under the direction of the shepherd soon become entirely com- 
 petent to the control of the flock. They are quiet and good- 
 natured, never inclined to roam or neglect their duties, and as 
 little disposed to injure the animals entrusted to their keeping. 
 Tbey have almost the intelligence of the shepherd in discerning 
 the vagaries of the flock, and ten times his efiSciency in driving 
 it. No extensive sheepTwalks, unless closely hemmed in by 
 impassable fences, should be without one or more of these use- 
 ful animals. Those led in search of the aid of the shepherd's 
 dog should be aware that there are different kinds of the dog 
 species used for this purpose, and prior to making a selection, 
 should be advised of the best for the location to be supplied. 
 
 The Drover's Dog, in all his fundamental instincts and 
 habits, is closely allied to the sheep-dog, from which he seems 
 to derive his intelligence and capacity, differing only in being 
 somewhat larger and heavier, which is essential to his controll- 
 ing the sturdier bullocks under his charge. His additional size 
 is acquired by crossing with some of the stouter races, such as 
 the Newfoundland or the pointer ; and even the bull-dog and 
 large shaggy terrier have sometimes been resorted to for a 
 strain of that indomitable courage and game which is frequently 
 requisite to the proper discharge of his duties. He requires 
 more training than the sheep-dog, as his peculiar instincts are 
 rather to the management of the flock than the herd ; but when 
 fairly broken in, he is equally expert in its management. The 
 drover's dog may also be useful for watching, if crossed with a 
 reference to this object, which the sheep-dog seldom is. 
 
 The Terrier is usually of a medium size among dogs, and 
 has smooth or rough hair according to the breed, there being 
 several varieties. Some think this dog will answer all the pur- 
 poses of the species needed on a farm. It has great sagacity 
 and indefatigable perseverance in exterminating rats and other 
 vermin that frequently collect about the farmer's premises, pro- 
 ducing great annoyance and devastation. Other dogs may oc- 
 casionally be good ratters, but the terrier takes to them from 
 instinct, as the Newfoundland does to the water, or the sheep- 
 dog to his flock. It has great ingenuity and activity in ferret- 
 ing out and capturing his prey, and whenever a fair opportunity 
 is afforded, he seldom fails of success. Besides a capacity for 
 the destruction of small game, it also possesses an innate love for 
 sport generally, thus becoming a valuable assistant in keeping 
 off vagrant cattle from the premises ; and from habitual watch- 
 fulness and prompt courage, is not less valuable, to the extent of 
 its size, for an excellent watch-dog. 
 
 There ia no man so contemptible but in distress requires pity. 
 
by the enemy, she is not to be found at ber post, but 
 
 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 517 
 
 .a 
 1 
 
 ;, ^ 
 
 ■o 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 
 The Pointer and the Setter. — These two varieties of the 
 canine family are preferred to all others, we believe, by the 
 regular sportsman. The former receives its name from its habit 
 of pointing out the game. Pointers are said to be very suscep- 
 tible of education, and not so apt to forget their lessons as the 
 setter, and their speed, strength, and persevering Spirit, enable 
 them to continue the chase for a length of time almost incredi- 
 ble. Stiil, the setter is pronounced one of the most valuable of 
 oflr Lanting-dogs ; it being hardy, nimble, and handsome, and 
 possessed of exquisite scent and sagacity. Somerville graph- 
 ically describes the setter. 
 
 When autumn smiles, all beauteous in decay, 
 And paints each chequered grove with various hues. 
 My setter ranges in the new-shorn fields — 
 His nose in air erect ; from ridge to ridge 
 Panting he bounds, his quarter'd ground divides 
 In equal intervals, nor careless leaves 
 One inch untried : at length the tainted gales 
 His nostrils wide inhale : quick joy elates 
 His beating heart, which, awed by discipline 
 Severe, he dares not own, but cautious creeps 
 Low cowering, step by step, at last attains 
 His proper distance : there he stops at once. 
 And points with his instructive nose upon 
 The trembling prey. 
 
 We advise our readers who desire to provide interesting books 
 for the use of their families, to purchase Youatt's History of the 
 Dog ; also any similar works, if any are found of high charac- 
 ter. We annex a few anecdotes of that interesting animal, cop- 
 ied from Wright's Natural History. A grocer in Edinburgh 
 had a dog, which for some time amused and astonished the peo- 
 ple in the neighborhood. A man who went through the streets 
 ringing a bell and selling penny pies, happened one day to treat 
 this dog with a pie. The next time he heard the pieman's bell, 
 the dog ran to him with impetuosity, seized him by the coat, 
 and would not suifer him to pass. The pieman, who understood 
 what the animal wanted, showed him a penny, and pomted to 
 his master, who stood at the street door and saw what was 
 going on. The dog immediately supplicated his master by many 
 gestures and looks. The master put a penny into the dog s 
 mouth, which he instantly delivered to the pieman, and received 
 his pie ; and this traffic between the pieman and the grocer s 
 dog continued to be daily practiced for many months^ 
 
 I enwf none that know more than myself, but pity them that know leB8. 
 
the rays. Things apparently obscure hare ultimately illustrated 
 
 ^ 
 
 .60 
 
 ja 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 518 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 
 
 At a convent in France, twenty paupers were served with a 
 dinner at a certain hour every day. A dog belonging to the 
 convent did not fail to be present at this regale, to receive tlie 
 scraps which were now and then thrown to him. The guests, 
 Ijowever, were poor and hungry, and of course not very waste- 
 ful ; so that their pensioner did little more than scent the feast 
 of which he would fain have partaken. The portions were served 
 by a person, at the ring of a bell, and delivered out by means 
 of what, in religious houses, is called a tour ; a machine like the 
 section of a cask, that by turning round upon a pivot, exhibits 
 whatesver is placed on the concave side, without discovering the 
 person who moves it. One day this dog, which had only re- 
 ceived a few scraps, waited till the paupers were all gone, took 
 the rope in his mouth, and rang the bell. The stratagem suc- 
 ceeded. He repeated it the next day with the same good for- 
 tune. At length the cook, finding that twenty-one portions 
 were given out instead of twenty, was determined to discover 
 the trick : in doing which he had no great difficulty ; for, lying 
 in wait, and noticing the paupers as they came for the different 
 portions, and that there was no intruder except the dog, he 
 began to suspect the truth ; which he was confirmed in when 
 he saw the animal continue with great deliberation till the vis- 
 itors were all gone, and then pull the bell. The matter was 
 related to the community, and the dog was permitted to ring the 
 bell every day for his dinner, on which a mess of broken victuals 
 was always afterward served out to him. 
 
 Mr. C. Hughes, a country comedian in England, had a wig 
 which generally hung on a peg in one of his rooms. He one 
 day lent the wig to a brother player, and some time afterward 
 called on him. Mr. Hughes had his dog with him, and the man 
 happened to have the borrowed wig on his head. Mr. Hughes 
 stayed a little while with his friend ; but when he left him, the 
 dog remained behind. For some time he stood, looking full in 
 the man's face ; then making a sudden spring, he leaped on his 
 shoulders, seized the wig and ran off with it as fast as he could ; 
 and when he reached home, he endeavored, by jumping, to 
 hang it up in its usual place. The same dog was afterward 
 passing through a field near Dartmouth, where a washerwoman 
 hEMi hung her linen to dry. He stopped and surveyed one par- 
 ticular shirt with attention ; then seizing it, he dragged it away- 
 through the dirt to his master, whose shirt it proved to be. 
 
 In 1791, a person went to a house in Deptford, to take lodg- 
 ings, under pretence that he had just arrived from the West 
 Indies ; and after having agreed on the terms, said he should 
 send his trunk that night, and come himself the next day. 
 
 It is the exbellen&y of a grisAt mind to triumph ovei- misfortunes. 
 
doDe for tbe solar ; and it is now neither hopeless nor 
 
 
 bo 
 
 THE MORE USEFUL VARIETIES OF THE DOG. 519 
 
 About nine o'clock in the evening, tlie trunk was brought by 
 two porters, and was carried into a bed-roora. Just as the 
 family were going to bed, their little house-dog, deserting his 
 usual station in the shop, placed himself close to the chamber 
 door where tbe chest whs deposited, against which it scratched 
 and barked with redoubled fury. They attempted to get the 
 dog out of the room, but in vain. Calling in some neighbors, 
 and making them eye-witnesses of the circumstances, they began 
 to move the trunk about, when they quickly discpvered that it 
 contained something that was alive. Suspicion becoming very 
 strong, they were induced to force it open ; when, to their utter 
 astonishment, they found in it their new lodger, who had been 
 thus conveyed into the house with the intention of- robbing it. 
 
 A dog that had been the favorite of an elderly lady, discov- 
 ered, some time after her death, the strongest emotions at the 
 sight, of her picture, when it was taken down to be cleaned. 
 Before this, he had never been observed to notice the painting. 
 Here was evidently a case of passive remembrance, or of the invol- 
 untary renewal of former impressions. Another dog, the prop- 
 erty of a gentleman that died, was given to a friend in Yorkshire. 
 Several years afterward, a brother from the West Indies paid 
 a short visit at the house where the dog then was. He was 
 instantly recognized, though an entire stranger, in consequence, 
 probably, of a strong personal likeness. The dog fawfied upon 
 him, and followed him with great affection to every place where 
 he went. 
 
 A surgeon of Leeds found a little spanic4 who had been 
 lamed. He carried the poor animal homo, bandaged up his 
 leg, and, after two or three days, turned him ont. The dog 
 returned to the surgeon's house every morning, till his leg was 
 perfectly well. At the end of several months, the spaniel again 
 presented himself, in company with another dog, who had been 
 lamed ; and he intimated, as well as piteous and intelligent 
 looks could intimate, that he desired the same kind assistance to 
 be rendered to his friend as had been bestowed on himself. A 
 similar circumstance is stated to have occurred to Moraut, a 
 celebrated French surgeon. 
 
 In the year 1823, there was a dog const^intly to be seen in 
 St. Bride's Church-yard, Fleet Street, which for two years had 
 refused to leave the place where his master was buried. He 
 did not appear miserable ; he evidently recollected their old 
 companionship, and he imagined that their friendship would 
 ao'iiin be renewed. The inhabitants of the houses round the 
 church daily fed the poor creature, and the sexton built hira a 
 little kennel. But he would never quit the spot ; and there he died. 
 
 It is the part of a wise man to foresee misfortunes and guard against them. 
 
our graves, may be gratifying to the living, but are notbing 
 
 <S 
 
 INDIA RUBBER GOODS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 One of the first aims of the Farmer's Every Day Book is to 
 elevate the intellectual and social condition of a rural popula- 
 tion ; then, in the greatest degree, to render the labors of the 
 agriculturist productive of commercial gain ^ and, not less in im- 
 portance, to mitigate his toils, and to promote his comfort and 
 health, 'when engaged in theni. It is apparent to everyone 
 familiar vpith the subject, that among the most disagreeable and 
 repulsive features in rural life is the liability and even the neces- 
 sity for exposure to the weather in its most trying vicissitudes — 
 to cold, to rain, to snow, and chilling vapors. The Stock of a 
 farm are never to be neglected, however severe the storms. 
 They must be sheltered and fed. The more boisterous the wind ; 
 the more incessant the descending rain ; the more pitiless the 
 drifting snow, the greater is the necessity for it. And how 
 often does it happen, in the grazing season, that the cows must 
 be hunted up and milked in the midst of drenching showers ! 
 
 It probably happens, that on an average, a hundred times 
 every year, the persons performing these labors are completely 
 soaked with rain, obliging them so many times to make an entire 
 change of vestures, oi- else to retain them on the body to be 
 dried by the animal heat. By such hazards to health thousands 
 of constitutions are broken down — thousands of consumptions 
 are engendered^ — and the victims of them are prernaturely sent 
 down into the grave ! The natural limit of human life is three- 
 score and ten, or seventy years ; yet, on an average, it is reduced 
 to thirty-three years, considerably more than one half. The 
 greater portion of this reduction, excepting from death in child- 
 hood, is the result of extra hazards and perils of some kind or 
 other. The mariner has these hazards and perils in frightful 
 magnitude. All occupations are more or less liable to them. 
 And farmers, next to mariners, are undoubtedly the most exposed 
 to them. If these hazards and perils could be avoided, from 
 ten to twenty per cent, would be added to the average life of the 
 human species. 
 
 The umbrella has been esteemed a great convenience awd pro- 
 lection in an exposure to the rain, though it shelters the head 
 and shoulders only. But the umbrella is expensive, is easily 
 broken by the wind, cannot be used in manual labor, and when 
 used furnishes an inadequate security against the falling water. 
 
 The height of all philosophy, both natural and moral, ia to know thyself. 
 
therefore follows that, at every instant, there is emitted 
 
 INDIA RUBBER GOODS FOR FARMERS. 521 
 
 ■a 
 
 t> 
 
 India rubber, as now manufactured, is the only known article 
 that enables the wearer of it to be completely exempt from the 
 evils of which we are speaking. Let a person on a farm be en- 
 closed with a coat and pants — boots, and a taiipaulin, with a 
 cape, made of this wonderful material — the cost of which is a 
 comparative trifle — and he may labor all day in the open air, 
 during a constant descent of rain, and remain as free from jnoist- 
 ure upon his skin and under-clothes as though he had been 
 laboring in his cellar or barn, All he has to do, on returning 
 to his bouse, is to throw off these external coverings and substi- 
 tute others, and he will in the evening feel as comfortable as if 
 he had been sitting around the kitchen hearth all day. During 
 a moderate rain, with such fixtures, he may pick stones, chop 
 wood, and do twenty other things always to be found to be 
 done on a farm, nearly as well as if the sun shone. And it is 
 believed that every laborer on a farm, in each year, with an ad- 
 equate supply of these fixtures, will save at least fifteen or 
 twenty days in useful occupation, besides the comfort and secu- 
 rity to health in having them, which would without them be 
 lost. The value of labor thus, saved will be more than equal to 
 the entire cost of them. 
 
 With such fixtures, it will be no great hardship to feed the 
 hogs or the cattle, to milk the cows, or to do other out-door 
 labor, in a rain-storm. And, what a convenience it would be to 
 a person, at such a time, to be thus equipped, with his horse in 
 an open wagon, having occasion to go a few miles from home 1 
 With an India rubber blanket, he might fill his wagon with bags 
 of grain for the grist-mill, .and they would be kept as dry as 
 though remaining in his granary. With such fixtures, he might 
 carry any articles to market, or bring home articles of mer- 
 chandise, in rainy as well is in fair weather. His sugar, his 
 salt, his tea, or indeed anything else, in the transition, would 
 receive no injury from intermixtures with each other, or being 
 made by the action of the rain into some unwonted compound. 
 Nor should it be overlooked, that with India rubber blankets for 
 his horses, when thus out in cold rains, those useful animals 
 will receive no injury. How many valuable horses are annually 
 injured, if not essentially ruined, by being caught out in such 
 rains, first heated by quick travel, and then chilled for the want 
 of the cheap covers here recommended ! 
 
 Nor is this all. There is not a little dirty work to be done, m- 
 doors and on the adjacent premises. Feed is to be provided and 
 given to the hogs, poultry, and cows, at short intervals. This 
 food is sometimes greasjr, or otherwise prejudicial to good 
 clothes. Horses and carriages are to be washed. Calves are 
 
 g" 
 
 
 B- 
 
 One true philosopher is better than a thousand grammarians. 
 
such reads ; but, as these must reroWe more frequently 
 
 522 INDIA RUBBER GOODS FOR FARMERS. 
 
 to be handled. Cattle stalls are to be daily cleaned, to say 
 nothing of the benefit to the cattle themselves, if in the Winter 
 a card were frequently applied to them. How convenient, in 
 4oing such work, for men to have a large India rubber apron^ or a 
 long frock, like those in form worn by butchers, to be put on and 
 thrown off at, pleasure ; thus protecting the other clothes from 
 contact with the unsavory matters to be approached and handled 1 
 Knives and forks, too, are three times a day to be washed and 
 wiped ; vegetables are to, be daily prepared for the culinary pro- 
 cess — so is meat ; the dairy department is not to be neglected — ■ 
 there is the straining of milk, the making of butter and cheese ; 
 dough is to be occa,sionally kneaded for bread ; the materials for 
 cake are to be beaten well together; pastry is to be duly prepared, 
 or there will be no pies ; and, not of least importance, what 
 kitchen is exempt from the drenchings of the wash-tub ? These 
 are matters, under the most favorable circumstances, calculated, 
 such is the frequency of their occurrence, to disturb the equilib- 
 rium of most female nerves. But if a woman can always have 
 at hand an India rubber apron or a long loose robe, to protect 
 her person and other clothes, to be put on in doing such woi%, 
 and then laid by, how much is she relieved from the most offen- 
 sive portion of her duties 1 
 
 India , rubber is now manufactured into so many articles of 
 utility, it would be impossible for us to enumerate them all. 
 We will name a few in addition to those already named, of such 
 as are particularly adapted to rural life, to wit : gloves and 
 mittens, team-whips, gate and door springs, saddle-bags, car- 
 riage-tops, cloaks for riding horseback, traveling-bags, gun- 
 cases, capes, bottles, tubs, water-tanks, beds, pillows, 
 canteens, and matress-covers. > 
 
 It is not strange that there have been prejudices against the 
 use of India rubber for the purposes named. For a long time 
 its manufacture was understood imperfectly. We have had arti- 
 cles in our own family that were altogether worthless. Among 
 other defects in its manufacture are its liability, when exposed 
 to a high degree of heat, to become glutinous or sticky ; or 
 when exposed to a low temperature, to become stiff. In the in- 
 fancy of its use for apparel, a waggish Yankee editor gave an 
 account of a fishing party in Boston Harbor, where such parties 
 in the season of summer are very frequent. Rarely does a day 
 pass without one, and frequently are there several in the same 
 day. They ave composed of persons of both sexes, and mostly 
 of those in the higher grades of life. A few hours are spent in 
 fishing, and when the hour for dinner arrives, or enough fish 
 have been caught, they all land at some one of the islands in the 
 
 Worth has been underrated ever since wealth has be^n overvalued. 
 
 
vegctaMea which afe to adorn tlieir summer, 
 
 INDIA RUBBER GOODS FOK FARMERS. 523 
 
 harbor, often tsed for the purpose, dress the fish, .md then cook 
 them, eithfef by frying or in chowder. The smell of the salt 
 Wider, th« eXereis(i, and especially the excitement attendant upon 
 catching the fish and cooking, ustiatly give a first-rate appetite. 
 We have often relished such a dinner in open air — perhip.';, un- 
 der the green branches of a tree or canvas awning, but without 
 tables or chaiTs — better than the most costly fare at our first 
 hotels. After ditiiier is finished, the party ramble about the 
 island till time to re-embark for returning home. 
 
 On the occasion described by our Yankee editor, even-thing 
 went on smoothly. Fish were caught in abundance;. All weie 
 in <!'xCellertt spirits. The party being of the better soit, they 
 »^*re Well equipped for whatever exigency might arise. If for- 
 tunate enough to catch fish, it is a matter of course that in 
 handling them the clothes would be pretty well saturated with 
 salt water, if not covered with slime from the fish. Besides, 
 sudden showers of rain would frequently occur, giving hidies 
 and gentlemen no alternative but to receive a good dicnching. 
 To be prepared for the above liabilities, our heroes and heroines 
 of the hook and line were completely attired in India rubbei- 
 cloth. All landed upon an island as usual. To hasten the 
 coming feast, all were occupied ; some in dressing the fish ; 
 sonte in preparing the vegetables ; some in collecting fuel for the 
 fire ; and the others in arranging large stones, to be used instead 
 of chairs, in a circle around the trunk of a large tree, under a 
 dense foliage. This was needful, for it was a hot day in June. 
 Speedily everything was in readiness, and never was a dinner 
 eaten with more zest. But when the guests attempted to lise 
 frdm their seats, all found themsekes in a perfect fix — each as 
 fast to the stone used for a chair as if it had been an ossified 
 tumor of their own individual selves. The stones had been so 
 healed by the sun that the India rubber was reduced to a paste 
 of glue, thus fastening to them the animal substances upon them, 
 as firmly as a piece of steel is fastened to a magnet of the great- 
 est power. Here our editor left the party to keep themselves 
 in the best way they could — never, that we are aware, telling 
 how thev became relieved, or if obliged to remain in a colony 
 by themselves, letting the world know any particulars of them. 
 He certainly deserved the cfedit of furnishing a first-rate bur- 
 lesque on one Of the Yankee notions, if not for being a truthful 
 historian. 
 
 Some of these \tOTthles9 goods may still h6 in the market. It 
 is advisable, therefore, for all disposed to use India rubber, to be 
 particular in their purchases. It seems to be an established fact, 
 that the metallic India rubber goods, so called, manufactured 
 
 He who go^s the wrong road, must go the joiirney twice over. 
 
and then goes on from one degree of gnilt to another, till conBcience 
 
 524 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 •a 
 
 
 5«0 
 
 P. 
 
 •a 
 
 under the patent of Goodyear, are neither liable to the defects 
 above named, nor to injury from grease, nor any of the solvents of 
 the native gum. We believe there are several establishments 
 which manufacture under his patents. Whether he is or not 
 personally interested in these patents we are unable to say, hav- 
 ing no personal knowledge of him. We speak only of his goods ; 
 and, for aught we know, there may be no essential difference 
 between articles from different establishments using his patents. 
 The Union India Rubber Company, having an extensive depot 
 for goods in Nassau street. New York, and the Newark Com- 
 pany, having a depot for goods in Maiden Lane, New York, are 
 probably the most important Ones in the country ; and no one 
 can visit those places without being amused and interested at 
 seeing the multitude of curious things there exhibited. 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY; 
 
 INOLUDINO 
 
 RECEIPTS, HISTS, AKD LACONICS ON THE SUBJECT OF PRESERVINO 
 
 HEALTH, AND RESTORING IT, UNDER THE ORDINARY 
 
 OIRCOMSTANCBS OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 The following compend is not designed to supersede system- 
 atic and more elaborate treatises on the same subject, or the 
 services of the regular practitioner. , The latter should never be 
 neglected where the means in a family are unavaihng,; and in 
 regard to the former, wc recommend that no housekeeper be 
 without some such work. We know of none better than Gunn's 
 Domestic Medicine, and Imray's Cyclopaedia of Domestic Medi- 
 cine ; the latter is the more expensive of the two, but the addi- 
 tional amount of matter in it is more than equal to its additional 
 cost. Both are valuable works, and are h.aving. an extensive 
 circulation. Such a work always at hand, on an emergency, by 
 her judicious management, may save its cost ten times over in 
 doctors' bills, and what is of far more importance, may prevent 
 a long season of sickness^ if not tlie loss of life. In the want of 
 such a work, we trust the following scraps and prescriptions will 
 be found of material use in the cases for which they are designed. 
 Some of them we know to be good ; all are from sources enti- 
 tling them to respectful consideration ; and all, moreover, judi- 
 ciously applied, will be found harmless; if not effectual in leading 
 
 Trust not the praises of a friend, nor the contempt of an enemy. 
 
■wealth, talents, or station ; but is the result of onte's own endeav- 
 
 MISCELLANlES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 625 
 
 to a cure. And we especially advise every family to be always 
 supplied with the more common medicines ; among others, Ep- 
 som salts, castor oil, liniments for external use ; and, above all, 
 the va.rious medicinal herbs that may be raised in every garden. 
 
 The Alt of Health. 
 Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourselves 
 to walk very far. The Europeans value themselves on having 
 subdued the horse to the use of man, but I doubt whether we 
 have not lost more than we have gained by this animalj for no 
 one thing has occasioned so much degeneracy of the human 
 body. An Indian goes on foot nearly as far in a day, for a long 
 journey, as an enfeebled white does on his horse, and will tire 
 the best horses. A little walk of half an hour in the morning, 
 when you first rise, is advisable, if you have not exercise from 
 your regular occupation. It shakes off sleep, and produces other 
 good effects in the animal economy. 
 
 Health Promoted by Labor and Exercise. 
 Labor and exercise in the open air are the best promoters of 
 appetite ; when we have taken these, we eat our meals with a 
 relish, and they do us good. It is a grievous error, however, to 
 suppose that eating a great deal is proof of a healthy appetite ; 
 or that by eating much we get more nourishment. It is useless 
 to eat more than the stomach can digest, and no stomach can 
 digest food vfrhen it is overloaded. 
 
 Great Value of Health.' 
 Health is the working-man's fortune, and he ought to watch 
 over it more than the capitalist over his largest investments. 
 Health lightens the efforts of body and mind. It enables a man 
 to crowd much work into a narrow compass. Without it little 
 can be earned, and that little by slow, exhausting toil. 
 
 Exercise After Meals. 
 Exercise immediately after eating heartily is hurtful, especially 
 to persons of nervous and irritable constitutions, who are hence 
 liable to heartburns and vomiting. The instinct of the infeiior 
 animals inclines them to rest after having taken their food. Ex- 
 ercise' should be delayed till digestion is performed, which gen- 
 erally requires three or four hours after eating a full meal 
 Laboring persons with vigorous constitutions, from habit and 
 necessity, may make an exception. 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 He who has to deal with a blockhead, has need of much brains. 
 
to the rights of others in laboring to secure his own ; and, 
 
 S26 MISCELLANIES' IN HYGEUN ECONOMY. 
 
 Hints about Food. 
 Rpast meat contains nearly double the nourishment of boiled, 
 but boiled meat is better adapted to weak digestion. Frying is 
 one of the worst methods of dressing food, as broiling is one of 
 the best. Baked rneat has a strong flavor, is deprived of some 
 of its nutritious qualities, and is difficult of digestion. Spices, 
 sauces, and melted butter should never be Used by an invalid. 
 
 Importance of Exercise. 
 
 A person of common size, and in good health, will perspire 
 01- sweat from three to four pounds weight in twenty-four hours, 
 if proper exercise is taken ; and the fact is, that there is more in 
 proportion of all the fetid matter of the system discharged from 
 the skin in perspiration or sweat, than there is by the stool and 
 urine combined ; and anyone can then perceive thai, unless this 
 bad matter is thrown off from the body by exercise and perspi- 
 ration, the fluids of the body will become greatly corrupted, and 
 all its vessels oppressed and morbidly irritated, and that disease 
 must and will follow. 
 
 A Pew Words about Diet. 
 Diet depends very much upon the manner in which it is 
 cooked. The most simple food may be converted into poison by 
 the pampering and studied artifices of epicures and cooks. This 
 is the reason why the French cookery is superior to that of the 
 Englisli, or even to our own. The French use all the innocent 
 herbs and plants of the garden, while the English and Ameri- 
 cans season their food with highly stimulating spices, calculated 
 to destroy the coats of the stomach. Hence, dyspepsia is very 
 riire in France. 
 
 Every Day Bathing. 
 Those who wish to keep the body clean and free from colds, 
 would do well to bathe themselves every moaning, as soon as 
 they get out of bed, in cold water, all the year round. In the 
 first place, commence in "warm weather. I will inform you, says 
 a writer in the Health Almanac, what my practice is, and has 
 been for years — which is, to have a pail about half full of water 
 in my bei-roorn at night, in the centre of a piece of India rub- 
 ber cloth, about four feet square. I then put my head info the 
 water, and with the assistance of a sponge wash my body all 
 over, and dry myself with a coarse towel. From the time I 
 commence, until I get ready to put my clothes on, is about one 
 minute. The quick action of the muscles prevents a chill. 
 
 Sorrow, carried to excess, destroys both the mind and the body. 
 
fuur hours from one acre of land, after there bad been no 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 537 
 
 On the Use cf Butter. 
 Some writers inveigh against tlie use of butter as universally 
 pernicious ; but they might with equal reason condemn all veg- 
 etable oils, which form a c<)nsiderable part of diet in southern 
 climates, and seem to have been beneficially intended by nature 
 for that purpose. Butter, like every other oily substance, has 
 doubtless a relaxing quality, and if long retained in the stomach, 
 is liable to become rancid ; but if eaten with moderation, it will 
 not produce those effects. However, for bilious constitutions, it 
 is improper. The worst consequence produced by butter, when 
 eaten with bread, is, that it obstructs the discharge of the saliva 
 in the act of mastication or chewing, by which means the food 
 is not easily digested. 
 
 On the Use of Eggs. 
 
 The eggs of birds are a simple and wholesome aliment. 
 Those of the turkey are superior in all the qualifications of food. 
 The white of eggs is dissolved in a warm temperature, but by 
 much heat is rendered tough and hard. The yolk contains 
 much oil, and is highly nourishing, but has a strong tendency to 
 putrefaction ; on which account, eggs are improper for persons 
 of weak stomach, especially when they are not quite fresh. 
 Efgs boiled hard, or fried, are difficult of digestion, and are ren- 
 dered still more indigestible by the addition of butter. 
 
 On the Use of Veal. 
 
 Some physicians say that veal is a proper food for persons recov- 
 ering from indisposition, and may even be given to febrile patients 
 in a very weak state ; but it affords less nourishment than the 
 flesh of the same animal in a state of maturity. The fat of it 
 is lighter than that of any other animal, and shows the least 
 disposition to putrescency. Veal is a very suitable food in cos- 
 tive habits ; but of all meat, it is the least calculated for remov- 
 ing acidity from the stomach. 
 
 On the Use of Fish. ^ 
 
 Although some fish are light and easy of digestion, they 
 afford less nourishment than vegetables, or the flesh of quadru- 
 peds, and are, of all the animal tribes, the most disposed to pu- 
 trefaction. Siilt-water fish are in general the best ; but when 
 srtlted, though less disposed to putrescency, they become more 
 difficult of digestion. Acid sauces and pickles, by resisting pu- 
 trefaction, are a proper addition to fish, both as they retard 
 putrescency, and connect the relaxing tendency of butter, so 
 generally used with this kind of aliment. 
 
 Simplicity of life and manners produces tranquillity of mind. 
 
you ever, neighbor," said one, " see me with more than 
 
 528 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY, 
 
 On the Use of Beef. 
 
 The flesh of a tuUock of middle age afifords good aad strong 
 nourishment, «,nd is peculiarly -well adapted to persons who 
 labor, or take much exercise. It will often sit easy upon the 
 stomach that can digest no other kind of food ; and its fat is 
 almost as easily digested as that of veal. 
 
 On the TTse of Fowls. 
 
 The flesh of birds differs in quality according to thef food on 
 which they live. Such as feed upon grain and berries, afford, in 
 general, good nourishment ; if we except geese and ducks, which 
 are hard of digestion, especially the former. A. young heu or 
 chicken is tender and delicate food, and extremely well adapted 
 where the digestive powers are weak. But of all tame fowls, 
 the capon is the most nutritious. 
 
 Content the Stomach. 
 
 This is the golden rule — content the stomach, and the stom- 
 ach will content you. But it is often no easy matter to know 
 how ; for, like a spoiled child, or a wayward wife, it does not 
 always know its own wants. It will cry for food when it wants 
 none — will not say when it has enough, and then be indignant 
 for being indulged — will crave what it ought to reject, and re- 
 ject what it ought to desire ; but all this is because you have 
 allowed it to foi-m bad habits, and then ignorantly lay upon poor 
 nature your own folly. 
 
 Ho-w the Taste may be Vitiated. 
 
 The taste is injured by the constant use of pungent food, and 
 by indulging in spices. If these are persevered in, the tongue 
 and palate are made insensible to anything less stimulating, and 
 a simple diet becomes tasteless. Whatever injures the tone of 
 the stomach, such as tl^e immoderate use of wine and spirits, 
 and high-seasoned food, injures the taste also. 
 
 Comparative Facility of Digestion. 
 The time required for a healthy person to digest boiled rice, 
 says Dr. Warder, is one hour; sago, an hour and forty five min- 
 utes ; tapioca and barley, two hours ; stale bread, two hours ; 
 new bread, three hours ; boiled cabbage, four hours ; oysters, 
 two and a half hours ; salmon, four hours ; venison chops, one 
 hotir and a half; beef, three hours; roast pork, five and a 
 quarter hours; raw eggs, two hours; and hard-boiled eggs, 
 three and a half hours. 
 
 Strive not against a person who has never injured you. 
 
compass of -wbat we actually possess. A man having become 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 529 
 
 Medicine as well as Food. 
 If you have a severe cold, and are very hoarse, have some 
 water gruel prepared in the ordinary way ; when nearly ready, 
 slice in two or three good onions ; simmer it again twenty min- 
 utes ; pour it out; put in a lump of butter, with pepper and 
 salt, and eat it — ^^with bread and butter, if you are hungry ; go 
 to bed soon after ; the next iliorning, if you are not quite well, 
 you will be much improved, and willing to try a second dose, 
 which will certainly effect a cure. 
 
 Ho'w to Prevent Cold Feet in Bed. 
 Draw off your stockings just before undressing, and rub your 
 ankles and feet well with your hand, as hard as you can bear 
 the pressure, for five or ten minutes, and you will never have to 
 complain of cold feet in bed. It is hardly conceivable what a 
 pleasurable glow this diffuses. Frequent washing of the feet, 
 and rubbing them thoroughly dry with a linen cloth or flannel, 
 is very useful. 
 
 The Clothing Favorable to Health. 
 Woolen garments are evidently, in a climate like ours, most 
 favorable to health. They enable the body to resist the effects 
 of the frequent changes of the weather, being what chemists 
 call bad conductors of heat; they both prevent the natural 
 warmth of the body from escaping, and the external heat from 
 reaching it, and thus preserve it in a steady temperature.. 
 
 Dr. Franklin's Direction for Sleeping "Well. 
 Eat moderately during the day, and avoid heavy suppers ; 
 sleep on a hard bed, and above all, during the day, take suf- 
 ficient exercise. If you awake from a sense of uneasiness or 
 accident, and cannot again compose yourself to sleep, ^et out of 
 bed and throw open the bed-clothes, and expose your naked 
 body to the action of the cold air ; there is no danger of taking 
 cold. When the cold air becomes unpleasant, return to bed ; 
 your skin has by this time discharged its perspirable matter, 
 and you will soon fall asleep, and your sleep will be sound and 
 refreshing. The higher and more airy the bed-room, the bet- 
 ter the health. 
 
 Healthy Location of Houses. 
 
 Low, damp, and confined apartments, are by no means to be 
 
 chosen for dwelling-places, as it is impossible we should ever 
 
 preserve our health in them. When deprived of the cheering 
 
 influences of light, and of cool, fresh air, we droop, become 
 
 Praise nothing but what you know is worthy to be praised. 
 34 
 
men of the world, will be struck' with tlie fact, that almost 
 
 P< 
 
 530 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEUN ECONOMY. 
 
 languid and depressed in spirit, and lose all enjoyment. Our 
 appetite is gone; we do not relish our food; our sleep is dis- 
 turbed ; our wholfe frame shows sign* of weakness. Houses, to 
 be healthy, should be built with airy rooms, and in dry situa- 
 tions, and should not be too closely surrounded by trees. 
 
 HoTw the Air is rendered Impure, 
 In respiration the air undergoes a great chahgp, is robbed.of 
 that portion which is essential to life, and its place supplied- by 
 another kind of air, which kills animals. And when several 
 candles or lamps are burning in the room, the air is still more 
 rapidly rendered unwholesome ; because these bodies, in burn- 
 ing, also deprive it of its oxygen, or finest part. Hence, it is 
 easily explained why, in crowded evening parties, the company 
 so soon get fatigued and listless ; and why people whb fre- 
 quently attend them are often ill, and appear pale and un- 
 ' healthy. 
 
 HoTw Sick Hooms are to fee kept Pure. 
 Rooms in which sick persons are confined soon become full 
 of putrid exhalations, or bad smells, and are very unhealthy, if 
 shut up and kept waim. This should be avoided, both on ac- 
 count of patient and attendants. A constant supply of fresh 
 air is even more necessary in sickness than in health. 
 
 How to Improve the Air of a Keated Room. 
 
 It is said that a piece of resin immersed in the water placed 
 in a vessel on the stove, will add a peculiar property to the at- 
 mosphere of the room, giving great relief to persons troubled 
 with a cough. The heat of the water is sufficient to throw off 
 the aroma of the resin, and gives the same relief as is afforded 
 by a combustion of the resin. It is preferable to combustion, 
 because the evaporation is more durable. The same resin may 
 be used for a week. 
 
 How to Facilitate Sleep. 
 Persons are sometimes, without any known cause, unable to 
 ;sleep as readily as desired. To avoid this, take a warm bath 
 ten minutes before lying down, or use the flesh-brush for a 
 quarter of an hour. If yon do not then feel disposed to sleep, 
 commence counting one thousand ; before you get five hundred 
 the probability is you will be lost, and unable to eount. 
 
 How to Prevent the Kails Growing into the Toe. 
 If the nail of your toe be hard, and disposed to grow round, 
 and into the corners of your toe, take a piece of broken glass. 
 
 I 
 
 Pride hides our own faults, and magnifies the faults of others. 
 
spent many liours picking wp stones from this field, in frosty 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 £31 
 
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 and scrape the top very thin ; (}o this whenever you cut your 
 nails, and by constant use it makes the corners fly up and grow 
 flat, so that it is impossible they can give you any pain. The 
 ■experiment is quickly made, and costs no money. 
 
 A Prescription t6 Prevent the Lock-Jaw. 
 
 It has been stated on what was supposed good authority, thfi^ 
 an application of warm ley, made of ashes, as strong as pdfssible, 
 to a wounded part, will prevent the lock-jaw ; if a, foot or ^ 
 hand, immerse it in the ley — if another part of the body, let it 
 be bathed with flannels wrung out from the warm liquid. 
 
 Cleansing the Teeth. 
 In ordier to preserve the teeth, it is of the utmost importance 
 that they should be kept always clean. Multitudes seem to 
 think they may use their teeth during a whole life without ever 
 cleansing them, and wlien they discover they are going to de- 
 cay, express great surprise that their teeth do not last good like 
 other people's. How can they expect them to remain perfect, 
 if nothing is e^'er done "to protect them from the action of acids 
 produced by the particles of food that decompose after having 
 been lodged between and around the teelh for weeks and 
 months ? The only wonder is, that the teeth last as long as 
 th6y do. There is no more propriety in neglecting to clean the 
 teeth, than there would be in neglecting to wash the cups that 
 are used from day to day on j'our tea-table. Not a day should 
 be suffered to pass without the teeth being thoroughly cleansed 
 with a brush. 
 
 Preservation of the Teeth. 
 
 Perfect cleanliness about the mouth should be diligently prac- 
 ticed, not only for the sake of the appearance, but as the best 
 preservative from decay of the teetk Every morning, and after 
 meals, the teeth should be cleansed by a soft brush and pure 
 water. A little charcoal now and then is all the tooth-powder 
 requisite. Picking the teeth with pins is not only an offensive 
 habit, but it is also exceedingly hurtful ; since it loosens the 
 teeth, and renders them more liable to decay. Teeth are fre- 
 quently injured Ijy cracking nuts, or plum-stones, and biting 
 liard substances ; also, by improper food, and particularly scald- 
 ing Tiot drinks. 
 
 How to Remove Scurvy from the Teeth. 
 
 Heat a piece of steel r«d hot, and quench it in a quart of 
 white wine vinegar, eight or ten times, as fast as you can heat 
 it; then add to this liquor an ounce of powdered myrrh, and 
 
 The more we know of history, the less we sliall esteem the subjects of it 
 
 I 
 
into the ground, and -whicli, under favorable circum- 
 
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 533 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 GS 
 
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 7 
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 half an ounce of mastic, powdered ; wash your teeth two or 
 three times a day with this liquid, and the scurvy will dis- 
 appeai*. 
 
 The Teething of Children. 
 
 Use castor oil to keep the bowels open. If the pains are se- 
 vere, give them a little paregoric. The gums are to be rubbed 
 with honey two or three times a day. For drink they may have 
 balm tea. Children, in teething, should have free access to the 
 pure air, and have a cold bath every day. 
 
 A Prescription for the Cure of Cancer, 
 Put water with the ashes of red oak bark, and boil it down 
 to the consistence of molasses ; and cover the cancer with a coat 
 of it. In about an hour afterward, cover it with a plaster of 
 tar, which must be removed after a few days ; and if any pro- 
 tuberance remain in the wound, apply more potash and the 
 plaster again, until it shall wholly disappeair. 
 
 Another Prescription for Cancer. 
 Take the narrow-leaved dock-root, boil it in soft water, and 
 wash the ulcer with a strong decoction, as warm as it can be 
 borne ; fill the cavity with the hquor for two minutes ; then 
 scrape the hulk of the root, bruise it fine, put it on gauze, and 
 lay it over every part of the ulcer ; dip a linen cloth in the de- 
 coction, and put it over the gauze, jiepeat this three times in 
 twenty-foilr hours, and at each time let the patient take a wine- 
 glass of the tea made of the root, with one-third of a glass of 
 port wine, sweetened with honey. N. E. — It is perhaps unne- 
 cessary to apprise the patient, that in case of cancers of long 
 existence, no gr«at confidence should be entertained for a cure 
 from any similar application. 
 
 Tincture for Diseased Gums. 
 Take Peruvian bark coarsely powdered, one ounce, and infuse 
 it for a fortnight in half a pint of brandy. Gargle the mouth at 
 night with a teaspoonful of this tincture, diluted with an equal 
 quantity of rose-water. 
 
 How to Make Bread Poultice. 
 Old or stale wheat bread should be used. Reduce it to 
 crumbs, by rubbing ; then pour boiling water over it, and boil 
 it till soft, stirring it constantly. When brought to a proper 
 consistence, remove it from the fire, and mix with it, by de-' 
 grees, a little sweet oil, or hOg's lard, which renders it soft and 
 yielding. 
 
 No man can live or die so much for himself, as he that lives and dies for others. 
 
a 
 
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 ments of wealth, which I call moral capital, under his 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 533 
 
 Treatment of the Measles. 
 The principal point in this disorder is to keep out the erup- 
 tion upon the surface of the body. Let the feet of the patient 
 be immersed two or three times a day in warm water, drinking 
 freely of thoroughwort tea, and taking care to be w,ell wrapped 
 up, so as to produce perspiration. Saffron is very valuable; 
 let this and thoroughwort tea be the only drink. Mustard poul- 
 tices applied to the feet are very useful. Let thie bowels be 
 kept gently open. 
 
 How to Make a Poultice of Hops. 
 For a poultice of hops, a handful of them should be boiled in 
 perhaps a pint or less of water, covered over so as not to lose 
 the strength. Afterward the juice is to be squeezed out and 
 strained. The liquid is- then to be placed over the fire again, 
 and rendered suitably thick with Indian rueal. When partly 
 cooled, lard is to be added. 
 
 How to Make an Indian Meal Poultice. 
 Let a suitable portion of water be made to boil over the fire. 
 Into the water, when boiling, scatter moderately six or eight 
 table-spoonfuls of Indian ineal and one of rye, if at hand, which 
 gives it a more firm consistence ; stirring it all the time till well 
 mixed. Lard or sweet oil is to be added, as in the bread 
 poultice. 
 
 How to Make an Alum Poultice. 
 Beat the whites of two eggs, as if to be used in cookery- 
 Then stir into the mass a little pulverized alum, which, on being 
 duly mixed, becomes a curd. Spi<ead this on a piece of linen 
 cloth, which, after another piece is placed next the skin, is to be 
 adjusted to the diseased flesh, and well secured by a bandage. 
 
 How to Make Mustard Poultice. 
 
 Take equal parts of ground mustard and ground flaxseed, and 
 mix them thoroughly together, with barely enough of water to 
 make them of the thickness of common paste. To prevent 
 sticking, sweet oil is to be added, if at hand ^ if not, hog's lard 
 will do nearly as well. 
 
 How to Make Alum "WTiey. 
 
 Alum whey is recommended for diabetes and uterine hemor- 
 rhage. It has frequently been used to advantage. It is made 
 in the following manner : Take a pint of milk and put into it a 
 quarter of an ounce of pulverized alum, which produces a curd. 
 Then strain, and yow have the whey. As much may be taken 
 as the stomach 'will bear; say two or three ounces. 
 
 light, whether it be material or moral, is the best reformer. 
 
ther good, nor ervtirely dependiilg on thyself: but if thou desirest 
 
 534 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEUN ECONOMY. 
 
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 Charcoal Poultice. 
 
 , A gentleman of Washipgtop City, a few years sinee, recom- 
 mended charcoal plaster as preferable to any poultice for curing 
 sores, eruptions, or breakings out, on the human body. He 
 niehtions the case of a boy, belonging to him, who had an erup- 
 tion on his leg, which prevented his walking, or using it in any 
 way, who was cured in a few weeks, by charcoal applications. 
 
 Charcoal Fo^irder as a Iiazative. , 
 
 This is one of the most valuable and innocent medicines we 
 possess, particularly for persons laboring under dyspepsia or 
 iftdigestida. To persons of a costive habit of body, the use of 
 pounded charcoal is invaluable, from its always keeping the 
 bowels open and regular. The dose for a grown person is one 
 tdbie-spoonful, mixed with honey, milk, or cold water. The 
 pt'^paration of charcoal as a medicine is very simple. It consists 
 in merely burning the common charcoal over again ;~ to do which, 
 it is placed in an iron vessel and exposed to a hot iire until it 
 becomes of a red heat ; then it is suffered to cool ; after which 
 it is pounded very fine, and put into a dry bottle and tightly 
 corked. , ' 
 
 How to Preserve the Eyes. 
 The sight is injured by a dazzling, unequal, and varying light. 
 In reading, we should never have the sun shining on the page, 
 nor should we ever read by fire-light ; for not only is the light 
 unequal and uncertain, but sitting near the fire overheats the 
 eyds, and makes them painful. In the morning, and after ex- 
 posure to the dust, or suti, or to the glare of the snow, it is 
 desirable to bathe the eyelids with water, with the chill off, dry- 
 ing them gently with a soft towel. 
 
 tleoipe for "Weak Eyes. 
 Makd a strong decoction of camomile, boiled in fresh cow's 
 «Hk; with this let the patient's eyes be bal'hed several times a 
 day, as warm as can be suffered without uneasiness. ' Persons 
 almost blind have been cured by persevering in the use of this 
 J>rescription. It is proper, however, to observe, that frequently 
 five or six weeks' bathing of the eyes is necessary. 
 
 Frecautiona against Consumptioiia. 
 
 No doubt an adhesion to the following Counsel will eounteract 
 
 all Ordinary predisposition to consumptions. Avo^d all spirituous 
 
 liquors, live temperately, wear flannel next to the skin, and tak^ 
 
 every ndorning half a pint of new milk, mixed with a wine-glass 
 
 Slander cannot make the subjects of it either belter or wetse. 
 
reasonable enjoyment. It is a beneficial employment, for whoever 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 535 
 
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 of the juice of green hoarliound. One who has tried it, says — ' 
 Four weeks use of the hoarhound and milk relieved the pains in 
 his breast, .enabled hioi to breathe deep, long, and free, strength- 
 ened and harmonized his voice, &c. 
 
 Gemedy for having Brack too muoli. Cold Water. 
 Persons who have imprudently drank of cold wat6r or any other 
 cold liquid when too much heated, should take doses of liquid 
 laudanum proportioned to the violence of the pain. From a tea- 
 spoonful to near a table-spoonful has been given before relief has 
 been obtained. 'The sooner taken, the better. 
 
 HcOT- td Take Salts, Senna, and Manna. 
 When the above is preferred to castor oil, for a purgative, take 
 the mixture in the following manner: Take half an ounce of 
 salts, half an ounce of senna, half an ounce' of manna, and put 
 them into a pint of hot water, covering the vessel. For an adult 
 give? one teacupful every half hour, till it operates. 
 
 Remedy for Chapped Hands. 
 
 Take one ounce of bitter almonds ; peel them find mash them 
 into a paste, with oil of sweet almonds and the yolk of an egg, 
 adding a little tincture of benzoin, so as to form a thick cream. 
 Now add a few drops of oil of caikway. It is to be rubbed on 
 the hands at night, and a soft kid glove is to be worn during the 
 treatment. 
 
 Hints to the Baldheaded. 
 
 According to the following extract from an editorial article in 
 the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, the easy and sure way 
 to prevent baldness, is to go bareheaded, or wear a wtU-venti- 
 lated hat: 
 
 " A refined civilization has brought with it a train of physica;l 
 evils which it is in the province of science to control or subdue. 
 Our tigh,t hats, our warm rooms, closely -fitting caps, silk night- 
 caps, from which the perspirable matter ciinnot escape, by their 
 combined agency, in connection with other influences, not alwtiys 
 easy to define, bring off the hair prematuiely, and turn it gray, 
 sooner than pereonal vanity is willing to exhibit such evidences 
 of decay. 
 
 And this is not all; the skin is actually in a low state of dis- 
 ease, the effects of which are recognized in the accumulation of 
 dandruff— desquamation of the epidermis. The bulbs of the 
 hair are inflamed also from the same cause, and from year to year 
 the hair degenerates and becomes thinner, and not unfrcquently 
 dnds in baldness. On all tliat part of the head not covered, 
 
 liberty is a blessing that most be earned before it can be enjoyed. 
 
A plant, ConBned in a glass ease, soon dies ; and ia- 
 
 636 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEUN ECONOMY. 
 
 viz. : from the back side, between the ears and on the temple, the 
 hair generally remains to extreme old age, however much the ver- 
 tex may be denuded. If females ' wore equally tight covering, 
 the hair would probably suffer very much in the same manner ; 
 but their light, airy bonnets admit of ventilation, and hence a bald- 
 headed woman would be a phenomenon. Who ever saw a bald- 
 headed Indian T We have had an opportunity of seeing various 
 tribes, in all the freedom of an unrestrained savage life, but a 
 sparse head of hair we have never noticed. Atmospheric expo- 
 sure conduces to the luxuriance of the hair, and a healthful con- 
 dition of the scalp," 
 
 Cure for the pUea. 
 The following simple application will certainly cu1-e this poost 
 distressing complaint. It has been tried by many and found 
 successful. Take three ounces of pulverized alum and place in 
 a belt made of cotton drilling, two inches in width, and wear 
 the belt around the body, above the loins. It should be worn 
 next the skin. Its operation is slow, but certain. 
 
 Recipe for 'WTiite Swelling and Felons. 
 To cure white swellings and felons, a correspondent of the 
 South- Western Farmer says, "Take copperas, blue stone, alum, 
 table salt, and flowers of sulphur, of each the size of a pea, put 
 them into a four-ounce via), and fill it with strong apple virte- 
 gar, and in twenty-four hours or less it is fit for use. If to be 
 applied to a bone felon on the finger, the skin is to be pared 
 with the razor, the vial being well shaken ; wet lint, and apply 
 it three times a day. It will instantly relieve pain, take out the 
 fever, and effect a cure. If a sore leg, the sore must be washed 
 twice a day with Castile soap — then apply the wet lint." Most 
 bruises and diseases of the flesh may be benefited and generally 
 cured, it is said, by this application. 
 
 A Prescription for the Cure of Bronchitis. 
 Croton oil, it has been said, will entirely remove this com- 
 plaint. For instaliee, a Presbyterian minister, resident in Greene 
 county, N. Y., who had been laid aside from his labors by th? 
 bronchitis, for three years, entirely recovered his voice by the 
 application of Croton oil to the surface of the throat, against 
 the organ affected. One drop daily, rubbed over the surface, 
 produced a singular but powerful eruption of the skin, which, as 
 it progressed, restored his voice to its full tone and vigor, so as 
 to enable him to commence public speaking anew. 
 
 A Recipe for the Cure of a Cold. 
 Drink a pint of cold water, on lying down in the bed. Or 
 
 If seDsnality be our only happiness, we tnay well envy the brutes. 
 
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 and the laws according to which they combfne with 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 537 
 
 take a spoonful of molasses in half a pint of water. Or, to one 
 spoonful of oatmeal and one spoonful of honey, add a piece of 
 butter the bigness of a nutmeg; pour on, gradually, near a pint 
 of boilmg water, and drink this on lying down in bed. 
 
 A Prescription for the Cure of a Cough. 
 Roast a large lemon very carefully, without burning ; when it 
 IS thoroughly hot, cut and squeeze it into a cup, upon three 
 ounces of sygar, finely powdered. Take a spoonful whenever 
 your cough troubles you. It is as good as it is agreeable to the 
 taste. Rarely has it been known to fail of giving" relief. 
 
 Another Recipe for a Cold or Cough. 
 
 The editor of the Baltim6re Farmer and Gardener says — that 
 the best remedy he ever tried in his family for coiigh or cold, 
 is a decoction of the leaves of the pine-tre«, sweetened with loaf 
 sugar, to be freely drank, warm, when going to bed at night, 
 and cold throughout the day. In some sections of the country 
 the_ pine-tree m.ay be found, where the lemon cannot be had. 
 It is a cheap remedy, and cannot possibly do injury. Try it, 
 therefore. 
 
 Another Remedy for the Cure of Colds. 
 Take two quarts of soft water ; put into it a quarter of a 
 pound of raisins, a large teaspoon of flaxseed, and two penny- 
 worth of the extract of liquorice. Let the whole simmer over 
 a moderate fire till reduced to one substance, adding to it, then, 
 a quarter of a, pound of sugar-candy, pounded, and a table- 
 spoonful of white vinegar, or lemon-juice. Drink half a pint on 
 going to bed, and take a little, also, whenever the cough becomes 
 troublesome. This is soothing and healing to the lungs, without 
 the opening qualities which engender fresh colds. Some think 
 it an infallible remedy, if properly used. It has been known to 
 cure colds in a few weeks, that had been thought fixed con- 
 sumptions. 
 
 An Application for Hoarseness. 
 Take of fresh-scraped horseradish root one drachm, with four 
 ounces of water, in a close vessel, to be made into syrup, adding 
 to it double its weight of vinegar. This is an approved remedy 
 for hoarseness. A teaspoonful has frequently been found suflS- 
 oient ; but, if not sufficient, continue to take it till a cure is 
 effected, which, it is said, cannot be long. 
 
 To Prevent Colds in Children. 
 The best preventive of colds in children is to wash them thor- 
 oughly every day in cold water, if they are strong enough to 
 
 
 In science, reason is our guide ; but in poetry, we are guided by taste. 
 
their odors are delightful. They are scattered over the 
 
 538 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 
 bear it; if not, add a little warm water,, and rub the skin dryi 
 This jteeps the pores open.. If they do talie cold, give them a 
 warm bath as soon as possible ; if that is not convenient, bathe 
 the feet and hands, and wash the body all over in warm water, 
 then give a cup of warm tea, and cover the patient in bed. 
 A Simple Cure for the Croup. 
 
 The Journal of Health says, when a child is taken with croup, 
 instantly apply cold water, ice water, if possible, suddenly and 
 freely to the neck and chest with a sponge. The breathing will 
 almost instantly be relieved. So soon as possible, let the suf- 
 ferer drink as much as he can ; then wipe it dry, cover it warm, 
 and soon a quiet slumber will relieve all anxiety. This is a 
 remedy requiring no delay, and within the reach of every family. 
 For Croup or Quinsy. 
 
 For a sudden attack of quinsy or croup, bathe the neck with 
 bear's grease, and pour it down the throat. A linen rag soaked 
 in sweet oil, butter or lard, and sprinkled with yellcjw Scotch 
 snuflF, is said to have performed wonderful cures in cases of 
 croup ; it should be placed where the distress is greatest. 
 Goose-grease, or any kind of oily grease, is as good as bead's 
 oil. Equal parts of camphor, spirits of wine, and hartshorn, 
 well mixed, and rubbed upon the throat, is said to be good for 
 the croup. Severe cases of croup have been cured by the 
 liberal application of cold water to the neck and breast, then 
 rubbing with a coarse cloth, till a glow is produced. 
 Treatment for Intense Cold. 
 
 Where the circulation and breathing are suspended from ex- 
 posure to cold, instead of carrying the body to the fire, or even 
 into a warm room, it should at first be removed to an apartment 
 without fire. The clothes should immediately be taken off, and 
 the whole body well rubbed with snow or cold water. When 
 this has been continued ten or fifteen minutes, we may restore 
 the temperature of' the body slowly, by using water made grad- 
 ually warnaer than at first by repeated small additions' of hot 
 water to it. 
 
 Treatment of Frost-bitten Parts. 
 
 By exposure to severe cold, the fingers, ears, and toes are 
 sometimes frozen. If, in such cases, artificial heat be too sud- 
 denly applied, mortification will ensue, and the frost-bitten 
 parts will spontaneously separate. Hence, they ought to be 
 thawed, either by rubbing them with snow, or immersing them 
 in cold water, and afterward applying warmth in the most 
 careful and gradual manner ; by which they will soon be re- 
 stored to their usual tone and activity. 
 
 Without happiness, wisdom is but a shadow, and virtue a name. 
 
sets of musclea and vessels on eaqh side ; we have two arms' 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEUN ECONOMY. 539 
 
 Horsera4ish a Cure for Hoarseness. 
 
 One drachm of the fresh-soraped root of this plf\nt, infused 
 with four ounces of water in a close vessel for two hours, and 
 made into a syrup with double weight of sugar, is an approved 
 recipe for removing hoarseness. A teiispoonful of this has often 
 proved suddenly effectual. 
 
 Liquorice Syrup for Cough. 
 
 The following medicine is represented to have performed such 
 extraordinary cures, that it is deemed proper to make it known 
 to the public. Take six ounces of Italian liquorice, cut it into 
 small pieces, and put into an earthen jar, with a gill of the best 
 white wine vinegar ; simmer together until the liquorice is dis- 
 solved ; then add two ounces of the oil of almonds, and half an 
 o^uce of the tincture of opium ; stir the whole well together, 
 and it is fit for use. Take two teaspooufuls when going to bed, 
 and the same quantity wiienever the cough is troublesome in the 
 daytime. 
 
 How to Make Paregoric. 
 
 This medicine is made by adding half a drachm of opinm, or 
 one ounce of laudanum, to a pint of spirit of any kind, and mix- 
 ing with them hfdf a drachm of flowers of benzoin, the same 
 quantity of the oil of aniae-seed, and one scruple of camphor. 
 The dose for an adult is three or four teaspoonfuls, and in pro- 
 portion for children. 
 
 Precaution Against Corpulence. 
 
 Persons who are inclined to be fat,' or who are in reality so, 
 should sleep on hard beds; take much exercise; never sleep 
 more than five or six hours ; and use well the flesh-brush, par- 
 ticularly over the joints. By these means, together with a proper 
 regimen, which means food and drink, the bulk of the body may 
 be reduced, and the flesh made firm and strong. 
 How to Cure Sore Throat. 
 
 Take a glass of olive oil, half a glass of spirits of turpentine, 
 mix them together, and rub the throat externally, wearing flan- 
 nel round it at the same time. It should be applied in the 
 early stages of the disease to insure entire success. Sweet oil 
 will answer equally well. 
 
 To Cleanse the Teeth and Improve the Breath. 
 
 To four ounces of fresh-prepared lime-water, add one drachm of 
 
 Peruvian bark, and wash the teeth with this water morning and 
 
 „ evenincr, before breakfast and after supper. It will destroy, the 
 
 ^ I tartar on the teeth, and remove any ofifensive smell from those 
 
 that are decayed. 
 
 Emulation looks out for merits, that she may exalt herself bv a victory. 
 
concerting the baser metals into gold, restored Mm to his 
 
 $40 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Another Cure for a Sore Throat. 
 
 Mix a pennyworth of pounded camphor with a winsTglass of 
 brandy, pour a small quantity on a lump of sugar, arid allow it 
 to dissolve in the mouth every hour. A third or a fourth dose 
 generally enables the patient to swallow-with ease. The Medi- 
 cal Journal says this has been effectual with this distressing 
 complaint in its worst stages; and we have been accustomed to 
 use it for thirty years. 
 
 How to Prevent Chilblains. 
 
 The most effectual way of guarding against chilblains, is to 
 accustom the skin to a moderate friction ; to avoid clothing the 
 parts too warmly; to ^void still more carefully sudden and 
 great alternations of heat and cold ; to take particular care not 
 to go into a warm room, or near a fire, out of the cold air ; and 
 to wash the parts frequently with cold water. 
 Dinretio Infusion. 
 
 Pound a handful of pumpkin or melon seeds, with a small 
 quantity of hard white sugar, to a smooth paste; then add a 
 quart of boiling water, and a quarter of an ounce of saltpetre, 
 or half an ounce of sweet spirits of nitre, and rub them well 
 together. This is a pleasant and mild diuretic, particularly use- 
 ful where the discharge of urine is attended with heat and pain. 
 A teacupful may be taken every hour or two by adults. 
 A 'Word to Hypochondriacs and Belicate Women. 
 
 Half the diseases of delicate women, and, in fact, nearly all 
 the diseases connected with hysterics and hypochondria, arise 
 for want of due exercise in the open, mild, and pure air. In- 
 stead of stewing in a close room, and indulging in moody and 
 gloomy anticipations, and instead of lying in a huge feather-bed 
 until nine or ten o'clock in the morning, dozing through morbid 
 drefims, and vainly courting sleep, the woman of delicate nerves 
 and infirm health, and .the gloomy hypochondriac, who has prob- 
 ably not sweated for months together, ought to spring from the 
 feathered couch by daylight; view the opening and brilliant 
 landscapes of nature, just kindling into life and beauty under the 
 beams of the rising sun, and breast the pure mountain breeze ! 
 The country is the place for all such persons. 
 
 Remedy for the Sting of the Bee. 
 
 It is asserted that the sting of the bee owes its poisonous na- 
 ture to its being an acid ; and therefore liquor potassia, by neu- 
 tralizing th? acid, becomes one of the best remedies. As it is 
 very caustic, and corrosive to the skin, it inust be applied at the 
 pi'ecise spot, on the point of a pin, or on the tip of a camel's 
 hair pencil. 
 
 Envy spies dut blemishes, that she may lower another by defeat. 
 
circle of wood to its trunk, indicates the age of the tree, 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 541 
 
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 How to Cure Poison. 
 
 It is stated in the Farmer's Advocate, that poison on the 
 hands or other parts, occasioned by the running ivy, or poison 
 vine, may be cured by rubbing the part a few times with lard. 
 If so, the same application may be a remedy for other kindred 
 affections. 
 
 Pills for Shortuess of Breath. 
 
 Take a quarter of an ounce of powder of elecampane-root, 
 half an ounce of powder of liquorice, as much flower of brim- 
 stone and powder of anise-seed, and two ounces of sugar-candy, 
 powdered. Make all into pills; with a sufficient quantity of tar. 
 Take four large pills when going to rest. This is an incompara- 
 ble medicine for an asthma. Or, take half a pint of the juice of 
 stinging nettles ; boil and skim it, and mix it up with as much 
 clarified honey. Take a spoonful morning and evening. 
 
 Direction for Medicinal Herbs. 
 
 Herbs, to be used for medicine, should be gathered early in 
 the morning, at the season when they are just beginning to 
 flower. The dust should be carefully washed or brushed from 
 them, and they should be dried by a gentle heat, as quick as 
 possible. When well dried, they should be well secured against 
 exposure to moisture. 
 
 How to Cure Burns and Scalds. 
 
 Apply the inner rind of elder, well mixed with fresh butter. 
 When tliis is bound on with a rag, plunge tlie part into cold 
 water. Thi? will suspend the pain'till the wound is healed. Or, 
 mix lime-water and sweet oil to the thickness of cream, and ap- 
 ply it with a feather several times a day. This has been found 
 a most effectual application. 
 
 Another Prescription for a Burn. 
 
 Beat an apple with salad oiluntil it is a poultice, pretty soft; 
 bind it on the part, and, as it dries, lay on fiesh. You must be 
 sure to pare, core, and beat your apple well, so as not to break 
 the skin about the burn. It is said nothing has been found so 
 sure to remove the fire, and it is cooling and soothmg in a high 
 degree. It is cheap, and always to be had m the season of 
 apples. 
 
 Another Prescription for Bums. 
 
 A correspondent of the New England Farmer says, that equal 
 parts of lime-water and sweet oil, mixed and incorporated, will 
 form a kind of soap, which makes an excellent application for 
 burns Also, that it is very efficacious in taking out the iiiffamma- 
 
 . calumniator wUl sometimes tell truths that are injurious to himself. 
 
So rich, and yet so industrious — so patient and perseTering in 
 
 642 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 P. 
 
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 lion, as well as for healing the wounds caused either by burns 
 or scalds. 
 
 Salve to Cure Bruises and Sores. ' 
 
 Take an ounce and a half of olive oil ; two ounces 6f white 
 diacula; and two ounces of bee's- wax ; let these ingredients be 
 dissolved together, and the salve is formed. It has been fre- 
 quently used with entire satisfaction, answering the best possi- 
 ble purpose. 
 
 An Ointment for Pain in the Side. 
 
 Beat two ounces of curamin-seed very fine ; sift it and mix it 
 in two spbonfuls of neat's-foot oil, and two spoonfuls of linseed 
 oil ; make it hot over the fire, and anoint the side with it. Dip 
 a flannel in the ointment, and lay it on as hot as you can bear 
 it. The application is easily made ; and if found efficacious, the 
 removal of the pain is cheaply had. 
 
 An excellent Healing Salve. 
 Take equal parts of rosin, bee's-wax, and sweet oil ; melt and 
 mix, stirring until cool. This is a good healing salv6 for all com- 
 mon sores ; but, if a more powerful remedy is needed, add to 
 this, when almost boiling hot, a quantity of red lead ; when 
 nearly cold, add a little of pulverized camphor. This should be 
 spread thin, and removed once or twice a day. 
 
 A Remedy for Bums and Scalds. 
 A physician of Philadelphia gives the following prescription : 
 Take soot from a chimney where wood is burned, rub it fine, 
 and rriix one part soot to three parts of hog's lard, or any kind 
 of fresh grease that is not salted ; spread this on linen or rauslin 
 for more perfect adaptation. In very extensive burns, the cloth 
 should be torn into strips. No other application is required until 
 the patient is well, except a repetition of this. 
 
 Prescription for Small Cuts and Wounds. 
 
 Moisten a piece of lint with a saturated solution of copal gum 
 in ether, and apply over the injured part. Moisten it once or 
 twice a day, by pouring a sufficient quantity over it, without re- 
 moving the lint. If it be a cut, care should be taken to bring 
 the eciges together, when the application, from its sticking 
 quality, will keep them in that state. A bandage may also be 
 applied ; but when the mischief is not very extensive, it is un- 
 necessary. 
 
 ' A Valuable Salve for Wounds. 
 
 Take neat's-foot and linseed oil, each one gill ; white and red 
 lead, each one quarter of a pound; gum myrrh and camphdr, 
 
 In dreaming, judgment is the only faculty of the mind that is dormant. 
 
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 greatest security ia in fl iglit, and in the study to avoid all the < 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 __^ 543 
 
 each one ounce; yellow wax, half an ounce; rosin, thiee 
 ounces ; alcohol, one ounce. Boil the neat's-foot oil till it has 
 done sparkling, stirring it at the same time ; then add the linseed 
 oil ; then the white lead, stirring it till it,begins to rise ; then add 
 the red lead, and boil it till the color changes ; let it cool and 
 add the other ingredients, dropping in the alcohol gradually, till 
 It IS cooled, when it will be completed. This is from the Medi- 
 cal Intelligencer. 
 
 An Excellent Liniment for Wounds. 
 A pint of strong vinegar, a, pint of soft soap, a handful of salt, 
 a tiable- spoonful of saltpetre, thoroughly mixed and set by, in a 
 bottle, for use. Use a vessel that will contain three or four 
 quarts, to allow for the effervescence of the liquid, while mixing. 
 In applying the mixture, use friction with the hands, forcibly for 
 rheumatism. For bruises, sprains, and swellings, it is very effi- 
 cacious. Do not despise it because it is so cheap and so easily 
 obtained. 
 
 Volatile Iiiniment, 
 This is a valuable preparation, to be rubbed on the skin as an 
 external stimulant in sore throats, rheumatism, spasms, and kin- 
 dred pains. After rubbing it well in, which should he continued 
 from twenty minutes to half an hour, flannel should be wrapped 
 around the afflicted part. Volatile liniment is made by mixing 
 equal quantities of spirits of hartshorn and sweet oil ; by addino- 
 to this mixture a teaspoonful or two of laudanum, tlie prepara- 
 tion will be much improved in its efficacy in relieving pain. 
 
 How to Cure a Wen. 
 
 Wash it with common salt, dissolved in water, every day, and 
 it will be removed in a short time. Or make a strong brine of 
 alum salt; simmer it over the fire. When thus prepared, wet a 
 piece of cloth in it every day, and apply it constantly fol- one 
 month, and the protuberance will disappear. 
 
 Prescription for Rheumatism. 
 
 Take every night two teaspoonfuls of the tincture of gum 
 guiacum, diluted in half a tumbler of water. This is a dose for 
 a grown person. If the stomach is weak, a less quantity. It 
 acts as a powerful stimulant, and produces gentle. perspiration. 
 By continuing in the use of this simple remedy, in which there 
 ■is no danger, many obstinate cases of rheumatism have been 
 cured. We have used it, and nothing else, for fifteen y«ars, for 
 protection against this disease. If the limbs are affected by it, 
 they may, at the same time, be bathed in hot whisky or New 
 England rum, well seasoned with Cayenne pepper. 
 
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 In conversation, persons should confine themselves to what they understand. 
 
yet remain quite \fhole, witboijt the least flaw or hole in it ; 
 
 544 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 
 SovT Xo Make Opodeldoc. 
 Take one quart of spirits of wine, half a jiound of white soap, 
 two ounces of guni camphor, one-fourth of an ounce oil origa- 
 mun; cut the soap fine, and put all together in a tin canister, 
 or some safe vessel, and dissolve the whole on a moderate fire, 
 stirring it often with a pine stick. When nearly cool, and before 
 it coagulates^ put it in proper vials. This is an excellent appli- 
 cation for bruises, burns, sprains, and sores. 
 
 Medicinal Use of Mustard Seed. 
 About a teaspoonful, taken in the grain, moistened in a little 
 cold water, before breakfast every morning, will have a salutary 
 effect, in the spTing of the year, On constitutions predisposed to 
 att?icks of the chill and, fever. Its tendency is to carry off the 
 bile and warm the blood. 
 
 How to Make Indian Gruel for Invalids. 
 Take one quart of boiling water, and stir in two or three table- 
 spoonfuls of finely-sifted Indian meal, previously mixed with a 
 little cold water. Add salt, to your taste, and let the mixture 
 boil for fifteen or twenty minutes. A small quantity of pulver- 
 ized crackers, a few raisins, or a little sugar added, will render 
 it more palatable. 
 
 Good Drinks to be TTsed in Fevers. 
 
 Lemon-water, made from the lemon cut in slices, with a littJe 
 sugar. The water applied should be of boiling heat. Currants 
 or cranberries scalded make an excellent drink, with each a little 
 sugar. Or, tamarinds prepared in a similar way. Or, put a little 
 tea sage, two sprigs of balm, a little wood sorrel, into a stone 
 jug, having first washed and dried them ; add to the above a 
 few thin slices of lemon ; and to the whole pour in three pints 
 of boiling water ; th« mass being sweetened and covered close. 
 Apple-water is also innocent and palatable ; made by cutting 
 two large apples into slices, and then pouring up6n them two 
 quarts of boiling water, which is afterward to be well strained 
 and sweetened. ' 
 
 Hov7 to Prepare Arrow-Root 
 
 Put two teaspoonfuls of the powder into a basin ; mix them 
 smooth with a few teaspoonfuls of cold water, and let another 
 person pour boiling water over the mixture while you continue 
 to stir it, until it forms a kind of starchy-looking substance. Thus 
 prepared, it may be used in the same manner as gruel. It is 
 well adapted for the food of infants, because it is less liable to 
 ferment than either gruel or barley-water ; and, for the same 
 reason, it is the best fluid nourishment for those 'who are afflicted 
 
 Ladies of fashion starve their happiness to feed their vanity. 
 
er, that the happiness cf children is promoted, and that good and 
 
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 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 545 
 
 with diseases of indigestion. As it is of itself insipid, a little 
 milk or wine may be mixed with it. 
 
 Barley-Water. 
 Upon one ounce of pearl, or common barley, after it has been 
 well washed in cold water, pour half a pint of boiling water, and 
 then boil it for a few minutes ; the water must then be strained 
 off and thrown away ; afterward a quart of boiling water must 
 be poured over the barley ; and which should then be boiled 
 down to one pint and a quarter, and strained off. The barley- 
 water, thus made, is clear and mucilaginous ; and, when mixed 
 witii an equal quantity of good milk and a small portion of sugar, 
 is an excellent substitute for the mother's milk, when infants 
 are, unfortunately, to be brought up by hand. Without milk, 
 it is one of the best beverages for all acute diseases, and may 
 have lemon-juice, raspberry vinegar, apple tea, infusion of tam- 
 arinds, or any other acidulous substance that is agreeable to the 
 palate of the patient, mixed with it. 
 
 The Headache. 
 This disease is produced by a violation of the laws of the 
 brain, and every time it is repeated it produces an effect ; and 
 in this way leads to a premature death of the parts ; it also 
 produces insanity. One part may give pain without the other 
 being sensibly affected ; it generally swells and presses against 
 the skull, which causes some to say, " My head aches as if it 
 would split," arid to make promises that they will not bring 
 it on again ; but the assertion coming from a diseased mind,, is 
 
 soon forgotten. 
 
 A Cure for the Earache. 
 
 Take a stick of green walnut, sometimes called hickory, lay it 
 on the fire, and when it burns, a sap will run out of the ends of 
 it ; take a few drops, and let them fall into the ear. This is said 
 tote a certain cure. When walnut cannot be obtained, take an 
 onion and roast it, so as to have it hot ; then take out the heart 
 whole, and put it into the ear, and bathe the parts around the 
 ear with hot vinegar and salt; then lay a hot brick next to the 
 head, covered, and wet with vinegar— taking some warmmg tea, 
 to guard the stomach, such as sage, catnip, or any of the mmt 
 teas, and some gentle physic to move the bowels thoroughly. 
 Directions for the Treatment of Corns. 
 
 Never cut your corns; it is dangerous. To remove them 
 when thev become hard, soak them in warm water, and then, 
 with a small pumice -stone, rasp down the corn. Let persons 
 try this, and they will never use a knife afterward. Corns, im- 
 properly treated, have often led to serious lameness. 
 
 13- 
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 There can be no Christianity where there is n o charity. 
 35 
 
meat mikej up with vegetables, and flaVored with parsley, 
 
 546 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 .2 
 
 .a 
 
 A Cure for the Ague and Fever. 
 
 Half an ounce of cloves, half an ounce of cream of tartar, one 
 ounce of Peruvian baib, well pulverized. Put them into a bot- 
 tle of best port wine, and take the decoction or tincture, on the 
 well days, as fast as the stomach will receive it. In more than 
 five hundred cases this has been known to prove efficacious. 
 Recipe for the Cure of Diarrhcea. 
 
 Parch half a pint of rice, until it is perfectly brown, boil it 
 down as usually done, and eat it slowly, and it will check, if not 
 entirely stop, the most violent diarrho3a in a few hours. Ordi- 
 narily, a little brandy — say half a wine-glassful, with loaf-sugar 
 dissolved in it, will have the same effect. Howe^^er, it is better, 
 in all eases, to avoid alcohol even as a medicine, if other anti- 
 dotes can be had. In the more obstinate cases, where brandy 
 is used, its efficacy is increased by stirring it with a red-hot iron. 
 Cure for Cholera Morbus. 
 
 After burning a cork thoroughly, pour on it a teaspoonful of 
 brandy, then mash it well witli loaf-sugar and a little nutmeg or 
 essence of peppermint and water. Tliis is a safe recipe, which 
 has almost invariably been efficacious in curing the cholera mor- 
 bus and bilious colic. 80 says a Boston editor. 
 Prescription for the Toothache. 
 
 It is said that this afflicting disorder can be immediately relieved 
 by holding in the mouth a mixture of salt, vinegar, and spirits, 
 in the proportion of a table-spoonful of spirit, the same quantity 
 of sharp vinegar, and a teaspoonful of salt. We think it may 
 answer sometimes, but not always. 
 
 Presoription for Sick Beadache. , 
 
 To remove an attack of the sick headache, a correspondent in 
 one of the monthly journals recommends the patient to take a 
 spoonful of ginger, mixed with lump sugar, in a tumbler three- 
 fourths full of water, with chill off; to sit foi- a quarter of an 
 hour with the feet in water, agreeably warm, and to apply a 
 napkin wrung out with cold water to the temples or forehead, 
 whichever appears the most affected. 
 
 Another Prescription for the Toothache. 
 
 Rub well the teeth and gums with a hard tooth-brush, using 
 the flour of sulphur, as a tooth-powder, every night on going to 
 bed — and if it is done after dinner it will be best. This is an 
 excellent preservative of the teeth, and void of any unpleasant 
 smell. 
 
 Ho'w to Hemove Warts. 
 
 Nitrate of silver cures those troublesome excrescences, called 
 
 Hypocrisy can beat calumny even at her own weapons. 
 
eea by marine polypi, though the sea itself is fathomless. 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 547 
 
 warts, in an extremely simple' and harmless manner. The 
 method of using it is to dip the end of the caustic in a little 
 water, and to rub it over the warts. In the course of a few 
 times, by so doing, they will be gone. The muriate of ammo- 
 nia is likewise a very useful remedy. Out of twenty years* 
 practice, says a medical correspondent in the Monthly Magazine, 
 he has never known the above remedies to fail. 
 
 Best Mode of Giving Medicine to Infants. 
 
 It is best for persons of every age, and particularly for infants, 
 that thej' swallow as little medicine as possible ; but since it is 
 sometimes indispensable, we have reflected on, and pra-cticed all 
 the different modes of administering it which are in common 
 use, and find none is so convenient as to give it in the form of 
 powder ; to place the powder, mixed with a little fine sugar, on 
 the tongue, and give the child the breast. So says the editor 
 of the Medical Intelligencer. 
 
 Another Applioation for the Cure of Corns. 
 
 Mr. Cooper, in his Dictionary of Surgery, gives the following 
 receipt as an infallible cui-e for corns : Take two ounces of gum 
 ammoniac, two ounces of yellow wax, six drachms of verdigris ; 
 melt them together, and spread the composition on a piece of 
 soft leather or linen ; cut away as much of th« corn as you can 
 with a knife before you apply the plaster, which must be re- 
 newed in a fortnight, if the corn is not by that time gone. Should 
 this not cure, large boots and shoes will. 
 
 Another Eecipe for Warts and Corns. 
 
 Take the inner rind of a lemon, steep it for four-and-twenty 
 hours in distilled vinegar, and apply it to the warts. It must 
 not be left on the part above three hours at a time, and is to be 
 applied fiesh every day. Or divide a red onion and rub the 
 warts well with it, or anoint them with the milky juice of the 
 herb mercury several times, and they will gradually waste 
 away. 
 
 Walnuts used as Cathartics. 
 
 Get green walnuts, fit for pickhng, put them into a stone jar, 
 fill it with moist sugar, at the proportion of one pound to forty 
 nuts ; place the jar in a saucepan of boiling water for about three 
 hours, taking care that the water does not boil into the jar, and 
 keep it simmering the whole time. If the sugar, when dissolved, 
 does not tiover them, put in more. Cover it close, and in six 
 months it will be a first-rate cathartic, constantly growing better 
 with age. One walnut is a suflScient dose for a child six years 
 old, and in the same.propoition for others, 
 medicine, but is agreeable to the taste. 
 
 It is not only a good 
 
 The upright fears the eye of God more^han the tongue of man. 
 
number of mioute living beings, \rhich, from their general 
 
 548 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 O 
 
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 bo 
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 i 
 
 f 
 
 Hecipe for the Cure of Felon. 
 Take a piece of rock salt, about tlie size of a butternut or 
 English walnut, and wrap it up closely in a green cabbage-leaf, 
 but if not to be had, in a piece of brown paper, well moistened 
 with water. Lay it on embers, and cover it up so as to roast ; 
 when it has been in about twenty minutes, take it out and pow- 
 der it as finely as possible. Then take some hard soap, and mix 
 the powdered salt with it, so as to make it a salve. If the soap 
 should contain but little turpentine, none need be added. Apply 
 the salve to the part affected, and in a short time it will totally 
 destroy it, and remove the pain. 
 
 How to Make Sticking Plaster. 
 To one pound of resin, melted, and while on the fire, add one 
 wine-glassful of bole Armeniac, rubbed fine, one wine-glassful 
 Venice turpentine, and a lump of sheep's suet, the size of a wal- 
 nut ; stir well, when thoroughly heated and mixed ; pour it into 
 an open-mouthed jar, and stir till cold. 
 
 To Remove Motes or Dust from the Eye. 
 
 Fill a dish or bowl with clear cold water, quite to the brim, 
 and place the affected eye in such a position as to be eoraplelely 
 in the water ; then successively and rapidly open and shut the 
 eye for a few minutes, and the dust or mote will completely dis- 
 appear. If at work, away from the house, a brook or spring 
 will answer the purpose. 
 
 Cure for Dysentery. 
 A correspondent of the Franklin Farmer gives the following 
 recipe, which, the editor says, has been applied by himself with 
 surprising eDScacy : Take bark of the sweet gum tree ; no mat- 
 ter whether green or dried ; steep a handful of it in a pint of 
 water, until the liquor, in appearance, resembles good coffee ; 
 then drink it clear, or sweetened with loaf-sugar. If the case is 
 very bad, a little brandy may be added to the decoction. He 
 says he has known the worst cases of dysentery, cholera mor- 
 bus, and bloody flux, to be cured by it in a few hours. 
 
 How to make Beef Tea. 
 
 Cut a pound of lean gravy meat in thin slices, put it into a 
 quart and half a pint of cold water, set it over a gentle fire, 
 where it will become gradually warm ; when the scum rises, let 
 it continue simmering gently for about an hour, then strain it 
 through a sieve, or a napkin, let it stand ten minutes to settle, 
 and then pour off the clear tea. This is one of the common re- 
 storatives given to persons who are recovering from sickness. 
 
 It is said man is frequently envied for bis wealth, but never for his health. 
 
eggs of the female the young are hatched in twelve or four- 
 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 649 
 
 Fresciiptions for Cure of Asthma. 
 
 Take a pint of cold water every morning, washing the head 
 therein immediately aft«r, and using the cold bath once a fort- 
 night or oftener. dr, cut an ounce of stick liquorice into sli- 
 ces. Steep this in a quart of wate.r twenty-four hours, and use 
 it, when you are worse than usual, as common drink. This has 
 been kno\vn to give relief. Or, take half a pint of tar-water 
 twice a day. Of', live a fortnight on boiled carrots only. It 
 seldom fails. Or, take fi'om ten to twenty drops of elixir of 
 vitriol, in a glass of water, three or four limes a day. Or, into 
 a quart of boiling water put a teaspoonful of balsamic ether, 
 receive the steam into the lungs, through a fumigator, twice a 
 day. 
 
 -A Remedy for the Asthma. 
 
 Slake half a pound of quicklime with two quarts of hot water, 
 and stir in two spoonfuls of tar. Let it stand and settle. Take 
 half a pound of wild turnip, half a pound of milkweed roots, 
 and a small handful of lobelia ; bruise them and infuse them in 
 two quarts of wine ; place the whole in a warm place for twenty- 
 four hours, then strain and press, add to it lime and water, and 
 bottle it for use. Take a wine-glassful three times a day. It 
 is an excellent remedy for asthma, coughs, consumptions, and 
 hysterics. 
 
 Scald Head in Infants. 
 
 This complaint begins in brownish spots on the head, and in 
 a few days forms a scab, and discharges a thick, gluey matter, 
 that sticks among the hair. The sores gradually increase, until 
 the whole head is covered with a scab, discharging this matter, 
 which is very offensive. The hair is to be cut off as close as 
 possible, and the head washed every night and morning with 
 lime-water. This is easily prepared by slacking a piece of 
 quicklime, of the size of a hen's egg, in a quart of water, and 
 when settled, it is to be put into a bottle and corked for use. 
 Remedy for the Scurvy. 
 
 A German received a premium of twenty thousand pounds 
 sterling for introducing sourkrout or pickled cabbage into the 
 British navy. This vegetable is an antidote or preventive 
 against this dreadfu! disease called scurvy, which, for a length 
 of time, destroyed thousands of seamen on long voyages, who 
 were compelled to subsist on salt provisions. All acids are con- 
 sidered good in scurvy. 
 
 A Simple Medicines for Dyspepsia. 
 
 A little rhubarb-root chewed at night, or the following simple 
 pill, will be of service in many cases. For the pill, take of rhu- 
 
 Love has been called an akhynaist, which tranemutea poison into food. 
 
grow again ; so will the feet of a salanander aod the claws 
 
 550 MISCELLANIES IN HYGEIAN ECONOMY. 
 
 JX 
 « 
 
 a 
 
 •1 
 
 
 barb, in powder, half a dmchra ; of Castile soap, one drachm ; 
 and of ipecacuanha, in powder, half a drachm ; mix them well 
 together in honey or any syrup, to which add a little powdered 
 ginger, to make the mixture pleasarit to the stomach ; make it 
 into thirty pills, one of which may be taken every morningj noon, 
 and night ; this will give a tone to the stomach and bowels, but 
 as an alterative, and keep them gently open. This is an inno- 
 cent and most useful pill, and will afford great relief, with 
 proper exercise and diet, which must never be neglected. A 
 teaspoonful or a table-spoonful of common charcoal, pounded 
 very fine, and taken three times a day in a tumbler of cold 
 water, is an excellent remedy in this complaint. 
 
 Dyspepsia Cured -without Medicine. 
 The majority of dyspeptic cases may be cured without medi- 
 cine, if the patients will adopt systematic rules for exercise, rest, 
 and diet. The disease is a horrible one ; for it paralyzes both 
 body and mind, and often makes existence a burden ; still, it 
 can ordinarily be overcome by proper regard to these three par- 
 ticulars. Biding horseback is, perhaps, the best exercise, es- 
 pecially for women afflicted with it. Every one's own experience 
 will tell what diet is most appropriate to the particular condi- 
 tion of the stomach. 
 
 Recipe for the Cure of Quinsy. 
 Take a parcel of hops, in quantity proportioned to the 
 amount of medicine to be prepared. Let them be simmered in 
 water a short time, till their strength is extracted. Let the 
 liquid then be strained and duly sweetened with sugar. It may 
 be given to children or adults, in doses suited to the age, until 
 relieved. 
 
 A Simple Hemedy for Whooping-cottgh. 
 It is said, if you mix castor oil and molasses, in equal pro- 
 portions, and give a teaspoonful whenever the cough is trouble- 
 some, there will be almost immediate relief, and will facilitate 
 an entire cure. It is also serviueable in violent attacks of the 
 croup. In the whooping-cough, the bowels should be kept 
 open, by frequent doses of castor oil, if found necessary. 
 
 A good Plaster, for a Cough. 
 Take bee's-wax, Burgundy pitch, and rosin, each an ounce ; 
 melt them together, and then stir in three-quarters of an ounce 
 of common turpentine, and half an ounce of oil of mace. Spread 
 it on a piece of sheep's leather, grate some nutmeg over the 
 whole plaster, and apply it quite waim to the region of the 
 stomach. 
 
 A spaniel prefers puuishment from his master to caresses from a stranger. 
 
under the sea in remote ages, the spawn may exist in the sand, 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 551 
 
 to 
 I 
 
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 ^ 
 
 Use of the Lungs. 
 On examination, the lungs will be found full of innumerable 
 little holes, like a sponge. These holes are the cells into which 
 the air enters when we breathe. So great is their number, that 
 they have been calculated to amount to 170,000,000, forming a 
 surface thirty times greater than the human body. Every one 
 of these, cells is provided with a 'network of blood vessels, by 
 means of which the blood is brought into immediate contact 
 with the air over every portion of their surface. When this 
 great amount is taken into consideration, we shall at once feel 
 how necessary it is to supply pure air to the lungs with «very 
 breath we breathe. 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY; 
 
 ISCLODINO 
 
 RECEIPTS, APOTHEGMS, LACONICS, MAXIMS, COUNSELS, AND EX- 
 PERIMENTS OF A WELL-INSTRUCTED HOUSEWIFE, 
 RELATING TO HJIR VARIOUS DUTIES. 
 
 Wk have neither the leisure, space, nor knowledge of such 
 matters, to presume on furnishing, in the Farmer's Every Day 
 Book, a -complete programme of culinary duty. But knowing 
 that cook-books are not as common in the country as they should 
 be, and that most of these books are rather adapted to the do- 
 mestic habits of the city than of rural life, we have gathered up 
 from approved sources, sans cotillon, some of the more import- 
 ant kitchen didactics, of use, we trust, to the wiTe of every farmer. 
 The apprehension that we thus contribute to ihe good living of 
 so large a class of the community— the yeomanry of the coun- 
 try—will be to us a source of great satisfaction. Nevertheless, 
 we recommend to every family to have one or more books 
 wholly devoted to domestic economy. The best one known to 
 us is Webster's Encyclopaedia of Domestio Economy. No per- 
 son could well estimate it above its real value, or would part 
 with it for double its cost, provided. another could not be had. 
 There are numerous cheaper works, more or less valualjle. 
 How to Make Good Coffee. 
 
 Put a sufficient quantity of coffee into the pot, and pour boil- 
 ing water on it ; Stir it, and place it on the fire ; bring it to a boU, 
 
 If you want enemies, excel others; if you wiuit friend., let others excel you. 
 
tribe. Some are adorned with fringes of Tea tliers, and the ri%s -or 
 
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 ■3 
 
 S52 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 and as soon as four or five bubbles have risen, take it off tlie fire 
 and pour out a teacupful and return it ; set it down for a min- 
 ute or so ; then pour gently over the top one teacup of cold 
 water; let it stand a ininute. longer, and it will be bright and 
 fine. The cold water, by its greater density, sinks jmd carries 
 th« ground with it to the bottom of the pot. 
 Barley Coffee. 
 
 A Western paper mentions tliat barley is much superior to 
 rye and wheat as a substitute fof green cofiFee. Take clean , 
 good barley, and wash it well through two w three waters ; then 
 put it into boiling water over the fire, and let it boil until it 
 swells sufficiently to burst some of the grains ; then take it off, ; 
 and drain it, and dry it in the sun, or in an oven after baking, 
 or slowly by the fire. It is then ready to parch as coffee. It 
 must be boiled and cleared in the same manner as coffee. 
 Canrots for Coffee. 
 
 The Prairie Fanner gives the following recipe for making cof- 
 fee from carrots. Wash and scrape the outside off; then cut 
 them in pieces the size of about half an inch square ; then dny 
 on a stove. Parch and grind like cofiee ; or mix equal portions 
 of carrot and coffee, and grind and ttiake your coffee as usual. 
 It makes a good di'ink, and is used by many German emigrants, 
 who say that in their native country there are large factories, 
 where it is packed in pound papers and sold. 
 
 Recipe for Drying Apples. ^ 
 
 If you would have your apples free from worms, delay the 
 drying till the flies have disappeared ; for as sure as they can 
 have access to them, they will leave the nit for the worm. The 
 experiment which taught me this was accidental. I had occa- 
 sion to dry some apples after the weather became cold, and I 
 kept the late-dried apples through the summer, without a worm 
 infesting them, while the others became wormy. When dried, 
 they must be kept in a tight chest or sack. The above is from 
 a correspondent of the Genesee Farmer. 
 
 Directions for Making Good Sausages. 
 Take thirty pounds of meat, chopped fine ; eight ounces of 
 fine salt ; two and a half ounces of pepper ; two teacups of sage ; 
 and one and a half cups of sweet marjoram, passed through a 
 fine sieve. For the latter, thyme or summer savory can be sub- 
 stituted, if preferred. 
 
 How to Increase the Quantity of Cream. 
 While the milking of your cows is in progress, let your pans be 
 placed in a kettle of boiling water. Strain the milk into one of' 
 
 It is more easy to pull down, than build up — and to destroy, than to preaerre. 
 
qiicdn liaa produced 100,000 bees in a senson. A Bwarm 
 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 6£3 
 
 the pans taken hot from the kettle, and cover llie same with 
 auollier of the hot pans ; and proceed, in hke manner, witli the 
 whole mass of milk, and you will find that you will have double 
 liie quantity of good rich cream ; that Tou'will get double the 
 quantity of sweet and delicious butter, "Make a trial. 
 Dutcli Method of Making Butter. 
 
 After having milked their cows, the Dutch leave the milk to 
 get quite cold before they put it in the pans. When placed 
 therein, they do not permit it to stand for the cream to rise move 
 than about four hours. They then stir it together more inti- 
 mately, to combine the milk and cream, and continue thus to do 
 at least two or three times a day. If it be agitated in this man- 
 ner, as occasionally happens, till the whole be quite quick, the 
 butter thus ob'lained is the most highly esteemed. As soon as 
 it acquires the usual consistency, it is churned commonly about 
 an hour, till the butter begins to form ; cold water is then added, 
 proportioned to the quantity of milk, for the purpose of facilitat- 
 ing jli^^. separation of the buttermilk. The butter being properly 
 conjjp, it is taken from the churn, and repeatedly washed and 
 ^,^ie3'in fresh water, till the buttermilk is all expressed, and 
 i'^nTjwnger retains any linge of white. By this simple method 
 not only far more butter is made from the same quantity of milk 
 than in any either way, but the butter itself is firmer, sweeter, 
 and continues longer fresh than the generality of butter ; while 
 the buttermilk is infinitely more agreeable to the palate. 
 A ■Word of Advice to Dairy Women. 
 
 Let your rennet, or the liquid prepared from it, be put into 
 the milk of a temperate heat or warmness. This hastens the 
 coagulation. And after the curd is formed, do not let any por- 
 tion of it be starved, to use an English dairy term, that is, get 
 any colder than your own hand. 
 
 Clarified Butter. 
 
 Melt fresh butter, by placing it in a vessel set in a water bath ; 
 let it settle, and pour off the clear into an earthen basin or pot, 
 set in cold water, to cool it as quickly as ppssible, without letting 
 it crystalize. Thus prepared, it will keep a long lime, without 
 becoming rancid or losing its original flavor. 
 To Purify Rancid Butter. 
 
 Melt it with a slow fire, in a well-glazed earthen vessel ; to 
 which put soft water, working them well together, and when it 
 is cold, take away the curd and whey at the bottom ; do it a 
 second and a third time in rose-water, always working them welt 
 together. The butter thus claiified will be of the sweetest, de- 
 licious taste;* . 
 
 We strive as bard to hide our hearts fram ourselves as from others. 
 
by the strength of its folds. It usually catches its prey by hang- 
 
 554 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 t 
 
 J 
 
 How to Make Salt Butter Fresh. 
 ''Put four pounds of salt butter into a churn, with four quarts 
 of new milk, and a small portion of arnotto. Churn them to- 
 gether, and, in about an hour, take out the butter, and treat it 
 exactly as fresh butter, by washing it in water, and adding the 
 customary quantity of salt. This is a singular experiment. The 
 butter gains about three ounces in each pound, and is in every 
 respect equal to fresh butter. It would be greatly improved by 
 the addition of two or three ounces of fine sugar, in powder. 
 
 To Remove the Taste of Turnips from Milk and Batter. 
 
 The taste of the turnip is easily taken from milk and butter, 
 by dissolving a little nitre in spring water; which, being kept in 
 a bottle, and a small teacupful put into eight gallons of milk,, 
 when warm from the cow, entirely removes any taste or flavor 
 of the turnip. 
 
 To Prevent Froth, in Churning, on Cream. 
 
 A lady says she had nearly resolved to relinquish churning in 
 winter, having tried everything she had lieard of, to prevent the 
 rising of froth, till she was advised to use saleratus. This she 
 did, and had no trouble afterward. 
 
 Method of Salting Butter. 
 Take of sugar one part, and clean salt two parts ; beat them 
 well together, and put it by for use. To every pound of butter, 
 when freed from the buttermilk, take one ounce of the prepara- 
 tion, and mix it thoroughly together. Butter salted in this 
 manner, and put down in tubs, with a little melted butter poured 
 over the surface, to fill up every vacuity, before the top is put 
 on, will keep for many years. 
 
 Bread and Cake ivithout Saleratus. 
 
 Put two teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar with one quart of 
 flour, and mix well together. Then dissolve three-quarters of 
 a teaspoonfiil of super carbonate of soda in a sufficient quant'ty 
 of sweet milk ; mix the whole perfectly, and bake immediately. 
 If water be used instead of milk, add a little shortening. 
 
 If the above directions be strictly followed, bread will be made 
 lighter than sponge, and of a beautiful color; and it is believed 
 that every person having once seen and tasted bread made in 
 this manner, will decidedly prefer it to every other preparation 
 of the same kind. It is also very fine for pudding crust. 
 
 How to Make Sago Bread. 
 
 With two pounds of sago, well soaked in water or milk 
 some hours, mix the same quantity of wjieat flour. If prefer- 
 
 He who serves God has the best master in the world. 
 
Bounded Inm in the ear, and said, " She talks of forty years old ; she 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 
 556 
 
 red, a little Indian meal, also. Saleratus and yeast to be used 
 as with other kinds of bread. When well raised, it should have 
 a good quick bake. It is delicious, healthy, and cheap. For 
 invalids it is particularly good. 
 
 How to Make a Nice Com Bread. 
 
 Stir up one quart of Indian meal with milk, and two beaten 
 eggs and a table-spoonful of melted butter; pour the batter into 
 a bakepan, and slowly bake, either with coals on the lid, and 
 sitting on them, or hung over the fire. This is a nice process, 
 and upon the baking greatly depends the flavor of the bread. 
 Eaten warm, with butter, it is found to be a most delicious 
 article. 
 
 How to Make Hico Bread. 
 
 Boil half a pound of rice in three pints of water till the whole 
 becomes thick and pulpyl With this, and yeast, and six pounds 
 of flour, make your dough. In this way, it is said, as much 
 bread will be made, as if eight pounds of "flour, without the rice, 
 had been used. 
 
 How to Make Bostou Brown Bread. 
 A person once accustomed to this bread will never willingly 
 live without it. To make it, take one quart of rye meal ; two 
 quarts of Indian meal— if not fresh, scald it ; half a teacupful 
 of molasses ; two teaspoonfuls of salt ; one teaspoonful of sale- 
 ratus; one teacupful of home-brewed yeast, or half the quantity 
 of distillery yeast ; make it as stifl" as can be stirred with a spoon, 
 with warm water, and let it rise from night till morning. Then 
 put it into a large, deep pan, smooth the top with the hand, 
 dipped in cold water, let it stand a few minutes, and then bake 
 it in an oven five or six hours. If put in late in tlie day, it may 
 remain in the oven over night. 
 
 A Rich Com Bread. 
 Take one egg, well beaten ; half a pint of thick cream ; Indian 
 meal sufficient to form a thick batter ; a small quantity of salt; 
 add half a teaspoonful of saleratus, dissolved in a small quantity 
 of water ; after mixing thoroughly, put it into the pans or oven, 
 and bake immediately. 
 
 The Tincture of Roses. 
 Take leaves of the common rose, place them, without pressing 
 them, in a bottle, pour good spirits upon them, close the bottle, 
 and let it stand until it is required for use. This tincture will 
 keep for years, and yield a perfume little inferior to otto of roses. 
 A few drops of it will suffice to impregnate the atmosphere of a 
 room with a delicious odor. Common vinegar is greatly im- 
 proved by a very small quantity being added to it. 
 
 He hath a good judgment who doth not rely on his own. 
 
presently ipterrupted him, to give liim an answer. AVhereunto 
 
 556 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY; 
 
 3 
 o 
 
 The Art of Making Dipped Candles. 
 
 Tlie tallow, when melted, should be ladled into a wooden ves- 
 sel of convenient width and depth, which has been previously 
 heated by filling it with boiling water for an hour or more. Fill 
 the vessel within an inch of the top with melted tallow, and 
 keep it at that height, by adding hot tallow, or hot water. By 
 this means the candles will be kept of a full size at the top, 
 and not taper off to a point, as is often seen with country 
 candles. 
 
 The tallow, when used for dipping eandles; should not be too 
 hot. A temperature that will allow the finger to be dipped in 
 without burning, is sufficiently hot, and at this temperature the 
 candles will take on the tallow very fast. The wicks should be 
 lowered into the melted taUow gradually, and should be lifted 
 out of the tallow so slowly that when the bottoms of the caiidles 
 are clear from the surface of the melted tallow, no tallow will 
 run off them. When the candles are raised quick out of the 
 melted tallow, the tallow will run off the candles in a stream, 
 whereas if the candles are raised slowly, not a particle of tallow 
 will fall from the candles. A few trials will satisfy any person 
 in this matter. If the tallow is boiling hot, the wiek will not 
 take on the tallow to any considerable extent. When candles 
 are raised out of the tallow rapidly, the candles will be large at 
 the bottom, and the tallow will extend below the wick, so that 
 when burnt in a candlestick, a piece of the candle will have no 
 wick in it ; and therefore, for burning, will be useless. 
 
 Where persons have no suitable wooden vessel, an iron vessel 
 will answer for a dipping vessel. When lallow has been thor- 
 oughly meltt'd over the fire, should it be dirty or impure, throw 
 into it, while hot, a small quantity of finely-powdered alum, and 
 in a short time a scum will be seen rising to the surface, in ap- 
 pearance like dirty froth. Skim this off as it rises. This scum 
 will rise for half an hour or more. These directions are plain, 
 and easily complied with, and one trial will be satisfactory. Per- 
 sons, by following these directions, will save more than one 
 half the usual labor of making candles, besides having better 
 candles. 
 
 An improvement in Making Candles. 
 
 Let the wick be steeped in lime-water, in which has also been 
 dissolved a quantity of common nitie or saltpetre. By this 
 means a purer flame and a .superior light is obtained. A more 
 perfect combustion is also insured ; sniiffing is rendered nearly 
 superfluous as in wax candles ; and the candles with wicks thus 
 prepared, will not melt and run down. The wicks, how- 
 
 Wealth is not his who obtains it, but bis who enjoys it. 
 
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 Ph 
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 wUh him, uicdestly saiU to h im, 'f What did jour holiness 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. gg. 
 
 tlpm '""f'l'\">»'-o»gWy dried before the tallow is put to 
 worTh i\}^l ^''" f "^ ^^^'^ T"^'^^ "^•^'^ '" tiis manner are 
 tTe licks '^''" '■' '■•^''^"^i'l'oittbis preparation of 
 
 How to Save Expense in Clothing. 
 
 Purchase that which is at once decent and the most durable • 
 and wear your garment, despitq the frequent changes of fashion 
 till It beconnes too defaced to appear decent; then turn it, and 
 wear it thenceforth as long as it protects the body. A blue 
 cpat IS as warm after fashion requires a green one as it ever was 
 A red shawl, in fashion to-day, is as warm as a black one, which 
 fashion requires, to-morrow. A few years hence your fame will 
 not depend upon the style, color, or quahty of the garments vou 
 wore m early life; the width of the brim to your father's hat • 
 or, the size and color of your mother's bonnet. 
 
 How to Make Fruit Gingerbread. 
 Four cups of flour ; one of butter ; one of sugar ; one of 
 molasses ; one of milk ; four eggs ; three teaspoonfiils of gin- 
 ger ; a teaspoonful of cloves and nutmegs; half a pound of cur- 
 rants and raisins; add the fruit last, and bake in pans, in an oven 
 not very quick. * 
 
 Molasses Gingerbread. 
 
 Four teacups of flour; two cups of molasses; half a cup of 
 butter; two cups of buttermilk ; a cap of good cream; three 
 eggs ; a table-spoonful of ginger ; and the same of sal'eratus. 
 The saleratus is to be dissolved in the buttermilk, and then the 
 whole mixed together. After it has. stood a short time, it may 
 be baked. 
 
 Sugar Gingerbread. 
 
 Take two pounds of flour ; one pound of butter ; one pound of 
 sugar; five eggs, well beaten ; two ounces of powdered ginger; 
 and a teaspoonful of pearlash. Then mix and bake as the mo- 
 lasses gingerbread. 
 
 Value of the Tomato. 
 The tomato is one of the most wholesome fruits that is culti- 
 vated. The plant is vigorous, hardy, and productive, and one of 
 the easiest to cultivate. It is adapted to all parts of the coun- 
 try, by starting it in the north in a hot bed, or some other mode 
 to forward the plants, which costs but a trifle. This fruit may 
 be cooked in twenty or thirty difierent ways, suiting the taste of 
 almost every person ; and to many it is very palatable indeed, 
 though most persons need to be accustomed to its use a while 
 before they rehsh it. 
 
 He who lives disorderly one year, doth not enjoy himself for five years. 
 
auEwer, -with many protestations, "that she knew no more of 
 
 958 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 a 
 
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 p. 
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 The tomato is excellent for bilious affections and for dyspep- 
 sia. A person who had been severely afflicted with the dyspepsia 
 for ten years, so that he could eat but very few common dishes 
 of food, procured some tomato seed, of which plant he had pre- 
 viously no knowledge, and he raised some fruit and used it as 
 food ; and he had jellies and other preparations made in the 
 fall, that he might use them when the season for fresh tomatoes 
 was over. By this simple remedy he was completely cured in a 
 few months of an obstinate disease, that had bid defiance to the 
 best medical skill for ten long years, for so they must have 
 seemed to the unfortunate invalid. 
 
 Directions for Tomato Catsup. 
 
 To a gallon of fekinned tomatoes add four table-spoonfuls of 
 salt, four do. of black pepper, half a spoonful of allspice, eight 
 red peppers, and three spoonfuls of mustard. All these ingre- 
 dients must be ground fine, and simmered slowly in sharp vine- 
 gar for three or four hours. As much vinegar is to be used as 
 to leave half a gallon of liquor when the process is over. Strain 
 through a wire sieve and bottle, and seal from the air. This 
 may be used in two weeks, but improves by age, and will keep 
 several years. 
 
 How to Preserve Totaatoes. 
 Take clean, ripe tomatoes, sufficient to cover the bottom of a 
 large kettle, and place it over a slow fire until their skins break, 
 which must then be peeled off; cut out the hard core, and slowly 
 boil the remainder until it becomes quite thick, and of a daik- 
 brown color, stirring it well to prevent burning. Spread it upon 
 plates about an inch in thickness, and dry in the sun for seven 
 Or eight days, afterward placing it in a moderately warm oven 
 until thoroughly dried. The substance thus prepared will keep 
 for years, and is so highly flavored, that a piece two inches 
 square, stewed in half a teacupful of water, will be sufficient to 
 mi.v with the gravy of five pounds of beef-steak. 
 
 Hov7 to Make Loaf Cake. 
 
 Six pounds of flour, three pounds of butter, three pounds of 
 sugar, one and a half dozen of eggs, three pounds of raisins, 
 half an ounce each of mace and nutmegs, half a pint of wine, 
 milk to wet the whole, with yeast ; first put the flour, half the 
 butter, half the sugar, and the yeast together; then raise it; 
 then add the rest, well • mixed ; put it into pans for baking, 
 using nutmeg and cinnamon according to taste. 
 
 Ho-w to Maka Plum Cake. 
 Take nine pounds of flour, nine fresh eggs, three pounds of 
 
 There are a great many aeses without having long ears. 
 
He answered, " Theirs." Then she asked him, Tf those fields . 
 
 MfSCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 559 
 
 fine sugar, one pint of yeast, one spoonful of rose-water ; spice 
 according to your own taste; and milk sufficient to wet it. 
 Knead it thoroughly, and bake it by a moderate but quick fire. 
 
 How to Make Wedding Cake. 
 Take eighteen pounds of flour, ten pounds of fine sugar, nine 
 pounds of butter, eleven nutmegs, eighteen eggs, five quarts of 
 milk, one quart of yeast, ten pounds of fruit, one ounce of mace, 
 one quart of wine, and one pint of brandy. The butter and 
 sugar are to be rolled together ; the other materials are then to be 
 mixed with the butter and sugar, putting the fruit in last, when 
 nearly ready for the oven. 
 
 How to Make Icing or Trosting for Cake. 
 Take two pounds of double-refined sugar, beat and sift it 
 through a fine sieve ; put into it a spoonful of starch, a penny- 
 worth of gum-arabic ; beat them all well together ; take the 
 whites oif four or five eggs, beat them well, and put in a spoon- 
 ful of rose-water, a spoonful of lemon-juice ; beat them with the 
 eggs : then mixing and beating the whole together, till the cakes 
 come from the oven, when the frosting is to be applied. 
 
 How to make Dough-Nuts, or Nut Cakes. 
 
 While your lard is melting to boil your cakes, mix two cups 
 of buttermilk and two of cream, with two or three eggs, one 
 teaspoonful of saleratus, and plenty of fine cinnamon, and flour 
 enough to roll ; made in this way, they are more tender, and 
 less liable to harden than when raised with yeast. 
 Recipe for Buckwheat Cakes. 
 
 To three pints of buckwheat flour, mixed into a batter, add 
 one teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, dissolved in water, and 
 one teaspoonful of tartaric acid, dissolved in like manner; first 
 apply the caibonate, stir the batter well, and then put in the 
 acid ; thus the use of yeast is entirely superseded, and light 
 cakes are insured. One great advantage is, that the baiter is 
 ready for baking as soon as made. 
 
 How to Make fritters. 
 
 Make a batter of eggs, flour, and milk. Apple fritters are 
 made by cutting large pared apples in slices, dipping the slices 
 in batter, and frying them separately. They are done when 
 slit^litly browned on "both sides. Another, and perhaps a more 
 common way, is to cut the apples in small pieces, and mix- them 
 with the batter, frying them, a spoonful in each fritter. Frit- 
 ters may be made with currants in the same manner. All frit- 
 ters should be sprinkled over with fine sugar. 
 
 He keeps the road well enough who gets rid of bad company. 
 
loss of fortane ; loss of temper ; ruin of families ; defraud- 
 
 660 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 ^ 
 
 HovT- to Make Griddle Cakes. 
 Best way to make them is to use milk altogether, instead of 
 water ; two eggs being allowed for a pint of corn meal ; the 
 milk being a little warmed, and the whole to be well beaten up 
 with a spoon or ladle. There must be milk enough used to 
 make the whole so liquid as that it will pour out of the sauce- 
 pan on the griddle. A spoonful of wheat flour and lard of the 
 size of a walnut may be added. 
 
 Ho-w to Make Rice Sponge Cake. 
 
 Nine eggs, the weight of them in sugar ; the weight of six in 
 rice flour ; have the sugar finely sifted ; mix the sugar and rice 
 together ; have the whites, and the yolks beat separately ; pour 
 the eggs at the same time into the rice and sugar ; beat the 
 whole together about a quarter of an hour, and then add of the 
 essence of lemon twenty drops, or rose-water. 
 
 Ho'w tb Make 'Washington Cake. 
 Take two pounds of flour, one quart of milk, with an ounce of 
 melted butter ; put the milk and butter into the flour, wheij 
 about lukewarm ; add a pennyworth of yeast, three eggs, and 
 a teaspoonful of salt ; place it in pans over the night, and bake 
 it in the morning, in an oven, for three-quarters of an hour. 
 This is a favorite cake in Virginia, and derives its name from 
 General Washington, who was particularly fond of it. 
 
 Hovr to Make Drop Cakes. 
 Let a large teaspoon of saleratus be dissolved in a cup of 
 cream, and this mixed with a quart of milk. Into this stir flour 
 gently, till of the consistence of batter. Then dip your spoon in 
 milk, and with it place your batter at short distances, in a but- 
 tered pan. Very delicate, made entirely of cream, either with 
 or without eggs. 
 
 How to Make Sponge Cakes. 
 
 Take nine eggs, and beat them, yolks and whites separately, 
 an hour or so. With the eggs then beat one pound of fine loaf- 
 sugar, till the whole is of a foam. Afterward stir in gently 
 twelve ounces of flour, also grating in a nutmeg and a little cin- 
 namon or mace. The mixture is then to be put in buttered tins, 
 filled only half full, and baked half an hour ; or, a large loaf 
 should be baked an hour. The oven should be heated to bake 
 quick, but not to scorch. 
 
 How to Make Seed Cakes. 
 Take one pound of flour ; twelve ounces of lump sugar, 
 pounded fine ; seven eggs well beaten with the sugar ; one 
 
 The best throw upon the dice is to throw them away. 
 
kind of goud angel waiting upon Diligence, always cariy- 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. fiei 
 
 ounce of caraway seeds dried and pounded ; and two large ta- 
 ble-spoons of sour cream with a teaspoonful of pearlash. Bake 
 an hour, if in one large cake ; but if in tins or small ones, fifteen 
 minutes. 
 
 Directions for Tea Cakes. 
 Kub a quarter of a pound of butter into a pound of flour ; 
 add a quarter of a pound of fine loaf-sugar, a few caraway 
 seeds, and ,two eggs. With a little warm milk let the whole be 
 made into a paste, which, being covered with a cloth, is to stand 
 before the fire nearly an hour. Then roll out the paste, cut it 
 into round cakes with the top of a glass, and bake them upon 
 floured tins. . 
 
 BuckTrheat Cakes. 
 To one quart of buckwheat flour add a teaspoonful of salt, 
 and mix it with a large spoonful of yeast, and water sufficient to 
 make a thick batter. Some put in a teacupful of fine Indian 
 meal. Put it away for rising in a warm place a few hours. If 
 mixfed in the evening, it ma!y remain in a cold place till morn- 
 ing. When it becomes sufficiently light for baking, place it on 
 a griddle well buttered, and of a heat to cook them quick. 
 
 How to Make Country Cream Cakes. 
 
 To a quart of flour add a teaspoon of fine salt and a piece of 
 butter of the size of an egg ; then take half a pint of thick 
 (jream, the better if a little sour, half a teaspoonful of pearlash, 
 dissolved in water poured into the cream, and milk sufficient to 
 wet the flour. If cream is abundant, it may be used without 
 milk or pearlash. In this case, the cream may be sweet. When 
 well kneaded, it is fit for baking. 
 
 Directions for Breakfest Indian Cakes. 
 
 Take one quart of buttermilk or sour milk ; three eggs ; but- 
 ter in size equal tq half a ben's egg ; a. little salt ; one teaspoon- 
 ful of saleratus ; stirring in fine Indian flour till of a proper con- 
 sistence ; and then putting it into pans of an inch in depth, for 
 a quick bake. 
 
 How to Make Nice Country MufEns for Tea. 
 
 One quart of milk; three eggs; half a teacupful of yeast; 
 two large spoonfuls of sugar ; butter equal in size to half a hen's 
 egg ; half a teaspoonful of saleratus, and a little salt ; the whole 
 well' mixed and fermented, and then in rings quickly baked. 
 How to Preserve Green Currants ai^a Gooseberries. 
 
 In the Massachusetts Ploughman a writer says— For the last 
 ten or twelve years I have been in the habit of preserving green 
 
 He who meditutes to cheat another person, cheats himself most. 
 36 " ~ 
 
understands more in matters reia^tiag to us than oar 
 
 562 MISCELLAMES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
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 currants in considerable quantities for domestic use, and find 
 them not only a luxury, but a great convenience. My raiode of 
 preserving them is simply this : I gather the currants or goose- 
 berries while green, put them into dry glass bottles, cork and 
 seal them tight ; then place them in the cellar in such a position 
 as is most convenient. In this manner they may be preserved 
 for years. I have green currant pies on my, table at all seasons 
 of the year, v? hen (^ther green fruit cannot readily be obtained. 
 We think it an object to recommend our readers to try the ex- 
 periment. It is easily done. 
 
 How to Preserve Fumplehis. 
 Take ten pounds of pumpkins, ten pounds of sugar, ten limes, 
 three oranges ; put water in your ketUe, then a laying of pump- 
 kin, and a laying of sugar ; put over a slow fire, and when done 
 add essence of cloves and cinnamon. 
 
 How to Preserve Apples. 
 Take seven pounds of apples, three and a half pounds of sugar, 
 take off the skins and boil them ; put the sugar to the applqs 
 dry, and let it stand until it is dissolved ; pour on water, let it 
 stand until it is cold, then pour it on the same way several times 
 to harden the apples, then put it over the fire, and add two 
 oranges and some cinnamon. 
 
 Ho'w to Preserve Grapes. 
 Take a cask or barrel that is well bound and tight. Remove 
 one of the heads, and place at the bottom of it a good layer of 
 fine sawdust or bran, well dried. On this place a layer of 
 grapes, then each alternately until the cask is full, taking care 
 that there is sufficient bran between each layer of grapes to pre- 
 vent them from touching each other. Put on the head, which 
 is to be cemented, and the grapes will keep well for a year. 
 When used, in order to restore their freshness, cut the stalks of 
 each bunch, and place it in wine, as flowers are placed in water. 
 
 How to Preserve Peaches, 
 Clean, your peaches, by pouring hot water upon them, and 
 afterward wiping them with a coarse cloth; put them into 
 glass or earthen jars, cork them up, and fasten the corks with 
 wire or strong twine ; then place the jars in a kettle of hot wa- 
 ter until the atmospheric air is expelled from the jars ; after 
 which seal them up tight with wax. Peaches' prepared in this 
 way retain their original flavor, and are equally as delicious, 
 when cooked in the ordinary manner, six months or a year after 
 being put up, as if just taken from the trees. 
 
 Too much prosperity naually makes men appear like fools. 
 
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 jeienee JotpeB to be so much negfated. We spend a great 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 fi63 
 
 I 
 
 How to Make Apple Jelly. 
 
 tKr^wlr^ ■'^r"^'"^ '^ ^^^^ ^"'1^^' °f ^^''« P'PPi" apples, and 
 S iT '"'?, ""''^/^'er to prevent their becoming dark-col- 
 ored. When all are done, put them into boiling water, and let 
 them remain m it until they are entirely stewed Then pass the 
 water and the apples through a sieve or flannel; then proceed 
 in making the jelly in the same manner as with currants! The 
 juice of the lemon must be put into the syrup. The peelings 
 of the lemon must be copked separately, with loaf-sugar, and 
 putmto the jelly when finished. '^ ■' ^ ' 
 
 Sow to Make Kaspbency Jam. 
 
 Take one poTxnd of loaf-sugar to every pound of fruit ;i)ruise 
 them together in your preserving-pan with a silver spoon, and 
 let them simmer gently for an hour. When cold, put them in' 
 glass jars, and lay over them a bit of paper saturated with 
 brandy ; then tie them up so as carefully to exclude the air. 
 DirteotionB for Making Quince Marmalade. 
 
 Take quinces that are quite ripe, pare and «ut them in quar- 
 ters, take 'out the cores, put them in a stew-pan with nearly 
 enough spring water to cover them, keep thew tilosely covered, 
 and let thera stew gently till they are quite soft and red, then 
 mash and rub them through a hair sieve. Put them in a pan 
 over a gentle fire, with as much thick clarified sugar as the 
 weight of the quinces; boil them an hour, and stjr the whole 
 time with a wooden spoon to prevent its sticking. Afterward 
 put it into pots or jars, and when cold put on covers as secure- 
 ly and light as convenient. 
 
 An Excellent Method of Preserving Pumpkins. 
 
 To be preserved, pumpkins must be stewed the same as 
 if they were to be used immediately for pies ; then spread thin- 
 ly on plates, and placed under the stove or in the sun till dry 
 enough for preservation through the year. Thus prepared, they 
 will make excellent pies, and tlie labor is quite small, compared 
 witii drying them without being stewed. 
 
 How to Im|>roTe Molasses. 
 By boiling molasses to be used in coolsing, it can be greatly 
 improved. When boiling, skina it. By this means its unpleasant 
 and raw taste is removed, and 'it is nearly as good as sugar. It 
 is best to boil erne or two gallons at a time, where much is 
 wanted for cooking. 
 
 Ho'V7 to Make Prime Teast. 
 Boil twelve clean- washed, middle-sized potatoes ; and at the 
 
 No sooner is a law nmde, tban an evasion of it is found out. 
 
manliness of temper. Make them consider every vice shameful 
 
 664 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 I 
 
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 same time boil, in anotlier vessel, a handful of hops in a quart 
 of water ; peel and mash the potatoes fine ; pour part of the hop 
 water, while hot, upon the potatoes, and mix them welt; then 
 add theremainder of the hop water and a spoonful of sugar; 
 beat all well ; add a small portion of leaven to bring on fennen- 
 tation, and set it in a cool place. One cupful of the above 
 potato yeast will answer for two quarts of flour. 
 
 Another Recipe for Making ^east. 
 
 Take a pint of nearly scalding water, throw in a little salt, 
 enough to make it pretty salt, then stir into it as much good 
 flour as will make a thin batter; set it near, the fire, and draw 
 out round it warm ashes ; supply it with an equal heat of a cer- 
 tain degree, and exclude from it all cold air ; let it set till it sours 
 and begins to rise. Wlien it Will swell up and foam over the 
 vessel, if nearly full before, it is then ready for being put into 
 the dough, of which bread is to be made, and must be used im- 
 mediately. It may be laid in the morning, and will then be 
 ready for use before or by twelve. It may be raised by set- 
 ting it in the heat of a very warm sun, carefully excluding the 
 cold air. 
 
 To Make Corn-Meal Teast. 
 
 A little more heat is required, both for the water when the 
 meat is stirred in, and to be continued till it rises. When it 
 rises, put it in the dough and make the cake ; then put it in the 
 oven, and let it rise there with a slow heat, and apply the fire 
 strong enough to cook it. This mode of making yeast is more 
 economical thaii by making it with hops, as you never make 
 more at the time than is presently used, as it also makes better 
 bread than hop yeast, and rises tolerably well ; and, in fact, it is 
 commonly used by housewives where hops are not raised, and 
 is preferred by them. 
 
 How to Make Potato Yeast. 
 Boil in their skins three large potatoes ; drain off the water, 
 and let them remain in the pot until they have done steaming. 
 Then peel and beat them light, adding a table-spoonful of clean 
 brown sugar, as. much wheat flour, a teaspoonful of salt, and a 
 teacupful of goodjising; beat this mixture till quite smooth, 
 and then pour in three pints of boiling water ; set it in a warm 
 place, and in a short time it will be fit for use, having risen to a 
 fine white froth. 
 
 Direction for the Preservation of Teast. 
 Take a close canvas bag, fill it with yeast, then press out the 
 water, and make it into cakes. When well dried, it can be put 
 
 He who gives fair words, feeds you -with an empty spoon. 
 
you cannot expect t o live and eat the fruit?" He replied, "Some one 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 565 
 
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 away till required for use. The mode of using it is to'dihiirii 
 g may bTldde'd. ^"^' '''™' '" ^^'"^ ' '"^^ '' '^"S^"- ^"^ flour 
 Or it may be beaten to a froth, and then, with a brush, be 
 spread on writing paper ; continue coating after coating, every 
 time It dries, until a cake is formed, which may be divided into 
 small pieces, and used as the other. 
 
 How to Make Sour-Crout. 
 
 Take whifce cabtages ; slice them horizontally, and place them 
 m a barrel. with common salt, in alternate layers; cover them 
 over with salt, and press them down tight ; keep them in a cool 
 place for some weeks. Spice may be added to taste. This is a 
 favorite preparation of cabbage with the Dutch. 
 
 Recipe for Preparing Intestines for Sausages. 
 
 Take the intestines, cut oflF the extraneous fat and peritoneal 
 membrane; turn them inside out, and wash them clean for 
 twenty-four hours in a pail of water, to which a little chloride of 
 lime or potash has been added; then tear off a part of the mu- 
 cous membrane, to thin them, and wash them well in two or 
 three pails of clean water. 
 
 Directions for Making Wine Custard. 
 Cut a bit of rennet, about four inches square, into strips, 
 which put into a bottle filled with wine. It will be fit for use in 
 two or three weeks! To make your custard, first warm and 
 sweeten the milk ; then stir into it a teaspoonful or table-spoon- 
 ful of the rennet wine, according to its strength, and pour imme- 
 diately into a pudding-dish or cups, as you prefer; put it in a 
 cool place for an hour, and grate on nutmeg. The whey, of 
 which you can make enough, by addition of extra wine, when 
 you prepare it, is a very nourishing diink for invalids. 
 How to Make Egg Pone. 
 Three eggs, a quart of Indian meal, a large table-spoonful of 
 butter, a small teaspoonful of salt, and a half pint or more of 
 milk. Beat the eggs light and mix them with milk ; then stir in 
 gradually the Indian meal; adding salt and butter. It must not 
 be batter, but soft dough, just thick enough to be stirred well 
 with a spoon. If too thin, add more Indian meal ; if too stiff, 
 thin it with more milk. Beat or stir it long and hard. Butter 
 a tin or iron pan ; put the mixture into it, and set the pan imme- 
 diately into an oven, which must be moderately hot at the first, 
 and the heat increased afterward. A Dutch-oven is the best 
 for the purpose. It should bake an hour and a half or two 
 hours, in proportion to its thickness. Send it to the table hot, 
 and cut into slices. 
 
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 A man should be esteemed valuable as he makes himself useful. 
 
human nature as to seek tiappiaess by changing anything 
 
 566 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
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 Ho'w to Make Egg Cream. 
 
 Take the yolk of an egg, with a dessert spoonful of cream or 
 new milk, and, if convenient, add two drops of oil of cinnamon. 
 This is a mixture sui.table for tea or coffee ; for cream being 
 chiefly the oil of the milk, and the yolk the most nutritive part 
 of the egg, they are both lubricating and nourishing. The oil 
 of cinnamon is cordial and tonic. 
 
 Sulphuric Acid a Substitute for Kennet. 
 The Transactions of the Highland Agricultural Society of 
 Scotland contains some experiments made with sulphuric acid 
 in the place of rennet for curdling milk in cheese-making. In 
 one case the acid gave from one, pint of milk 144 grains of curd, 
 while the rennet gave 112. Another pint gave with the acid 
 143 grains, while the rennet gave 104. Another pint, being 
 the strippings of the cow, gave 171, while the rennet gave only 
 112 from the same quantity. ■^ 
 
 Hovr to Make Omelettes. 
 
 This favorite dish is made of eggs and anything else that the 
 fancy may direct to flavor and enrich it. For a common om- 
 elette, take six eggs, and beat them well, with a fork in a basin ; 
 add a little salt. Next take a little fine-chopped parsley — sonae 
 chop a little onion fine also — and mix this with the egg, adding 
 also two ounces of butter. Place a frying-pan over the fire 
 with a little butter, and as soon as it is melted, pour in the om- 
 elette, stirring it all the time, till it assume the appearance of 
 firm cake. When the under side is a little browned, turn it 
 over and brown the other. It is then to be served on a dish. 
 Instead of the parsley or the oniony it may be seasoned with 
 fine-chopped tongue, or ham, or oysters, or grated cheese, or, 
 indeed, anything else, 
 
 A New Method of Making Jelly. 
 A correspondent of a New Jersey paper says : — Press the 
 juice from the fruit ; add the proper proportion of sugar ; and 
 stir the juice and sugar until the sugar is completely melted. 
 Then put it into jars, and in twenty-four hours it will become 
 of proper consistence. By this means the trouble of boiling is 
 avoided ; atid the jelly retains more completely the flavor of the 
 fruit. Gare should be taken to stir the mixture till it is com- 
 pletely (nelted, and fine sugar should be used. Any one can 
 make trial. 
 
 How to Mak6 Raspberry Syrup. 
 iPo every qtiart of fruit add a pound of sugar, and let it stand 
 
 He who hath, good health is a rich man, and doth not know it. 
 
bani^es reason ; other Tices but impair the soul — ^this demol- 
 
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 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 567 
 
 over night. In the morning boil and skim it for half an hour ; 
 then strain it through a flannel bag and pour into bottles, which 
 must.be carefully corked and sealed. To each bottle add, if 
 you please, a trifle of brandy, if the weather is so warm as to 
 endanger its keeping. 
 
 Wew England Apple Sauce or Butter. 
 Let two barrels of new cider, before fermentation has begun, 
 be boiled down to half a barrel. To this quantity of cider prob- 
 ably about three bushels of good apples should be added, as 
 follows. Sweet apples aire preferable. They are to be pared 
 arid cored, and then put into the cider thus reduced, and still 
 kept boiling briskly. To prevent burning, and to cause a due 
 mixture, the whole mass is to be stirred constantly till the apples 
 are completely dissolved and mixed with the cider, till of the 
 consistence of soft butter or hasty pudding. A small quantity 
 of pulverized allspice added during the boiling is an improve- 
 ment. It should.be done in a brass kettle. When done, put it 
 into a wooden cask, like a butter firkin, and it will keep for years. 
 It is a capital article for the table, and' no one once accustomed 
 to it would willingly be deprived of it. When apples are plenty 
 the cost is small. ' 
 
 Method of Rendering Glass less Brittle. 
 
 Let the glass vessel be put into a vessel of cold water, and let 
 this water'he heated boiling hot, and then allowed to cool slow- 
 ly of itself, without taking out the glass. Glasses treated in 
 this way may, while cold, be suddenly filled with boiling hot 
 water, withbut any risk of their cracking. If the glasses are to 
 be exposed to a higher temperature than that of boiling water, 
 boil them in oil. 
 
 Green Corn Pudding. 
 
 The Louisville Journal says that the following recipe will pro- 
 duce one of the rarest delicacies ever brought upon the table. 
 Take of green corn twelve ears, and grate it. To this, add a 
 quart of sweet milk, a quarter of a pound of sweet butter, four 
 eggs, well beaten, pepper and salt, as much as sufficient ; stir 
 all well together, and hake four hours in ?i butteied dish. Some 
 add to the other ingredients ^ quarter of a pound of sugar, and 
 eat the pudding with sauce. It is good cold or warm. 
 
 How to Make Rice Pudding. 
 
 Beat half a pound of rice to powder, or ground rice; set it, 
 
 with three pints of milk, upon the fire ; let it boil well, and when 
 
 cold, put to it eight eggs well beaten, half a pound of butter, 
 
 'half a pound of sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and mace; halt an 
 
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 A bad setttement of a ooatroirersy is better than a lawsuit. 
 
possessed of the happiness you have, and the more strongly 
 
 568 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
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 hour will bake it ; add raisins, candied lemons, citron, or other 
 sweetmeats, and lay a puff paste all over the sides and rim of 
 the dish. 
 
 A Cheap Rice Pudding. 
 
 Take a quarter of a pound of rice, and half a pound of raisins, 
 and tie them in a cloth ; but give the rice sufficient room to 
 swell. Boil it two hours, and when it is boiled enough turn it 
 into your dish, and pour melted butter and sugar over it, with 
 a little nutmeg. Or it may be made thus : Tie a quarter of a 
 pound of rice in a cloth, but, give it room for swelling. Boil it 
 an hour, then take it up, untie it, and with a spoon stir in a 
 quarter of a pound erf butter. Grate some nutmeg, and sweeten 
 ii to your taste ; then tie it up close, and boil it another hour. 
 Then take it up, turn it into your dish, and pom* over it melted 
 batter. 
 
 Apple Rice Pudding, very Cheap and Good. 
 
 One pint of rice, twelve good-sized sour apples, pared, cored, 
 and sliced ; mix both together, and put them into a bag to be 
 boiled half an hour. The bag must be large enough to allow 
 the rice to swell; and yet no larger than the race when swelled 
 will fill. Eat with any sauce that suits the taste ; butter and 
 sugar are excellent. 
 
 Direction for a Peach Pudding. 
 
 Take two quarts of coarse corn meal, a pint of dried peaches, 
 chopped into pieces not bigger than large beans, a pound of 
 chopped suet, eight or ten eggs beaten up in milk, and mix all 
 into a stiff batter, and put into a bag and boil three hours. Eat 
 the same with any kind of sauce you like, and you will eat as 
 good a pudding as ever was made at such a trifling cost. If 
 any should be left, warm it the next day, and it will be good 
 again. 
 
 A Baked Potato Pudding.' 
 
 Mix twelve ounces of potatoes, boiled, skinned, and mashed, 
 one ounce of suet, quarter of a pint of milk, and one ounce of 
 cheese grated fine ; add as much water as is necessary to pro- 
 duce a due consistence, and bake it in an earthen pan. 
 
 To Make Hasty Pudding. ' 
 
 Boil a quart, three pints. Or two quarts of water, according to 
 the size of your family. Stir into a bowl of cold water five or 
 six table-spoonfuls of fine Indian meal, and pour it into the ket- 
 tle of water as soon as it begins to boil. Stir the mixture well, 
 add salt to your taste, and let it boil down to a thick gruel. 
 Then sprinkle in, handful by handful, finely-sifted Indian meal. 
 
 He that will have no trouble in the world must not be born in it. 
 
his band to crown her ; whereas, Idleness, for her reward, is ever 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. S69 
 
 stirring briskly all the while with a wooden spatula or slice, un- 
 til it is sufficiently stiff to need a strong hand. It usually re- 
 quires about half an hour to be thoroughly cooked. It may be 
 eaten with milk, butter, sugar, or molasses. 
 
 Fried Hasty Pudding for Breakfast. 
 Cut the pudding when cold into slices half an inch thick, and 
 fry them brown on both sides, in a little butter or lard, and it 
 serves as an excellent substitute for potatoes or buckwheat cakes. 
 If made of the meal of white or yellow flint corn a small quan- 
 tity of wheaten or rye flour should be added to the mush while 
 cooking, to prevent its crumbling when fried. 
 
 A Boiled Indian Pudding. 
 Boil a quart of milk, and stir in Indian meal till it is nearly as 
 thick as you can stir it with a spoon ; then add a teaspoon- 
 ful of salt, a cupful of molasses, a teaspoonful of girvger 
 or ground cinnamon, and cold milk enough to make a thin 
 batter. Boil in a thick bag four hours. Care should be 
 taken. that the water should not stop boiling while the pudding 
 is in. A dish made in this way, with the addition of a quart of 
 chopped sweet apples, and baked from four to six hours, will be 
 found delicious when served up hot and eaten with sauce made 
 of drawn butter, nutmeg, and wine. 
 
 The Best Way to Boil Green Com. 
 The proper state in which to eat green corn is at the time 
 that the millc flows upon pressing the kernels with the thumb 
 nail. It is best when boiled in the ear, with the husks on, the 
 latter of which should be stripped off when brought to the table. 
 The ears should be covered with butter, with a httle salt added, 
 and the grains eaten off the cob. Over-refined people imagine 
 this vUlo-ar, and shave them off close to the cob, but in so doing 
 they lose much of the sweetness. 
 
 A Country Apple Pudding. 
 To one pint of scalding milk add half a pint of Indian meal, a 
 teaspoonful of salt and six sweet apples, cut into small pieces, 
 and bake not less than three hours ; the apples will afford an 
 excellent rich jelly. This is verily one of the most simple, cheap, 
 and yet luxuriant, puddings that a farmer can have ; or, indeed, 
 that any one can have. 
 
 Sponge Pudding. 
 
 These puddings must be made with the greatest exactitude. 
 
 Cream a quarter of a pound of butter, and add four eggs, the 
 
 whites and yolks, two ounces of white pounded sugar, and two 
 
 table -spoonfuls of flour; beat the whole up slowly, fill six 
 
 Did universal charity prevail, this earth would be a heaven and bell a fable 
 
without any anxious dependence upon the future, not to amuse 
 
 570 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
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 I 
 
 small cups, and bake tfaem for exactly twenty minutes. Serve 
 with wine sauce. . 
 
 Biscuit Puddings. 
 Mix together a quarter of a pound of bread-crumbs, with the 
 same quantity of brown sugal* and butter ; five eggs, leaving out 
 two whites, and then a quarter of a pint of milk ; bake twenty 
 minutes in cups as before. 
 
 Puff Puddings. 
 Pour scajding milk upon white bread, sliced ; let it stand till 
 well soaked ; then beat it well with four eggs, a little sugar and 
 grated nutmeg. Bake in small teacups, which must be only half 
 filled. The absence of butter will render these puddings very 
 desirable to delicate stomachs. 
 
 Plain Boiled Sice Pudding. 
 
 Wash and pick some rice ; throw among it some pimento, 
 finely pounded, but not much ; tie the rice in a cloth, and leave 
 plenty of room for it to swell. Boil it in a quantity of water for 
 an hour or two. When done, eat it with butter and sugar, or 
 milk. Put lemon peel if you please. , It is very good .without 
 spice, and eaten with salt and butter. 
 
 Bread and Butter Pudding. 
 Slice bread, spread with butter, and lay it on a dish, with cur- 
 rants or chopped raisins between each layer; pour over an un- 
 boiled custard, and spice it to suit taste, at least two hours before 
 it is to be baked. 
 
 How to Make Com Pudding. 
 
 Grate two dozen ears of green corn, — the sweet corn is best, 
 although field corn will answer; then carefully scrape the cobs, 
 so as not to get the hulls off; put in about a quart of cold milk, 
 three eggs, two table-spoonfuls of sugar, and a teaspoonful of 
 salt. If desired sweetei-, add more sugar; if not so thick, 
 more milk ;' the consistency depending much on the state of 
 the corn. Then bake. 
 
 < Beet and Carrot Pies. 
 
 Pies may be made from beets in the following manner : Grat- 
 ing the roots fine, and then using them as pumpkins, adding 
 rather more salt than spice. Pies made in the same way, of 
 carrots, cannot be easily distinguished from good squash pies. 
 Pumpkin pies made by grating instead of stewing, are quickly 
 made — baking them a little longer — and have more flavor than 
 Usual. 
 
 In reality, we eojoj but a very small portion of human life. 
 
the place where he ia charged with having committed an offeuce. 
 
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 MISCELLANIEEf IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 571 
 
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 SngeiT-Beet Vinegar. 
 The juice of one bushel of sugar-beets, which any farmer can 
 taise, will make from five to six gallons of vinegar, equal to the 
 best made from cider or wine. Grale the beets, having first 
 washed them, and express the juice in a cheese-press, or in many 
 other tvays which a little ingenuity can suggest, and put the 
 liquor into an empty barrel ; cover the bung with gauze, and set 
 it in the sun, and in twelve or fifteen days it will be fit for use. 
 Aitdficial Oysters. 
 
 Take young green corn, grate it in a dish ; to one pint of this 
 add one egg, well beaten ; a sraajl teacup of flour ; half a oup 
 of butter ; some salt and pepper, and mix them well together. 
 A table-spoonful of the batteF will make the size of an oyster. 
 Fry them a hght brown, and, when done, butter them. Cream, 
 if it can be spared, is belter than butter. This dish has some- 
 times been mistaken for oy.sters. 
 
 How to Make Elder 'Wine. 
 
 Take twelve gallons and a half of the juice of the ripe elder- 
 berry, and forty-three pounds of sugar; with thirty-seven and a 
 half Of water, in which had been previously boiled six ounces of 
 ginger and nine ounces of pimento, bruised and strained off; 
 and, when it is cooled to blood heat, or a little below, put the 
 whole together, adding a pint of thin brewers' yeast ; then let it 
 ferment two weeks in a barrel ; then bung it up close for six 
 months ; after whicli it may be bottled. 
 
 Hovr to Make Mead. 
 
 To one gallon of water add four pounds of pure honey, and 
 aromatic herbs, or not, according to taste. Boil the whole in a 
 copper vessel three-quarters of an hour, and skim well. Then 
 allow the mead to stand in th« copper until nearly cold, when it 
 should be bottled up, arid kept till old enough to drink. 
 How to Make Cheap Vinegar. 
 
 To eight gallons of clear rain water, add three qtlarts of mo- 
 lasses ; put them into a good cask ; shake well a few times ; then 
 add two or three spoonfuls of good yeast cakes. If in summer, 
 place the cask in the sun ; if in winter, near the chimney, where 
 it may be warm. In ten or fifteen days, add to the liquor a 
 sheet of brown paper, torn in strips, dipped m molasses, and 
 good vinegar will be produced. The paper Will, m the way, 
 form what is called the "mother," or "life of vmegar. 
 Cider Vinegar, how Made. 
 
 The poorest cider will answer for vinegar, in the making of 
 which proceed thus. First draw oflF the cider into a cask that 
 
 13 
 
 
 If you have performed an act of great and disinterested virtue, conceal it. 
 
equally open view of the show. These shows were genferally 
 
 572 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
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 r 
 
 has had vinegar in it before, if you have such a one ; then put 
 into it son!)e of the apples that have been pressed, or pumice ; 
 if placed in the sun, in two weeks it msy be drawn away and 
 put into another cask, fit for use. 
 
 £[0117 to Make a Cheap Family Wine. 
 
 Black currants, red currants, white currants, ripe cherries, 
 raspberries, and gooseberries, each twenty-eight pounds ; watdr, 
 nine gallons. Steep for three or four days, frequently stirring 
 up the mash, then strain with expression, and add to each gallon 
 of the liquor good moist sugar, three pounds ; pream of tartar, 
 three drachms. Ferment, cork, and lastly, add good spirit, at 
 the rate of two to five per cent. 
 
 How to Improve Watery Potatoes. 
 
 Every day complaints are made about watery potatoes. The 
 remedy is easily accomplished. When boiling, put into the pot 
 a piece of lime as large as a hen's egg, and how watery soever 
 the potatoes may have been, when the water is poured off the 
 potatoes will be perfectly dry and mealy. 
 
 To Procure Grreeu Peas in Winter. 
 
 Take the peas when they are plenty, and wash and scald in 
 hot vf-ater, then drain, put them into bottles, and pOur' strong 
 brine upon them until they are perfectly covered ; over this 
 pour a tliin layer of good salad oil, and cork tight, then dip the 
 corks into melted pitch. The bottles should be quite full, and 
 kept upright: 
 
 How to Make Succotaab, 
 
 To about a pound of salt pork add three quarts of cold water, 
 and set it to boil. Now cut off three quarts of green corn from 
 the cob ; set the corn aside, and put the cobs to bdil with the 
 pork, as they will, add much to the richness of the mixture. 
 When the pork has boiled, .say half an hour, remove the cobs 
 and put in one quart of freshly-gathered, green, shelled beans; 
 boil again for fifteen minutes ; then add the three quarts of corn, 
 and let it boil another fifteen minutes. Now turn the whole 
 into a dish, add five or six spoonfuls of butter, season it with 
 pepper to your taste, and with salt also, if the salt of the pork 
 has not proved suflicient. If the liquor has boiled away, it will 
 be -necessary to add a little more to it before taking it away from 
 the fire, as this is an essential part of the affair. 
 
 Directions for Popping Com. 
 Fill an iron pot with sand, and setitonthe fire till the sand is 
 very hot. Two or three pounds of the grain are then thrown 
 in, and well mixed with the sand by stirring. Each grain bursts 
 
 Good men make better bargains than iff generally supposed. 
 
the alf, the earth, and the water, and seei) only by 
 
 S 
 
 CO 
 
 i 
 
 ■^ 
 
 MISCELLAMES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 573 
 
 and throws out a white substance of twice, perhaps four times 
 its bigness. The sand is separated by a wire sieve, and returned 
 into the pot to be again heated, and repeat the operation with 
 fresh grain. Corn thus prepared is sometimes pounded in a 
 mortar, and may be kept a long time. It is said an Indian will 
 go long journeys with a small bag of it, taking only six or eight 
 ounces df it a day mixed in water. 
 
 Another Method of Popping Corn. 
 Take a half pint or more of what is called popped corn, and 
 put it into a frying-pan, slightly buttered, or rubbed with lard. 
 Hold the pan over the fire .so as constantly to stir or shake the 
 corn witljin, and in a few minutes each kernel will pop, or turn 
 inside out, and is ready for immediate use. May be eaten with 
 or without a little sugar or salt, added while hot in the pan. 
 
 Ho-w to Cure Pork. 
 
 As soon as the pork becomes cool, let it be cut and sorted. 
 The hams, shoulders, and spareribs may be reserved ; but all 
 the rest, save fragments for sausages, are to be put iiito barrels 
 made perfectly sweet and clean. What is to be put down in 
 the barrels should be cut into pieces of a size suitable for cook- 
 ing. The bottom of the barrel should be well covered with 
 coarse salt ; then a layer of pork packed in close, and well 
 covered with salt ; then another layer of pork, and so on till the 
 barrel is filled. Salt cannot be used too freely. After six or 
 eight days, a pickle of salt and cold water is to be made as 
 strong as possible, completely covering the meat thus previously 
 salted. This will keep for yours. 
 
 How to Fry Salted Pork. 
 
 Take one fresh egg, beat it, add half a gill of sweet milk, and 
 a sufficient quantity of flour to make good batter ; freshen and 
 fry the pork as usual ; then dip slices in the batter, which will 
 of course adhere ; replace them in the fat, and after a little more 
 frying, a light and delicate cake will enclose the meat, and thus 
 constitute a dish for a middling-sized family, which will tempt 
 the palate of the most fastidious. 
 
 To Cure Hams as practiced in Virginia. 
 
 For one hundred pounds of meat take six pounds of fine salt, 
 three pounds of brown sugar, or three pints of- molasses, and 
 one pound of saltpetre powdered ; mix all these- together ; rub 
 each ham over with this mixture, and pack theta down in a cask 
 or tub, and let them remain so five or six days ; then turn them 
 and sprinkle some salt on them slightly, and so let them remain 
 five or six days longer ; then add brine or pickle strong enough 
 
 A weak defence strengthens your opponent more than no.defence. 
 
and arciiitebts, to denote such'tiiec^s of theil: differetit atts 
 
 674 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 ,-s 
 
 
 to bear an egg, and let them remain covered with it for a month, 
 when they will ,be fit for the smoke-house. 
 
 The Author's Method oi Curing Hamsi 
 Place your hams and shoulders in a cask or tub, one above 
 the other, the skin side up, as close as convenient. For one 
 hundred pounds of meat take one pound of saltpetre, and half 
 a teacupful of saleratUs, With salt , sufficient to make a strong 
 brine that will at least bear up an egg. Boil and skim this 
 thoroughly, adding two quarts of molasses. When cool pour it 
 into the cask, completely covering the meat, which mAy remain 
 a month, when it will be fit for being smoked. 
 
 When smoked they may be packed in oats, so as not to touch 
 each other; and, it is, believed, simple as the process isj they 
 will be preserved in the best condition. Such has been the ex- 
 perience of some of the most judicious farmers. 
 A Ne'w Way to Cure Bacon. 
 
 A correspondent of the Nashville Whig has the: following re- 
 cipe ; 
 
 • As soon as the rheat js salted to your taste, which will; gen- 
 erally be in about five weeks, take it out, and, if any of it has 
 been covered with brine, let it dram a little. Then take good 
 black pepper finely ground, and dust on the flesh side, and on 
 the hock end, aS much as will stick ; then hang it up jn a good) 
 clean, dry, airy place ; if all this is done as it should be, you 
 will have no farther trouble with it, for by fly- time in the 
 spring, your bacon is so well cured or dried on the outside, 
 that flies or bugs will not disturb it. 
 
 To Prevent Skippers in Bacon. 
 
 If a small piece of sulphur is occasionally thrown upon the 
 fire for smoking, it will efiectually prevent skippers and bugs 
 from making inroads upon the meat ; nor will it produce any 
 effect on its flavor, save the mere surface or skin. 
 
 How to Preserve Meat, 
 
 Put fresh meat in a close vessel, containing vinegar, which 
 will preserve it a considerable time. Tainted meat may be ren- 
 dered, good by pickling it in pearlash water for some time. 
 Before it is cooked, however, it should be dipped in vinegar a 
 short time, and then salted in brine. 
 
 How to Restore Tainted Meat. 
 
 If salted, wash it, and throw away the old brine ; then re- 
 place it with the following composition, and let it lie in it for a 
 few day^. Then take twelve parts of fresh-burnt charcoal, pul- 
 verized ; eleven parts of common salt ; and four parts of salt- 
 
 Some men possess great means, but waste or neglect to use them. 
 
I 
 
 - ' -~—~- - , _^ — j» ' '— ■ 
 
 in Europe and America consists of three liundred and siity- 
 
 MISCEL'LANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 575 
 
 petre. Mix them together, and use the compound, the SE^me 
 as common salt; and before cooking the meat, remove the 
 black, color by washing in clean water. 
 
 Ho-w to Smoke Hams. 
 A smoke-house should be well ventilated, and the hams be 
 hung at least eight or ten feet above the fire, and the smoke 
 given out in moderate quantities, and come from corn-cobs or 
 hickory wood.. It is important that the hams be kept cool and 
 dry. through the whole operation. Proper ventilation of the 
 jSjpoke-house' secures this. If they become moist by improper 
 ventilation, or are placed so near the fire as to be heated, their 
 flavor is greatly injured. 
 
 To Drive away Cookroachea. 
 
 A respectable professional gentleman says, he has discovered 
 spirits of turpentine is kh effectual remedy against the depreda- 
 tions of cockroaches. Thus, put a little of it upon the shelves 
 and, sides, of your book-cases, bureaux, or other furniture, in 
 Whicji they ^ take shelter; which maybe done with a feather, 
 and these 'troublesome insects will soon quit, not only the fur- 
 niture, but the room. The remedy is simple, and easily ob- 
 tained by every person who wishes it. It is not unpleasant to 
 the smell, soon evaporates, and does no injury to the furniture 
 or clothing. This is a valuable discovery, if it proves in all 
 cases as our informant assures us it did in his house. 
 
 Generally True. 
 We hear Ibud complaints on all hands of the unfaithfulness 
 and idleness of servants ; but we have never yet known a wo- 
 man who treated those under her management like human be- 
 ings, having hearts, and affections, and aspirations, and sensibil- 
 ities, who was ever robbed by her servants, deceived by them, 
 or her household or children neglected. 
 
 Female Modesty. 
 
 Modesty in a young female is the flower of a tender shrub, 
 which is the promise of an excellent fruit. To destroy it, is to 
 destroy the fruitful germ of a thousand virtues, to destroy the 
 bright hope of society, . to commit an outrage against nature. 
 The air of the world is a burning breath that every day blasts 
 this precious flower. 
 
 To Render Boots and Shoes Water-Proof. 
 
 Take one pint of drying oil, two ounces of yellow wax, two 
 ounces of spirits of turpentine, and half an ounce of Burgundy 
 pitch ; melt them over a slow fire, and thoroughly incorporate 
 
 A society composed of none but the wicked could not long exist. 
 
atmospLerical elements wljich proDiote vegetable 
 
 ^ 
 
 676 MISCELLANIES Ij^ DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 them by stirring. Lay ttis mi'xture on the new shoes or boots, 
 either m the sun or at some distanee from the fire, with a sponge 
 or, brush, and repeat the operation as often as they become dry, 
 until they are fully saturated. The shoes and boots, thus pre- 
 pared, ought not to be worn until the leather haa become 
 perfectly dry and elastic. They will then be found impervious 
 td moisture, and their durability will be increased. , ,) 
 
 Blacking for Boots and Shoes. 
 
 Put one gallon of vinegat in^o a stone jug ; add one pound of 
 ivory black, well pulverized,; half a pound of loaf-sugar; half 
 an ounce of oil of vitriol; and one ounce of ^weet oil ; incorpo- 
 rate the whole by stirring. This blacking has. been ascertained,, 
 from experience, to be less injurious to the leather than most 
 blackings in use; and it certainly produces a fine jet polish, 
 which is rarely equaled, and never yet surpassed. 
 
 To Clean Black Silks. 
 To bullock's gall, add boiling water sufficient to make it warm, 
 And with a clean sponge rub the silk well on both side's ; squeeze 
 it well out, and proceed again in like manner. RJnse it in spring 
 water, ind change the water till perfectly clean ; dry in the air, 
 and pin it on a table; but first dip the sponge in glue-water, 
 and rub it on the wrong side ; then dry it before the fire. 
 
 Hovr to take Mildew out of Linen. 
 Rub the mildewed article well with sbap ; then scrape upon 
 it some fine chalk, letting that be rubbed well into the cloth; 
 lay it on the grass ; as it dries, wet it a little, and the mildew 
 will soon disappear. 
 
 How to Clean Wliite Lace VeUa. 
 _Clean them with a solution of white soap, and rinse well ; then 
 pass them through another water, to ^hich two or three drops of 
 liquid blue have been added ; lastly, starch them, and keep clap- 
 ping them with the hands until dry. 
 
 How to Remove Lime Spots. 
 
 Lime spots on woolen clothes may be completely removed 
 by strong vinegar.' The vinegar eflfectually neutralizes the 
 lime, but does not generally affect the color of the cloth. Dark 
 cloth, the color of which has been completclydestroyed in spots 
 six inches square, has tlius had its original color perfectly re- 
 stored. 
 
 To Restore Lineal that has long been Stained. 
 
 Rut the stains on .each side with wet brown soap. Mix some 
 starch, tp a thick paste with cold water, and spread it over the 
 
 c, 
 
 i 
 
 Be very slow to. believe that you are wiser or better than all others. 
 
he is not fond of contradicting and opposing, and is 
 
 JIISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 677 
 
 soaped places. Then expose the linen to the sun and air; and, 
 if the stains have not disappeared in three or four days, rub off 
 the mixture, and repeat the process with fresh soap and starch. 
 Afterward dry it, wet it with cold water, and put it in the 
 wash. 
 
 To Clean Kid Gloves. 
 First see that your hands are clean, then put on your gloves 
 and wash them as though you were washing your hands, in a 
 basin of turpentine, until quite clean — then hang them up in a 
 warm place, or where there is a good current of air, whicli will 
 carry off the smell of the turpentine. This method was brought 
 from Paris, and many thousand pounds have been made by it. 
 
 Another Recipe for Cleaning Kid Gloves. 
 
 Take a piece of flannel, moisten it with a little milk, rub it on 
 a cake of nice hard soap, and then apply it to the soiled part of 
 the glove. As soon as you have removed the dirt, rub the kid 
 with a dry piece of flannel. Care must be taken not to make 
 the glove too wet. 
 
 Recipe for Washing Woolen Goods. 
 
 The art of washing woolen goods so as to prevent them from 
 shrinking, is one of the desiderata in domestic economy worthy 
 of being recorded ; and it is, therefore, with satisfaction we ex- 
 plain this simple process to our readers. All descriptions of 
 woolen goods should be washed in very hot water with soap ; 
 and, as soon as the article is cleansed, immerse it in cold water ; 
 then let it be hung up to be dried. 
 
 To Remove Spots of Ink. 
 
 To take them out of linen, lemon-juice is sometimes used, 
 but the spots do not wholly disappear, and a hole follows. The 
 best and safest method is, to take a candle, melt it, dip the 
 spotted part into the melted tallow, then put it to the wash, 
 and it will become white and no hole succeed. 
 
 How to Remove OU or Speim Tallow from Cloth. 
 
 Hold the cloth or garment as near as possible to the fire 
 without burning, and the sperm or oil will immediately evapo- 
 rate away If a fire is not at hand, light a small roll of paper, 
 and hold it for half a minute or so close to, and directly over, 
 the oil or tallow to be removed, and the substance in like man- 
 ner disappears. 
 
 How to Wash Flannels. 
 
 Make two tubs of strong soap-suds, and wash the pieces 
 while it is hot as the hands can bear it. Rinse in hot, solt 
 
 The moral cement of human society is hnman virtue. 
 37 
 
his lawful profit ; bilt, as far as consistent, render him 
 
 578 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 a 
 
 ^ 
 
 water, wring lightly and shake well, and hang where they will 
 dry quickly. Do one piece at a time ; for if allowed to become 
 cold while wet, and then again hot, the flannel will inevitably 
 shrink. When nearly dry, fold them very smooth, and press 
 with a hot iron. 
 
 Ho^v to Clean Enivea. 
 
 One of the best substances for cleaning knives and forks is 
 charcoal reduced to a fine powder, and applied in the same 
 manner as brickdust is used. This is a recent and valuable dis- 
 covery. 
 
 Wash-Leather TTnder-'Waistcoats. 
 
 A waistcoat of this material, worn over flannel, will be found, 
 especially in the country, very comfortable, and a preservative 
 against the consequences of sudden exposures in our changeable 
 cRmate. In many cases it will supersede the necessity of, and 
 prove a more effective barrier against cold, than a great-coat. 
 This to a farmer, in the winter, not wishing to put on an over- 
 coat every time he is obliged to go into the cold air, is a great 
 convenience. Besides, it is inconvenient to labor in an over-coat, 
 on the farm, if necessary for warmth, whereas the wash-leather 
 waistcoat protects him from cold, and is not an impediment to 
 his movements in labor. 
 
 Hovr to Clean Pictures. 
 
 Make, a lye with clear water and wood ashes. In this dip a 
 sponge, and rub the picture over, and it will cleanse it per- 
 fectly. White wine may be used instead of the lye, with the 
 same results. 
 
 To Give Lustre to Silver. 
 
 Dissolve a quantity of alum in water, so as to make a pretty 
 strong brine, which must be skir(imed very carefully ; add some 
 soap to it, and when you wish to use it, dip a piece of linen rag 
 in it, and rub over the plate. 
 
 How to take Spots from Silks, Cotton, and Linen. 
 
 Take one quart of spring water ; put in it a little fine white 
 powder, about the size of a walnut, and a lemon cut in slices ; 
 mix them well together, and let it stand twenty-four hours in 
 the sun. This liquid takes out all spots, whether pitch, grease, 
 or oil, as well in hats, as cloths and stuffs, silk, cotton, or linen. 
 As soon as the spot ia taken out, wash the place with clean 
 water ; for cloths of deep color, add to a spoonful of the mix- 
 ture a quantity of water, to dilute it. 
 
 To Keep a Stove Bright by Two Applications a Tear. 
 
 Make a weak alum-water, and mix your British lustre with it. 
 
 Good men are justly styled, in Scripture, the salt of the earth. 
 
•a 
 
 .60 
 
 13 
 
 o 
 
 ja 
 ■♦J 
 
 01 
 
 O 
 
 5 
 
 instant we banish peace and happiness from the 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 679 
 
 perhaps two teaspoonfuls to a gill of alum- water ; let the stove 
 be cold, brush it with the mixture, then take a dry brush, and rub 
 the stove till It IS perfectly dry. Should any part, before polish- 
 ing, be so dry as to look gray, moisten it with a wet brush, and 
 proceed as before said. 
 
 Another Method for Removing Grease Spots. 
 
 If you have not French chalk, magnesia will effectually remove 
 grease spots from silk, on rubbing it in well ; and, after stand- 
 ing a while, apply a piece of soft brown paper to the wrong 
 side, on which press a warm iron gently, and what grease is not 
 absorbed by the paper can be removed by washing the spot 
 carefully with cold water. 
 
 To Remove Marks from a Table. 
 
 _ If a whitish mark is left on a table, by carelessly setting on a 
 pitcher of boiling water, or a hot dish, pour some lamp oil on 
 the spot, and rub it hard with a soft cloth. Then pour on a lit- 
 tle spirits of wine or Cologne water, and rub it dry with another 
 cloth. The white mark will thus disappear, and the table look 
 as well as ever. 
 
 Hovir to Clean Brass Ornaments. 
 Brass ornaments, that have not been gilt or lacquered, may 
 be cleaned, and a very brilliant color given to them, by washing 
 them with alum boiled in strong lye, in the proportion of an 
 ounce to a pint, and afterward rubbing them with a strong 
 tripoli. 
 
 How to Mend Crockery-Ware. 
 
 Take care that the fractured edges of the vessel are not snip- 
 ped, nor suffered to contract dirt; for if a dirty dish or cup be 
 broken, it is almost, but not quite, a hopeless case ; wash it 
 gently and thoroughly with soap and water; rinse with soft 
 water, and let it dry without wiping. The pieces shouW then 
 be fitted together as soon as possible, and kept in their places 
 by winding firmly over the bowl or dish a strong thread, or a 
 piece of twine ; put the broken article into a boiler, an inch or 
 two larger each way, and fill them both with sweet, cold, skim- 
 med milk ; set the boiler over the fire, and boil for ten or fifteen 
 minutes ; take it off, and let it stand till quite cold, when the 
 string, or twine, may Tae cut, and the article washed in warm 
 water. 
 
 If the above directions have been carefully attended to, the 
 vessel will be found firmly and permanently united, so that it 
 cannot again be separated at the same place, which looks only 
 like a crack. This is also an excellent method of preventing 
 
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 5 
 
 a 
 
 B 
 
 s- 
 
 g. 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
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 3 
 
 When the multitude applaud, you should inquire what wrong you have done. 
 
ascribe to them were sufficient to justify the breach of peace 
 
 680 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 =3 
 
 cracks from becoming fractures, provided the same process of 
 closing, by winding the thread, be observed. India, French, 
 and, we may add, our Philadelphia porcelain, are too close- 
 grained and hard to be mended in this way. 
 
 Hew to Tabe Grease Spots from Woolen Cloth. 
 Fuller's earth, or tobacco-pipe clay, being first wet, on an oil 
 or grease spot, absorbs the oil or grease as the water evapo- 
 rates, and leaves the vegetable or animal fibres of cloth clean, 
 on being beaten or brushed Tfell. When the spot is occasioned 
 by tallow or wax, it is necessary to treat the part cautiously by 
 an iron on the fire, while the cloth is drying. In some kinds of 
 goods, bran or raw starch may be used with advantage. 
 
 To Make 'WTilte'wash that will aot Rub off 
 Mix up half a pailful of lime and water, ready to put on the 
 wall ; then take one gill of flour, mix it up with the water, 
 then pour on it boiling water, a sufficient quantity to thicken it ; 
 then pour it, while hot, into the whitewash \ stir all well to- 
 gether, and it is ready for use. 
 
 Another Recipe for Whitewashing. 
 Take two quarts of newly-burnt lime ; the whitest pieces are 
 the best ; put them into a pail or kettle ; pour boiling water on 
 it and stir it often ; keep adding hot water to keep it fluid until 
 nearly dohe slacking ; then take a teacupful of rice and boil it 
 to a jelly ; filter through linen or cotton cloth, adding a part of 
 it first, the remainder while using. But, if you wish for yellow 
 wash; take horseradish leaves, half a pailful, boil them as if for 
 greens, filter, and add the juice to the foregoing composition, 
 and it will be a beautiful yellow. 
 
 Look out for Sarly Impressions. 
 Impressions are made on children as on rocks, by constant 
 dropping of the little influences. What can one drop do ? You 
 scarcely see it fall ; and presently it rolls away, or is evaporated ; 
 you cannot, even with a microscope, measure the little indenta- 
 tion it has made. Yet it is the constant repetition of this trifling 
 agency which furrows, and at length hollows out the very 
 granite. 
 
 Fatuily Government 
 
 Most parents govern by habit. They fall into some habitual 
 mode, and pursue it for life, not consideiing the effects produced. 
 Some render their children callous by incessant harsh scolding ; 
 when probably, looks and mild gestures, and tones of the voice, 
 would produce a gentle, complying disposition. 
 
 The follies of the fool are known to the world, but they are hidden from himself. 
 
of couree, tire most delicate attentions are reqaisite 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 581 
 
 .5 
 
 (A 
 
 ■■a 
 
 ay 
 
 S- 
 
 ^ 
 
 Family Literature. 
 
 It is very important that every parent, residing in the country 
 especially, should assume the oflSce of family t«icher. Where 
 the population is sparse, the children have not the privileges of 
 those in villages' and cities. Even uneducated parents are not 
 aware what excellent teachers they may become by adopting 
 simple modes of instruction ; and, what is not less important, 
 they will soon make up all deficiencies in their own educAtioi), 
 learning themselves as much again as their children do. 
 
 How to Cook Faisnips. 
 
 Scrape the parsnips, wash and slice them lengthwise ; boil in 
 just water enough to cover them till thoroughly done. Then put 
 in a piece of butter, with a little salt and pepper. Beat up an 
 egg with a spoonful of flour, and pour over them ; they are then 
 ready to dish up. Parsnips are likewise very good, split once 
 and roasted with pork in the dripping-pan. Cooked in this 
 manner, it is imagined no one can fail to relish them. 
 
 How to Make Calves' Feet Jelly. 
 
 Take the feet of a calf and boil them in one gallon of water 
 till it comes to a quart ; then strain it, and when it is cold skim 
 the fat entirely off, and take the jelly up clean ; if there be any 
 settling at the bottom, leave it. Put the jelly into a saucepan 
 with a pint of mountain wine, half a pound of loaf-sugar, the 
 juice of four large lemons, and the white of six eggs, beat up ; 
 mix art well together, set the saucepan upon a clear fire, and 
 stir the jelly Till it boils. When it has boiled a few minutes, 
 pour it through a flannel bag till it runs clear. Then have in 
 readiness a large china basin, with some lemon peel in it, cut as 
 thin as possible ; let the jelly run upon them while warm, and 
 from these it will acquire both an amber color and an agreeable 
 flavor. Afterward it may be poured into glasses. 
 To Know Good Flour. 
 
 When flour is genuine, or of the best kind, it holds together 
 in a mass when squeezed by the hand, and shows the impression 
 of the fingers, and even of the marks of the skin, much longer 
 than when it is bad or adulterated ; and the dough made with 
 it is very gluey, ductile, and elastic, easy to be kneaded, and 
 which may be elongated, flattened, and drawn in every direc- 
 tion, without breaking. 
 
 A Substitute for Soap. 
 
 A French writer recommends the use of potatoes three-fourths 
 boiled, as a substitute for soap. The recommendation has been 
 adopted, and, says the Medical Intelligencer, we can 
 
 assure our 
 
 The follies of the wise are known to himself, but they are hidden from the world. 
 
own wrathful and yiolent passions ; whereas, he 
 
 S82 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 'So 
 S 
 
 
 readers, from long personal experience, that boiled potatoes 
 cleanse the hands as thoroughly and as easily as common soap ; 
 they prevent the chaps in the winter season, and keep the skin 
 soft and healthy. 
 
 Recipe for Making t>reiDiiim Clieese. 
 For a cheese of twenty pounds, a piece of rennet about two 
 inches square is to be soaked about twelve hours in one pint of 
 water. As rennets differ much in quality, > enough should be 
 used to coagulate the milk sufficiently in about forty minutes. 
 No salt is put into the cheese, nor any outside during the first 
 six or eight hours it is being prepared ; but a thin coat of fine 
 Liverpool salt is kept on the outside during the remainder of the 
 time it remains in press. The cheeses are pressed forty-eight 
 hours under a weight of seven or eight hundred pounds. STo- 
 thing more is required but to turn the cheeses once a day on the 
 
 shelves. 
 
 » 
 
 Another Recipe for Making Prime Cheeae. 
 The milk strained in large tubs, over night ; the cream stirred 
 in milk in the morning strained in the same tub ; milk heated to 
 natural heat ; add color and rennet ; curd broke fine and whey 
 off, and broke fine in hoop with fast bottom, and put in strainer ; 
 pressed twelve hours ; then taken from hoop, and salt rubbed 
 on surface ; then put in hoop, without strairler, and pressed 
 forty-eight hours ; then put on tables, and salt rubbed on sur- 
 face, and remain in salt six days for cheese weighing thirty 
 pounds. The hoops to have holds in the bottom ; the erush- 
 ings are saved, and set and churned, to grease the cheese. 
 The above is for making one cheese per day. 
 
 How to Keep the Hands Soft. 
 Kub the hands well in soap till a lather is produced ; then 
 rub on a sufficient quantity of sand to let the soap predominate ; 
 after well rubbing, wash well in warm water. Repeat this two 
 or three times a day, as circumstances may require, and the 
 hands will be kept perfectly soft. 
 
 To Prevent Iron from Rusting. 
 Warm your iroji till you cannot hear your hand on it without 
 burning yourself. Then rub it with new and clean wax. Put 
 it again to the fire till it has Soaked in the wax. When done, 
 rub it over with a piece of serge. This prevents thd iron from 
 rusting afterward. 
 
 How to Preserve Eggs. 
 Pack them during summer and fall for winter. Take a stone 
 
 In the pursuit of knowledge,, we must seek it wherever it can be fbundi 
 
most is farthest from reality. Tbere may indeed be 
 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 533 
 
 jar or firtin, and put in a layer of salt half an inch deep ; insert 
 your eggs on the small end, and cover each layer of eggs with 
 salt. If the e^s are fresh when packed, and put into a cool, 
 dry place, they will keep perfectly good until the following 
 summer. 
 
 Another Way to Preserve ISggs. 
 
 When put down, eggs should he fresh, as none others can he 
 expected to keep under any circumstances. When deterioration 
 has fairly commenced, it will not easily he arrested. 
 
 Th?re are two methods of packing by which such eggs may 
 be preserved. One is to make a strong brine, pack the eggs 
 with the little end down, till the cask is full, and then pour the 
 brine over them till the interstices are full. The eggs must be 
 held dowa or they will rise in the brine. 
 
 Another way is to pack as befo're, and pour over them melt- 
 ed lard. In this they will keep good for a long time. When 
 taken out for use, put them in warm water, which will melt off 
 the lard, and which may be used again ad infinitum. We should 
 prefer this latter to any other mode we have ever known, be- 
 lieying it to be by far the best. 
 
 A Plain Lemon Pudding. 
 The juice of three lemons, the peel of one rubbed off with 
 sugar, six ounces of loaf-sugar powdered, (excepting what has 
 been used for the lemon peel,) a good-sized teaeupful of bread- 
 crumbs; while it is soaking together, beat up four eggs, kaving 
 out two whites ; melt one ounce of fresh butter, and mix all 
 well together; line and edge a dish with puff-paste, pour in the 
 above, and bake in a quick oven for three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 How to Make Sealing Wafers. 
 Take very fine flour, mix it with white of eggs, isinglass and 
 a little yeast; mingle the materials; beat them well togeth- 
 er, make the batter thin with gum-water, spread it even on thin 
 plates, and dry it in stoves ; then cut them for use. The paste 
 may be colored red with vermilion, or blue with indigo ; or if 
 without materials for coloring, may be used white. 
 To Relieve the Breath from Onions. 
 A few fresh walnuts or raw leaves of parsley, eaten im- 
 mediately after dinner, will speedily remove that disagreeable 
 taint which always infects the breath after partaking of onions 
 or garlics. 
 
 Preservation of Cucumbers. 
 In Germany and Poland, it is said barrels of cucumbers of 
 
 Warsare to the body politic ■what drams are to the indiviJifaL 
 
■where one may succeed to his wish, and be miseraWe-^where 
 
 584 MISCELLAMES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 ■3 
 .a 
 
 I 
 
 various sizes and ages, headed up water ti^ht, are preserved 
 fresh, from one year to another, by immel-sing them in deep 
 wells, where the uniform temperaturt and exclusion of tEe air 
 seem to be the preserving agents. 
 
 Recipe for Peach Pickles. 
 Take one gallon of good vinegar, and add to it four pounds of 
 brown sugar ; boil this for a few minutes, and skim off the scum 
 that may rise ; then take clingstone peaches that are fully ripe; 
 rub them with a flannel cloth, to remove the down upon them, 
 and stick three or four cloves in each ; put them into a glass or 
 earthen vessel, and pour the liquid upon them boiling hot. 
 Cover them up and let them stand in a cool place for a week or 
 ten days ; then pour off the liquor and boil as before ; after 
 which, return it, boiling, to the peaches, which should be care- 
 fully covered Sip and stored away for future use. 
 
 Keeping Beef Fresh. 
 
 Combe says, in preserving beef, the ribs will keep longest — . 
 five of six days in summer; the middle of the loin next; the 
 rump next ; the round next ; and, the shortest of all, the bris- 
 ket, which will not keep more than three days in hot weather. 
 
 HoTv to Prevent the Ravages of Moths. 
 
 The ravages of the woolen moth may be prevented, by the 
 use of tobacco, camphor, red pepper, turpentine, and perhaps, 
 the most agreeable for wearing apparel, a mixture of one ounce 
 of cloves, one ounce of rhubarb, and one ounce of cedar shavings, 
 tied up in a bag, and kept in the box or drawer. If the sub- 
 stance be dry, scatter it in the folds of the cloth, carpet, blan- 
 kets, or furs ; if liquid, sprinkle it freely in the boxes, or on the 
 cloth or wrapper, laid over and around it. 
 
 Fire and Water-Proof Cement 
 To half a pint of milk, put an equal quantity of vinegar, in 
 order to curdle it ; then separate the curd and the whey, and 
 mix the whey with four or five eggs, beating the whole well 
 together. When it is well mixed, add a little quicklime through 
 the sieve, until it has acquired the consistence of paste. With 
 this cement, broken vessels and cracks of all kinds may be 
 mended. It dries quickly, and resists the action of the water, 
 as well as of a Considerable degree of fire. 
 
 How to Fickle Cucumbers. 
 Select a sufficient quantity of the size you prefer, which, prob- 
 ably, cannot be done at one time. Put them in a stone pot or 
 a wood cask, and pour over them a strong brine ; to this add a 
 
 Hannibal knew better bow to cotiquer, than bow to profit by the conquest 
 
One void opens in the heart as another is filled. On -wishes, 
 
 MISCELLANTES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 585 
 
 t3 
 
 It 
 
 s 
 <a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 small bit of alum, to secure the color. Let tUem stand a week ; 
 then exchange the brine for clear water, in which they must re- 
 main two or three days. Boil the best cider vinegar, and, when 
 nearly cool, pour it over the cucumbers, having previously 
 turned off the water. Prepared in this manner, with the addi- 
 tion of cloves, allspice, mustard, and cinnamon, boiled in the vin- 
 egar, pickles of every kind will keep for a year. 
 
 Mcfw to Make Spruce Beer. 
 Mix in a barrel ten gallons of cold water and eleven gallons 
 of boiling water. Add thirty pounds of molasses, or twenty- 
 four pounds of brown sugar, and one ounce or more of the 
 essence of spruce. To this add also a pint of yeast, and fer- 
 ment. In two or three days put it in bottles. If you desire 
 white beer, use lump sugar. This makes a most refreshing 
 beverage. 
 
 Cheap Summer Beer for Farmers. 
 
 Fill a boiler with the gieen shells of peas ; pour on water till 
 it rises half an inch above the shells, and simmer for three 
 hours. Strain off the liquor, and add a strong decoction of hops, 
 or wood sage, if you have it, so as to render it pleasantly bitter ; 
 then ferment in the usual manner. By boiling a fresh quantity 
 of shells in the decoction before it becomes cold, it may become 
 so thoroughly impregnated with saccharine matter, as to afford 
 a liquor, when fermented, as strong as pale ale. 
 
 Another Recipe for Spruce Beer. 
 
 Take a sufficient quantity of spruce boughs ; boil them in 
 water half an hour, or till the outward skin or rind peels off; 
 strain the liquor, and stir in at the rate of two quarts of molasses 
 to half a barrel. Work it with beer grounds or emptyings, or 
 rather with yeast. 
 
 What is Education? 
 Education does not mean going to school in your boyhood, 
 or college in youth ; but it means the power to take your mind 
 and make it an instrument of conveying knowledge and good 
 impressions to other minds, as well as being itself made happy. 
 To cultivate the mind, then, does not mean to read much or 
 little, to converse and to observe ; but to discipline it in all ways 
 in your power. 
 
 How to Cook Venison Steaks. 
 'Cut them moderately thick, and place on a gridiron over a 
 slow fire. When done on both sides, remove them to the plate, 
 and on both sides of each, sprinkle salt, pepper, powdered 
 
 Napoleon was more skillful in taking positions than in maintaining them. 
 
what ought to be done today, we overcharge the morrow with 
 
 586 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 se 
 
 cloves, butter, and currant jelly, and pile them as compactly as 
 possible. This keeps them warm, and furnishes a rich gravy, 
 
 How to Make Souse. 
 
 Boil a pig's head or feet four or five hours, or until very ten- 
 der, take out all the bones, and lay the meat in a stone jar ; 
 boil vinegar with cloves, pepper, and a little salt, mix with this 
 so much of the jelly from the water in which the meat was 
 boiled as will prevent too much acidity, and with the liquid 
 cover the meat entirely. When wanted for use, cut it in slices, 
 and after heating it in a frying-pan, pour off the liquid, and 
 brown the meat, or dip the slices in batter, and fry in a pan just 
 rubbed with butter or lard. 
 
 Recipe for Drying Pears. 
 
 Pare the fruit and leave the stalks on ; cover them with wa- 
 ter ; and either boil in a brass kettle, or stew in some other ves- 
 sel until they are tender. Then lay them upon old dishes, and 
 put them in a slow oven to dry ; turn them frequently, that all 
 parts may dry equally. When done, put them in bags, and 
 hang them in a dry place, or keep them in tin canisters or 
 boxes. Reserve the water in which the fruit is boiled, a,nd by 
 constantly using this in succeeding operations, a syrup is ob- 
 tained, which gives a gloss to the fruit, as if sugar were used. 
 
 How to Make Stair Carpets Last. 
 
 Slips of paper should always be placed over the edges of the 
 stairs under the carpet. This will diminish the friction be- 
 tween the carpet and the boards underneath it. The strips 
 should be in length within an inch or two of the width of the 
 carpet, and four or five inches in breadth, as convenient. This 
 simple expedient will preserve the carpet half as long again as 
 it would last without the strips. 
 
 How to Make Soap without Boiling. 
 
 Take one gallon of lye, strong enough to bear up an egg, to 
 every pound of grease. Put the lye into your barrel, and strain 
 the grease hot through a sieve or cullender. Stir this three or 
 four times a day for several days, or until it thickens. By this 
 process you have soap clearer, and with much less trouble, than 
 in the old way. 
 
 To Make Water Cool 'Without loe. 
 
 Let the jar, or pitcher, or vessel used for water, be surround- 
 ed with one or more folds of coarse cotton, and be kept con- 
 stantly wet. The evaporation of the water will carry off the 
 heat from the inside, and reduce it to nearly a freezing point, 
 so that the water will be almost as cold as though it contained 
 
 Honors bestow«d on the dead have in them no admixture of envy. 
 
Hopes and fears, joy and sorrow, are, therefore, so blended in his 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 687 
 
 I 
 
 ■s, 
 
 ice. la India and other tropical regions, where ice is not had, 
 this is common. 
 
 How to Preserve Fresh Fish. 
 For ensuring the sweetness of fish conveyed by land carriage, 
 the belly of the fish should be opened, and the internal parts 
 sprinkled with powdered charcoal. The same material will re- 
 store even putrescent water to a state of perfect freshness. 
 The inhabitants of Cadiz, who keep their water for culinary pur- 
 poses in tanks, maintain its freshness by this means. 
 
 Economy in Food. 
 Meat used cold is less nourishing, and does not go so far as 
 when eaten warm ; broths, stews, and hashes of meat, mixed 
 up with vegetables, and flavored with parsley, chives, and onions, 
 salt and pepper, are better and cheaper, and more nourishing 
 and agreeable for the worklng-raan, than plain meat. 
 
 To Make Bee's-Wax. 
 
 To obtain wax, boil the combs in a strong muslin bag, in a 
 saucepan, with water sufficient to keep, the bag from burning; 
 and while boiling, continue to press the bag with a wooden slice 
 or spoon, to extract the whole, as you skim off the wax. Drop 
 the wax into cold water, where it will swim on the surface. 
 The wax thus obtained will still want refining, to effect which 
 place in a saucepan, and melt it over a slow fire. Then pour 
 off the clear wax into proper vessels, and let it cool. 
 How to Make Welsh Rare-Bits. 
 
 To each person take a quarter of a pound of rich new cheese, 
 chop it fine, and put it into an iron or tin saucepan. Add a lit- 
 tle water or beer,' and stir it over the fire till the cheese is dis- 
 solved. Have in readiness a slice of toast on a warm plate, 
 upon which the mess should be immediately poured. For 
 seasoning, use pepper, mustard, salt, according to your taste. 
 How to Make Blackberry Mush. 
 
 Boil two quarts of blackberries ten minutes, and add half a 
 pint of molasses. When it boils again, dust into it, from the 
 edges, three table-spoonfuls of fine wheat flour ; stir it all the 
 time, and when the flour is completely mixed m, it is done 
 enough. It makes a cheap and healthful dessert for the table. 
 Directions for Making Indian Gruel. 
 
 Take one quart of boiling water, and stir in two or three 
 table-spoonfuls of finely-sifted Indian, meal, previously nuxed 
 with a little cold water. Add salt to your liking, and let the 
 mixture boil for fifteen or twenty minutes. A small quantity ot 
 
 Pity and envy, like oil and vinegar, will never assimilate to each other. 
 
violent spirit, like troubled waters, renders back the image of things 
 
 688 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 pulverized crackers, a few raisins, or a little sugar added, will 
 render it more palatable 
 
 SoMT to 'Wash Woolen Gooda. 
 
 The art of washing woolen goods, says the Nashville Agri- 
 culturist, so as to prevent th6m from shrinking, is one of the 
 desiderata in domestic economy worthy of being recorded ; and 
 it is, therefore, vrith satisfaction we explain it. All descriptions 
 of woolen goods should be washed in very hot water, with clean 
 soap ; and, as soon as the article is cleansed, immerse it in cold 
 water ; let it then be hung up to dry. 
 
 How to Pack Butter for Long Preservation. 
 
 Take a stone pot, or jar, that will hold thirty or forty pounds ; 
 clean it thoroughly, and wash it in cold, strong brine ; take of 
 new sweet butter, well made and free from buttermilk ; work it 
 well, and put a layer of it, a few inches in thickness, in the jar ; 
 beat it down solid with a wooden beater, turning oflf the milk 
 that will escape occasionally ; then repeat the process, until the 
 pot is filled within an inch and a half of the top with butter 
 thoroughly pounded down ; on the top of this pour one inch of 
 clear brine, made by dissolving salt in warm water, and put on 
 when cold ; cork the jar tight, and tie over a cloth or piece of 
 buckskin ; keep the jar at a low temperature, and the butter 
 will keep sweet and good for an indefinite length of time, only 
 examining it occasionally to see that it is covered with the brine, 
 and renewing it, if ne,cessary. 
 
 HoTnT to Make Butter Biscuits. 
 Half a pound of buttei', two pounds of flour sifted, half a pint 
 of milk, or cold water, a teaspoonful of salt ; cut up the butter 
 in the flour, and put the salt to it, wet it to a stift' dough with 
 the milk, or water ; mix it well with a knife, throw some flour 
 on the paste-board, take the dough out of the pan, and knead 
 it very well. Roll it out into a large, thick sheet, and beat it 
 very hard on both sides with the rolling-pin ; beat it a long time, 
 cut it out with a tin, or cup, into small, round, thick cakes. Beat 
 each cake on both sides with a rolling-pin, prick them with a 
 fork, put them in buttered pans, and bake them of a light brown 
 in a slow oven. 
 
 Directions for Preserving Crab-Apples. 
 Wash the fruit ; cover the bottom of the preserving-kettle 
 with grape- leaves ; put in the apples; hang them over the fire, 
 with a visry fittle water, and cover them closely. Do Hot allow 
 them to boil, but let them simmer gently, till tbey are yellow. 
 Take them out, and spread them on a large dish to cool; pare 
 
 In the stortns of life, those that are foreseen are half ovorcome. 
 
i 
 
 follies of the imprudent, and the le vity of the fickle, we retreat 
 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. ^gg 
 
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 and core them; put them again into the kettle, with fresh vine- 
 leaves under and over them, and a very little vcater; hano- them 
 over the fire till they are green, but do not let them toif; take 
 tliem out, weigh them, and allow a pound of loaf-sugar to a 
 pound of crab-apples; put to the sugar just water enough to 
 dissolve ; when it is all melted, put it on the fire, and boil the 
 apples till they are quite clear and soft. Put them in jars, and 
 pour the warm liquor over them. When cold, tie them up with 
 brandy-paper. ^ 
 
 To Preserve Green Corn for Boiling. 
 Pluck the corn when fit for eating ; strip down the husk so 
 as to remove the silk, and then replace it. Pack it away in a 
 barrel, and pour on strong pickle, such as is used for meat, with 
 a weight to keep it down, and you will have a good stock par- 
 boiled, and then boiled, to make it perfectly fresh and sweet as 
 when taken from the stock. 
 
 Recipe for Drying Peaches. 
 
 Just before fully ripe, peel peaches, either plum or soft 
 peaches, take out the nuts, put them in boiling water till they 
 are a little soft ; take them out arid throw them into a pailful of 
 cold water; when cold, drain and weigh them. To every pound 
 of peaches put half a pound of powdered loaf-sugar. Lay the 
 peaches in a kettle, and sprinkle the sugar until it is all in. Let 
 it remain until the syrup runs sufficiently to allow putting it on 
 over a very slow fire, when the sugar is all melted. Let them 
 boil slowly till the peaches look clear; then put them in a large 
 bowl, apd let them remain all night. The next morning place 
 them snugly in dishes and put them into the sun to dry. Turn 
 them over every day until they are suflSoiently dry to be packed 
 in boxes or jars. The soft peaches are as good, if not better, 
 than the plum, and the nut is taken out much easier. The 
 peaches will break some of them in doing. After they have 
 been in the sun two or three days, with a teaspoon and a silver 
 fork draw. the broken pieces together in the form and size of a 
 peach, and they will dry solid. There will be more syrup than 
 can be dried with them, which may be used by boiling some 
 peaches prepared as above in the spare syrup. These will be 
 inferior, but still good. 
 
 How to JMake Rhubarb Pies. I 
 
 Cut the stalks to pieces of the size of a gooseberry, stew them 
 a little in a saucepan, put them into a dish with its bottom cov- 
 ered with a crust ; squeeze over them a little lemon-juice, adding 
 orange-peel, sugar, rose-water, and cinnamon to your taste ; 
 cover the whole with a good puff paste, and then bake it. 
 
 5: 
 
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 Modesty ie the ricbe^t and moat brilliant ornament of a wojmaix. 
 
tkey are no longtT the property of the poet, but of the wortd ; 
 
 590 MISCELLANIES IN DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 
 
 ■a 
 
 So'W to Bleach Bee's-Wax. 
 Melt your wax, and while hot throw it into cold water to re- 
 duce it into small pieces, or spread it out into very thin leaves 
 and lay it out in the sun and air for a few days on linen cloths ;' 
 then melt it over again, and expose it as before, till the sun and 
 dew have bleached it ; then, for the last time, melt it in a kettle, 
 and oast it with a ladle on a table covered over with little round 
 hollow moulds in the form of the casks sold by the apothecaries ; 
 but first wet the moulds with cold water, that the wax may be 
 the easier got out ; lastly, lay it out in the air for two or three 
 days and nights, to make it more transparent and drier. 
 
 To Make Calicoes Wash Well. 
 
 Infuse three gills of salt in four quarts of boiling water, and 
 put the calicoes in while hot, and leave them till cold ; in this 
 way the colors are rendered permanent, and will not fade by 
 subsequent washing. So says a lady who has frequently made 
 the experiment herself. Nothing can be cheaper or quicker 
 done. 
 
 To Remove Spots from Leather Gloves. 
 
 Suspend them in a jar over the strongest liquid ammonia — 
 hartshorn. The fumes alone will remove the spots. Be very 
 careful not to let the liquid touch the gloves, for it would leave 
 a mark even more unsightly than the spot to be removed. 
 
 Unequal Duration of Candles. 
 
 From some experiments it appears that of all the different 
 sizes of tallow candles, that called " sixes to the pound " burns 
 longest. A difference has also been found in the length of time 
 which candles of the same size will burn. In one instance a 
 candle of that size burnt six hours and forty-seven minutes, and 
 in another, one of the same size, but different tallow, burnt seven 
 hours and seventeen minutes, making a difference of three hours 
 to the pound. The difference in the qualities of the two candles 
 arose in all probability from the nature of the fat employed in 
 making them. Mutton suet, or the suet of oxen and cows fed 
 with still-wash, will not be so hard, and of course will not make 
 such good candles as if the animals had been fed on grass or 
 Indian com. 
 
 %. 
 
 Virtue consoles us i« our pains, while vic3 jtinga us even in our pleasures. 
 
enmg the land fie nee, although there have been 
 
 
 591 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY; 
 
 INOLUDINO 
 
 RECEIPTS, FRAGMENTS, AKD LACONICS UPON MANY OF THE 
 
 MOST IMPORTANT SUBJECTS DAILY OCCURRING IN 
 
 THE MANAGEMENT OF A FARM. 
 
 Much here given, in the tit-bit forra, may be found in other 
 parts of the volume ; but, knowing that Bomoeopathy is becom- 
 ing extensively popular in the healing art, we have so far re- 
 solved to give it our sanction, as to deal out a portion of our 
 own prescriptions in small doses ; which, at any rate, will have 
 the advantage of not costing the reader much time or money. 
 However, we think we can assure the reader that this depart- 
 ment of the Farmer's Every Day Book will have positive as 
 well as negative attractions about it. Hence, we confident- 
 ly recommend it to his daily attention ; and seldom will a 
 day come round not furnishing occasion to reduce some portion 
 of it to practice. 
 
 The Flower Garden. 
 
 How lovely is a garden. 
 With all its perfumes, and its various hues ! 
 The blushing rose. Clematis sweet, and fair 
 Narcissus of poetic tale, and all 
 The scented tribe ; in number, far beyond 
 The art of man to tell, so endless is 
 The offspiing of great Nature's call. What can 
 Skill, and man's device, invent so lovely. 
 And so fair ? — Not Solomon, in all his 
 Sheen, was deck'd like one — the least of these : 
 And wondrous is the change in these fair forms. 
 In spring, in summer — autumn, and in death — 
 How like the cause of man's eventual round. 
 Of youth, of manhood ; feebleness, and age ! 
 
 What can be done on One Acre of Ground. 
 The editor of the Maine Cultivator published, sometime in 
 1849, his management of one acre of ground, from which we 
 gather the following results — one-third of an acre in corn usu- 
 ally produced thirty bushels of sound corn for grinding, besides 
 some refuse. This quantity is sufficient for' family use, and for 
 fattening one large or two small hogs. From the same ground 
 he produced two or three hundred pumpkins, and his family 
 
 True courage, well directed, can neither be overpaid nor overpraised. 
 
is taught by all of tliem ; thus using his own capital together 
 
 <S2 
 
 592 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 supply of dry beans. From a bed of six rods square, he usu- 
 ally obtained 60 bushels of onions ; these he sold at $1 00 per 
 bushel, and the amount purchased his flour. Thus from one- 
 third of an acre and an onion bed, he obtained his breadstuffs. 
 The rest of the ground was appropriated to all sorts of vegeta- 
 bles, for summer and winter use ; potatoes, beets, parsnips, cab- 
 bage, green corn, peas, beans, cucumbers, melons, squashes, 
 (fee, with fifty or sixty bushels of beets and carrots for tiie win- 
 ter food of a cow. Then he had also a flower garden, rasp- 
 berries, currants, and gooseberries, in great variety, and a few 
 choice apple, pear, plum, cherry, peach, and quince trees. 
 
 Some reader may call the above a " Yankee trick ;" so it is, 
 and our object in publishing it is to have it repeated all over 
 Yankee land, and everywhere else. If a family can be sup- 
 ported from one acre in Maine, the same can be done in every 
 State and county in the Union. 
 
 Milk of London. 
 
 It has been estimated that about 12,000 cows are necessary 
 for the supply of London and its environs with milk ; that the 
 average daily quantity yielded by each cow is about nine quarts 
 —^making a total of 40 million quarts per annum. The value 
 of the milk is estimated at from four and a half to five millions 
 of dollars. 
 
 Evils of Improvidence. 
 
 To look no furth6r than the present moment ; to live at ran- 
 dom, secure, careless of any future exigencies ; to concern your- 
 selves about nothing but what is immediately before you ; and, 
 in the enjoyment of to-day, to take no manner of thought for 
 to-morrow, must inevitably be productive of the most fatal con- 
 sequences, not only on yourselves, but perhaps to posterity ; it 
 may entail misery on your children which are yet unborn. 
 
 Dry Wood for FueL 
 
 Count Rumford once estimated that an average cord of green 
 wood contains more than two hogsheads of water. Now to ob- 
 tain any heat, this water must first be raised to the boiling 
 point, and expelled by evaporation, ffecessarily, the heat re- 
 quired to do this is lost for all useful purposes ; and the waste 
 in the consumption of that cord is sufficient to boil thirteen and 
 a half hogsheads of water. The housekeeper may learn from 
 this the advantage of using well-eeasoned fuel. If a man car- 
 ries a hundred cords of green wood to market in a year, he 
 will see that he carries over two hundred hogsheads of water, 
 which might have been avoided. 
 
 It would be a great miracle indeed, were a bad man made happy. 
 
propriety of dressing Bortewhat beyond their means, but of 
 
 I- 
 
 I: 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 593 
 
 Signs of Raiu. 
 
 The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more red, or heat-mat- 
 ing rays ; and as dry ajr is not -perfectly transparent, they are 
 again reflected \n the liorizon. I have generally observed a cop- 
 pery or yello* sunset to foretell rain, but as an indication of 
 wet weather approaching, nothing is more certain than a halo 
 round (he moon, -vyhich is produced by the precipitated water ; 
 and the larger the circle, the nearer tlie clouds, and consequently 
 the more ready to fall. — Sir H. Davy. 
 
 Ferfection of Nature. 
 
 Upon examining; the edge of -the sharpest razor or lancet with 
 a microscope,. it will appear fully as broad as the^back of a knife 
 -rronghj uneven, and full of notches and furrows. An exceed- 
 ingly small needle resembles an iroji bar. But the sting of a bee, 
 seen through th6 same instrument, exhibits everywhere the most 
 beautiful polish, without tbe least flaw, blemish, or inequal- 
 ity, and it ends in a point too fine to be discerned. The 
 threads of a fine lawn seena coarser than the yarn with which 
 ropes are made for anchors. . But a silk-'yvorm's web appears 
 perfectly . smooth and shining, and everywhere equal. The 
 smallest dot that is made with a pen appears irregular and un- 
 even. But the little specks on the wings or bodies of insects 
 are found to be the most accurately circular. How magnifigent 
 is the system of Nature I 
 
 Affection for Offspring. 
 
 One of the Strongest feelings of animals is that of affection 
 for their offspring ; and, indeed,, so intense is this impulse among 
 th« greater number, that Jt may be said to exceed the care 
 which they employ for their ovrn preservation, or the indulgence 
 of their own appetites. Among insects and some other of the 
 inferior, tribes, the care and solicitude of providing for their 
 young engrosses the better half of their existence ; for they labor 
 durino- the prime of life to provide a comfortable nest and proper 
 food for their offspring, which they arc never destined to see, 
 death overtaking them before they can enjoy thepleasure of be- 
 holding their future family. Many timid animals, that shrink 
 from danger while they are single and alone, become bold and 
 pugnacious when surrounded by tbeir young, 
 
 Thjis the domestic hen will face an^ danger and encounter 
 any foe, in order to protect her brood of chickens ; and the lark 
 and' linnet ,will allow themselves to be taken in their nest, rather 
 than desert the young which lie protected under their wings. 
 Even those animals whose general nature is characterized by 
 sivao-e and unrelenting fierceness,, are gentle, and lender, and 
 
 Short as life is, some find it long enough to outlive their good name. 
 
they both appear great and appalling at a distance, but as we 
 
 594 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 I- 
 
 ■3. 
 
 •& 
 
 I 
 
 affectionate to their young. Tlie grim lion fondles witli paternal 
 softness his playful Cubs ;'and the savage bear has been known 
 to' interpose her own body between the deadly ftnisket and her 
 helpless offspring. But this feeling in. animals lasts only for a 
 season. After they have nourished and brought up their young, 
 .these go out from their parents,, all further ties bet\yeen them 
 are broken up, and they know each other no more. 
 
 How different is, this from human connections! The fond 
 mother ■watched over the long and helpless period of infancy; 
 instills into early childhood Jessons of wisdcmi and virtue, aifd 
 feels her hopes and affections increase ■with every year that biihgs 
 ari increase of reason. Nor are such family ties, severed till 
 death. The child, on jts part," returns the care and affection of 
 its parents ; and when old age and second childhood come upon 
 them, the children then feel it their greatest IrappineSs to repay 
 in acts of kindness and attention, the debt of gratitude which is 
 justly, due. What a moral beauty is thus throvfn over the com- 
 mon instinctive affections, and hovir greatly superior appears man's 
 nature to that of the mere brute! 
 
 Longeirity of the Horse. 
 
 It has long been an impression 'that, the ordinary duration of 
 a horse's life is much shoi-ter than it ought to be, and that the 
 excess of mortality is the result of carelessness or ignorant man- 
 agement. The' great error consists in regard to the tempera- 
 ment and general constitution of a horse as altogether different 
 from those of a human being^; whereas they are precisely tlie 
 same in all important respects. Disease arising from excessive 
 fatigue, overheating and exposure to , air, want of exercise, im^ 
 proper diet, both as respects quality atjd quantity, and from 
 many other causes, affects the horse and his master alike, and 
 neglect in either case must terminate fatally. Indeed, when a 
 man or horse has acquired, by a course of training, a high de- 
 gree of health and vigor, the skin of each is an infallible index 
 of the fact. 
 
 It has been often remarked in England, that the skin of the 
 pugilist, wh6 has undergone a severe course of training, when 
 he prepares himself for the figlit, exhibits a degree of beauty 
 and exceeding fairness that excites the admiration as well as 
 wonder of the spectators. So with the horse — his skin is the 
 clearest evidence of the general state of his health. Even ^''^ 
 common disease of foundering is not pectiliar to the horse, but 
 is me^-ely a muscular affection, to which many men; who have 
 overstrained themselves at any period, are subject. In fact, the 
 medical treatment of the horse and his rider ought to be the 
 same ; and .we confidently believe that if this principle were 
 
 If any think life ;too short, let thom add to the length of each day. 
 
— — ■ ' ' ' Hr ' — 
 
 which each Bpectator eeems to constitute the centre. The 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 695 
 
 acted upon with a moderate share of attention and desolation, 
 the average age of this useful animal would be much longer, and 
 the profit derived from his labot-s proportionally greater. 
 
 The Horse's Bye. 
 ' Examine the eye first, when the horse stahds with his head to 
 the manger. Look carefully at the pupil of the eye, in the 
 horse ; it is of an oblong' form ; carry the size of the pupil in 
 your mind, then turn the horse about, bring him to a bright 
 light, and if the pupil of the eye contracts, and appears much 
 smaller than it was in the darker light, then you may be sure 
 the horse has a strong, good eye ; but provided the pupil 
 remains nearly the same size as it appeared in the darker 
 light, the horse has a weak eye, therefore have nothing to^do 
 with him. 
 
 Remeijy for the Bets In Horses. 
 
 A correspondent of the Albany Cultivator says— Having seen 
 many horses die with the bots, and many remedies given with- 
 out effect, I was induced by a merchant in Cambridge to try the 
 following, for a horse of mine, after I had tried most of the 
 )-emedies in common use to no purpose, and given him up 
 for lost:— Half a pint of vinegar, half a, pint of soft soap, 
 half a pint of gin, and half a pint of molasses, well shaken 
 together, and poured down while foaming. To my great sur- 
 prise, the horse was in five minutes wholly free from pam, and 
 ate fieely ; the next morning I was on my journey. I have 
 since recommended and given the same in perhaps fifty^cases, 
 with the same good effect ; not in one instance has it faded to 
 effect a perfect cure. 
 
 To Prevent Balls of Snow on Horses' Feet. 
 
 Let the frog in the hoof and the fetlock be well cleaned, and 
 then rubbed with soft soap previous to their going oat m snowy 
 weather. This will effectually prevent balls of snow from col- 
 lecting on the feet, which will sometimes^ cause the animal to 
 fall, and if not, ^nakes his progress doubly toilsome. 
 A Prescription for the Staggers. 
 
 Give a mash twice a week, composed of one gallon of bran, 
 one tivble-spoonful of sulphur, one teaspoonful of saltpetre one 
 quart of boiling sassafras tea, and an eighth of an ounce of asa- 
 foetida. Do not let the horse have any cold drmk for half a 
 day afterward. 
 
 An Application for the Mange. 
 
 Make a mi.xture of hog's lard and_ the' flowers of ^^'pl'";;; 
 equal parts. With_ this, anoint twice or three tim es a day. 
 
 Envy, like the scorpion within a circle of fire, stinga itself to death. 
 
Ererj nigi^&A increases in size, and removes to a greater 
 
 5% MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 .g 
 
 eg 
 
 ^leed alsiij; syid within six or eight days giv# two or three 
 mashes made of sulphur, saltpetre, and sassafras; 
 
 Remedy for Surfeit in a Horse. 
 
 Let the animal be first bled in the neck.' Then give him, three 
 times a week, mashes made as fpllows : four quarts of bran 
 well mixed with hot ' sassafras tea, to which being added a tea- 
 spoonful of saltpetre and a table-spoonful of sulphur. After a 
 mash give no water for half a day.> As a drink, sfissafras may 
 be given, with one ounce of saltpetre to the gallon. Siilpliur 
 and hog's lard in equal parts may be used as an ointment. 
 Remedy for Scratches la Horses. 
 
 Wash with strong soap-suds, then with strong copperas- 
 water. Repeat this twice a day until be is cured. For a daily 
 drink, give sassafras or spicewood tea, or saltpetre dissolved in 
 his drink. Some recommend the juice of Jamestown weed, or 
 a decoction of red-oak bark ; others, spii'its of turpentine or blue 
 stone-water, greasing often with hog*s lard. Pokeroot is also 
 good. But by all means keep the horse's, feet clean. 
 
 How to Relieve Horses from tlie Bite of Flies. 
 
 Three or four handfuls of walnut leaves. steeped in three 
 quarts of waiter— first for half a day cold, and then boiled for 
 an hour or so. Let it cool, and it will be fit for application, in 
 the following manner : With a sponge, and before the horse 
 leaves the stable, let those parts which are most easily bitten 
 be smeared over with (he liquid, to wit, the legs, flanks, neck, 
 ears, and about the ears. This will not only pi'otect the horse 
 from these harassing little creatures, but the chance is^that the 
 driver also will be partially relieved from their society. 
 
 ' A Remedy for Founder in Horses. 
 
 A horse foundered should be immediately attended to. The 
 seeds of the sunflower are supposed to be the best known rem- 
 edy. Mix one pint of the seed whole with his feed, and an en- 
 tire cure ipay be expected. )i 
 To Ascertain the Age of a Horse. ' ' 
 
 Every horse has six teeth above and below; before three 
 years old he sheds his middle teeth; at three he sheds, one 
 more on ea.ch side of the central teeth; at four he sheds the two 
 corner and last of the four teeth. Between four and five the 
 horse cuts the under tusks ; at five will cut the tipper tusks, at 
 which time his mouth will be complete. At six the grooves and 
 hollows begin to fill up a little ; at seven the grooves will be well 
 nigh filled up, except the corner teeth, leaving little brown spots 
 where the dark-brown hollows formerly were. • At eight, the 
 
 A poor man, who is extravagant, spends his money to be laughed at. 
 
_ MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 597' 
 
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 S 
 
 m 
 
 a. 
 
 M 
 0} 
 
 bo 
 
 B 
 
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 whole of the hollows^i^rooves are filled ud aT^^TTT^ 
 '4intVr",T-^"™^" '■" *" the oSeT;rnfr\:"h ■':,;: 
 pns to hi up and become convex; th€ squares of the central 
 
 row'itop/'^^''^^^'^"' ''- ^^^"^ ''^^^ thitrs 
 
 A Cure for Wmd-Galls in Horses. 
 
 . Mf.ke a strong decoction of red-oak bark ; add these to some 
 
 STsT" f"' ' ""'^ ^'"^ ^» P"^-^-' Bathllbe Tart 
 with thjs decocUon as warm as possible, twice a day, and bind 
 
 How to Cure a Cough in Horses. 
 
 P«t into a mortar two ounces of antimony; four ounces of 
 black regulus of antimony ; and eightounces of nitre, to be well 
 pukenaed and n,ix*d. It is to be given in doses of one ounce 
 eiwh. lo wit, in a cold mash, three days in succession ; choose 
 niild weather. Then omit the application for a week. Provided 
 the cough remains th<? same, give him the medicine three times 
 more as before, and then omit a week. It will be serviceable 
 that tlie atiimal have in the mean time moderate exercise • but 
 must not be allowed to stand in a cold wind. It is best to dve 
 the medicine at night. 
 
 Recipe for Heaves in Horses. 
 
 A correspondent of the Cultivator says, after trying various 
 modes of treatment for horses having the heaves, he prefers the 
 following : To feed no hay, but plenty of bright uncut straw, 
 with all the oats they will eat, the oats soaked in cold wat«r 
 three or four hours, with a pint of oil meal, that is, flaxseed, 
 daily. On this feed they have worked well, and were troubled 
 but litde with the disease. 
 
 How to Preserve your Horse. 
 A writer in the Farmer and Gardener says, a horse that is 
 driven pn hard roads is liable to get stiff in the joints. In 1833 
 I had an animal which, after driving three or four days, got 
 quite lame. An old Baltimore teamster told me to wash the 
 mare's legs in a tolerably salt biine, which was donfe according- 
 ly three times a day for the balance of the journey. The stiff- 
 ness disappeared in a few days, and I drove the mare fourteen 
 hundred miles afterward, and there was no more trouble on that 
 account. What pleased me most was, the mare had a Very 
 poor foot to bold a shoe when I started. It was very brittle 
 and hard. It would break out when a nail was put in. But it 
 
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 5' 
 
 a 
 
 Posthumous diarities have beed called the verjr essence of selfishness. 
 
Egypt. The Phoeniciana are said to have applied it to .the 
 
 598 MISCELLAMES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 r 
 
 bo 
 M 
 
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 3 
 •s 
 
 .9 
 
 grew together at every shoeing. A Haclcsmith in New England 
 remarked to me that her foot h^d a singular appearance ; where 
 he pfired it was soft and tough. I account for it in this way : 
 salt will attract moisture from the atmosphere, which keeps the 
 foot moist all the time ; and salt has nearly the same effect that 
 grease has on a foot or a piece of timber. The drippings from 
 salt on a floor, if continued long, cannot be got off, the wood 
 becomes moist and tough, and so with a horse's foot. After 
 washing the legs, turn up the horse's foot, clean the bottom, 
 pour the hollow full of brine, and hold for a few minutes to soak 
 the bottom. The practice of rasping the foot all over to toughen 
 it, is abominable. 
 
 To Train a Horse to the Harness. 
 He must be treated with gentleness. • Yoa may commence 
 by throwing a rope over the back, and letting it bang loose on 
 both sides ; then lead him about, cai-essing him until he becomes 
 satisfied that it will not hurt him ; then put on'the harness, and 
 pull gently on the traces. In a short time, by this kind of treat- 
 ment, he will be prepared for work. 
 
 To Cure Thrush in Horses' Feet. 
 Simmer over the fire, till it turns brown, equal parts of honey, 
 vinegar, and verdigris, and apply it with a feather or brush oc- 
 casionally to the feet. The horse at the same time should stand 
 hard, and all soft dung and straw be removed. 
 
 To Prevent Saddle Galls. 
 Saddle galls are generally occasioned by an unequal pressure 
 of the saddle, or by a saddle being badly fitted to a horse's back, 
 and if neglected they grow into very ugly and troublesome sores. 
 When these inflamed tumors are first discovered, cold water 
 alone is frequently sufficient to disperse and drive them away, if 
 applied as soon as the saddle is pulled off; but when that will 
 not have the desired effept, the back may be washed twice a. day 
 in a mixture — of sharp vinegar, one gill ; spirits of any kind, one 
 gill ; sweet oil or fresh butter, one table-spoonful — to be well 
 mixed before used. As in most cases, the evil here is much 
 easier prevented by a little previous caution, than removed after 
 it has acquired existence. 
 
 Liniment for GaUs on Necks or Backs ofHorses. 
 One of the most effectual remedies that we have known, for 
 obstiiiate oases of galled necks and backs, is an application of 
 white-lead, nqoistened with milk. When milk i? not at hand, 
 Jinseed oil vyiH do^thatj is, common white-lead paint. If applied 
 in the early stages of the injury, the>cure will be certain; and 
 
 l^trqpg as our passions are, they may l^e starved into submissioa, 
 
era ; but it was afterward rejected, tintil the sixteenth 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOiMY. 599 
 
 ■we have found it so, after the failure of every other prescription 
 of which we had heard. Hence, when on a long journey^ it 
 would be prudent always to carry a Utile of it dry in a paper, to 
 be moistened when needed. A few ounces might be sufficient 
 for years. 
 
 Properties of Vegetable Composition. 
 
 A vegetable substance is always acid, whenever the oxygen 
 it contains is to the hydrogen in a, greater proportion than in 
 water ; it is always resinous, or oily, or spirituous, whenever it 
 contains oxygen in a smaller proportion to the hydrogen than 
 exists in water; and it is neither acid nor resinous, but is either 
 saccharine or mucilaginous, or analogous to woody fibre or stafch, 
 whenever the oxygen and hydrogen in it are in the same pro- 
 portions as in water. 
 
 The Composition of Bones. " 
 
 Nearly two-thirds of the weight of recent bones is earthy 
 matter, principally carbonate and phosphate of lime ; the other 
 third consists of a"peculiar animal substance called gelatine, some 
 oil or fat, and a variable quantity of moisture. For all practica- 
 ble purposes, in manuring land, the phosphate of lime may be 
 taken, on an average of fifty per cent,, or one half of fresh 
 bones. 
 
 How a Parmer May Become Rloh. 
 
 In a recent nurtiber of Littell's Living Age is a case illustra- 
 tive of this. It is not necessary to repeat the names occurnng 
 in the account. An English farmer, owning one thousand acres 
 of land and a small cash capital, was just able to live comforta- 
 bly. He had three daughters. On the raarnage of the fii^t, he 
 gave her 250 acres of his farm, and cultivated the rest. Soon, 
 the second was married, and he gave her 250 acres, leaving him 
 but 500 to be cultivated. However, he got along about as well 
 as before. Next, his third daughter was married, and took halt 
 of that ; so that he had but 250 acres remaining for a living. 
 At first he felt distressed for his gloomy piospMts. Yet be 
 doubled his diligence ; improved his mode of culture ; applied 
 all his capital to it; and, greatly to his surprise found that the 
 profits on these 250 acres were more than double received from 
 the entire 1000 acres. Every year they increased, and he^laid 
 up money, so that he had become a rich man, it wasfound, on 
 his death. 
 
 How to destroy the Effects of Prost. 
 
 The operation of watering before sunrise, in counteracting the 
 frost, seems to produce its eflfects in a manner similar to the ap- 
 
 Once in every ten yeats every rnan needs his neighbor^ 
 
are confined to a more narrow circle, yet within that circle 
 
 600 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 6b 
 
 J 
 
 plication of cold water to a frozen joint or limb, which is injured 
 by the sudderi application of warmth. This plan has long been 
 adopted by the London nurserymen, when their plants have been 
 affected by frost during the night, and is attended with the most 
 marked success. Vegetables of any sort may be recovered by 
 this application, and it should be attended to by the gardener, 
 both in the spring and autumn. 
 
 TTse of the Dandelion. 
 
 This is an excellent salad, and a good green. Where it grows 
 as a weed, cover it early in the spring, with Votten tan, or de- 
 cayed leaves ; it will Soon come up, and be well blanched, and 
 form a great addition to the stock of early spfing vegetables. It 
 will also force well all the winter, on a sKght hot-bed, or in a 
 warm cellar. 
 
 Ho-vT- to Remove Stumps. 
 
 The Maine Farmer recommends the following simple process, 
 for removing the stumps of tr6es : — Take a strong, stiff, hard- 
 wood stick of timber, say fifteen or twenty feet in tength and six 
 inches in diameter. Cut around the stump, and cut off some of 
 the roots. Then place the timber upi-ight against the stump, 
 and chain them together strong. From the upper end, which 
 is now in the air, let chains pass to the axlie of a paip of cart 
 wheels, to the tongue of which a pair of strong oxen is attached. 
 When all is ready, let the oxen start along, and the stump keels 
 over as readily as you capsize a cabbage in the garden. 
 Rapidity of Vegetation. 
 
 It has been stated by botanical writers that some of our for- 
 est trees, such as the oak and the walnut, perfect their growth 
 for the year, and form their terminal buds, in a few- hours or 
 days after they commence shooting. They have been known to 
 make shoots twelve or fourteen inches in length in forty-eight 
 hours, finishing their growth, and forming their winter buds in 
 that time. The terminal buds on some kinds of shrubbery, the 
 lilac, for instance, are on the main shoots, formed early in the 
 season. 
 
 Substitute for Ringing Swine. 
 
 To prevent swine from digging in the soil, the best method is 
 to cut the two tendons of their snouts with a sharp knife, about 
 an inch ahd a half from the nose. This may be done with little 
 pain, and no prejudice to the animal, when about three months 
 old. The common practice of restraining them by rings fixed 
 in the snout is painful and troublesome. They must be replaced 
 as often as they give way, and that happens so frequently that 
 rings aSori but little security against the nuisance. 
 
 Either say nothiDg of the absent, or else speak like a friend. 
 
resembles the traveler in the wilderness, -who discerns no objects 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 601 
 
 
 / Utility of Wasps and Hornets. 
 
 Reaumer states that the French butchers are glad to have 
 wasps about theh- stalls for the purpose of driving away the 
 blow-flies. In our own country, both wasps and hornets do 
 great service in destroying vast numbers of tormenting flies and 
 moths. 
 
 Important Fact in Agriculture. 
 
 Whatever may be the nature uf the soil, or of the crop culti- 
 vated, it should always be the aim of the farmer to grow full 
 crops. Partial and sometimes extensive failures will even then 
 but too often occur ; but to neglect making the best known prep- 
 arations, or only to prepare for half a crop, is an ill-judged 
 notion, and has a direct tendency to unprofitable farming. 
 
 Absorption of Rain. 
 
 It is believed that if soils were sufficiently deep and fertile, 
 nearly or quite all the water which falls would be needed, and 
 but little would run oflT in streams. Hence, streams are found 
 to diminish as population and improvement advances. It has 
 been found that fifty-five or fifty-six inches of water fall annu- 
 ally at Natchez;, and if forty-five inches be taken as the aver- 
 age for the whole Mississippi' Valley, which is evidently within 
 bounds, it will give an amount falling on the whole valley, ten 
 times greater than the water discharged at the mouth of the 
 river. 
 
 Cheap Crop of Sweet Potatoes. 
 
 The Southern Cultivator contains a statement of Aaron At- 
 kins, who raised three hundred and seven bushels of sweet 
 potatoes, excellent food for cows at the South, on an acre of 
 land, at a cost of about ten dollars, or about three cents per 
 bushel. The potatoes, cut thr-ee inches long, were dropped into 
 deep furrows three and a half feet apart, and a foot and a half 
 apart in the furrow. They were covered with a plough ; not 
 hilled, nor hoed, but repeatedly cultivated with a shovel-plough, 
 throwing the vines, when they became long, on one side, for one 
 furrow, and on the other side for the next furrow. A small 
 plough was used near the rows, and a larger one in the mid- 
 dle. They were ploughed up out of the ground when har- 
 vested. 
 
 How to Catch Hawks. 
 
 Erect a pole ten or twelve feet high, in a place where there 
 will not be anything else upon which they light Upon the top 
 of the pole set a fox or rat-trap, made fast. When the hawk ,s 
 taken, confine it to the ground near the pole, and set the trap 
 
 He that would be well spoken of himself, must not speak ill of others. 
 
and designiug men, he is a stranger to reliance and 
 
 -o 
 
 ^ 
 
 602 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 agaip. The mate of the captured hawt will soon appealr and be 
 taken likewise. So says one who has tried ; and it is said that 
 one or more Guinea-hens in a flock of fowls will effectnaHy pre- 
 vent the depredations of these destructive creatures. 
 
 Grain-Fields of the "West. 
 James Davis, of Waverly, Ross County, O., cultivates eighteen 
 hundred acres exclusively in Indian corn, and has this winter, 
 1850, a corii-crib filled, which is three miles long, ten feet high, 
 and six feet wide. We presume this is one of the largest corn- 
 fields in the world, owned by a single individual. On the Great 
 Miami Bottom, adjoining Lawrenceburgh, la., about twenty-five 
 miles below Cincinnati, there is one field seven miles long, by 
 three miles broad, extending, in fact, to Aurora, which has been 
 regulaily planted down to corn for nearly half a centuiy. Al- 
 though corn is one of the most exhausting crops, no manure is 
 ever used, and the soil is as fertile as ever. 'The Wabash Val- 
 ley is also remarkable' for the extent of its corn-fields.. We 
 should be glad to see the statistics of some of the corn-fields on 
 the Illinois prairies. 
 
 Directions for Raising Sweet Potatoes. 
 Make a bed of long manure, from eight to twelve inches thick, 
 surrounding it with a rough frame of boards. Put three or 
 four inches of mould over the manure ; split the potatoes and 
 lay them thick on the mould, and cover with four inches of 
 mould. As soon as the sprouts begin to come above the ground 
 draw them, laying one hand on the potato to keep it in its place. 
 The sprouts must be drawn as soon as they come up, as long as 
 the planting season refnains. They are to be set out in hills 
 after a rain, two sprouts in a hill, or in rows fourteen inches 
 apart. By commencing early, a, bushel of sweet potatoes will 
 plant an acre. This plan is decidedly preferable to ))lantingthe 
 potato itself. When niglits are cold, boards must be laid across 
 the bed. In making the bed, the manure may be omitted by 
 tliose who do not like' the trouble, but the sprouts will come 
 forward much later. The bed in dry weather must be frequent- 
 ly watered. 
 
 How to Preserve Manure. 
 If you cannot use all your manure, place it in heaps and cov- 
 er it with earth two feet iu thickness, which will inhale and re- 
 tain most of its enriching gases till wanted. Nevertheless, it is 
 better every year to put on your land all the manure you pos- 
 sibly can sctape together. Leave not a particle in your barn- 
 yard. All you can get from it hefoi'e , another season is clear 
 
 He that doth the kindness hath (be noblest pleasure of the two. 
 
of selfepjoyment there will be constant languor, tedious- 
 
 MISCEI.LANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 603 
 
 gain, for it will lose but little moie under ground with a crop 
 over it, thiin exposed to tjie action of tlie .sun and atmosphere. 
 
 To Save Oats in Peeing Horses. 
 Bruise or crush your Ocits in a mill, or otherwise as conve- 
 nient, and your horse will become fatter on half his usual allow- 
 ance of these oats than he was before on double the quantity 
 unprepared. If you cannot bruise the oats, pour hot water on 
 them, and let themjsoak for a few hours. 
 
 How to Make your Corn Last. 
 
 Instead of feeding corn in the grain to your horses, have it 
 first crushed, cob and corn together, then fed. By this process, 
 you will save fully twenty-five per cent, in feed, besides giving 
 it in a state to your horses calculated to impart nourishment, 
 without making an injurious demand upon the digestive powers 
 of the stomach. 
 
 Hovr to Fatten Turkies. 
 
 Experiments have been successfully tried of shutting up in a 
 small apartment made perfectly dark. They were fattened, it 
 is sp-id, in quarter the usual time. The reason assigned is, t,hat 
 they are thus kept still, and have nothing to attract their atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The Stra'w Manufacture. 
 
 It is said that the manufacture of straw hats has some years 
 in Massachusetts amounted to two millions of dollars, giving 
 employment to 100,000 persons, mostly females. In the coun- 
 ty of Norfolk, the profits of it have averaged $120 to each fam- 
 ily. All this was the product of labor, and mostly of persons 
 not unfrequently devoted to no productive occupation. With 
 such a population there must be thrift and plent,y. Let such 
 examples become general in rural life, and the effects will be 
 apparent to all around. 
 
 Successful Gardening. 
 
 The United States Farmer mentions the case of a German 
 who hired, in the neighborhood of New York, five acres of land 
 for seven years, at an annual rent of one hundred dollars. 
 When he began he had not money enough to pay for his horse 
 and cart ; and in the seven year^ he cleared three thousand 
 dollars from his garden. With the money he was able to pur- 
 chase a farm. 
 
 The Culture of Camomile. 
 
 A few roots of this plant should have a place in every garden. 
 Not only are its medical qualities highly valuable, but its pres- 
 
 He that ^oth a kindness to a goq4 man, doth a greater to himBelf. 
 
secrecy to be inviolable ; it supposes promises 
 
 604 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY, 
 
 cnoe anjong vegetables is supposed to be an ^gis of protec- 
 tion against many diseases to which they are subject. It should 
 be translated into warm and rich soil, early in the spring, and 
 be assisted, during its early development, by copious manuring 
 and frequent pressure. When plants, late in the season, exhibit, 
 symptoms of decay and general debility, the planting of a small 
 root of camomile in their vicinage is frequently the most speedy 
 and efficacious remedy that can be applied. The odor or aro- 
 ma dififused by this plant, is also known to be highly repellent 
 to many kinds of aligerous insects, and its presence among those 
 species of plants and vegetables infested by such enemies will 
 protect them more effectually than almost aiiy other agent 
 known, and at comparatively small expense. 
 
 Growth and Use of Mushrooms. 
 
 The mushroom has afforded a wide field of speculation iox 
 botanists and naturalists, who have disputed of its perfect char- 
 acter or otherwise, the peculiar rnetliod of its propagation and 
 growth, and its close assimilation in taste to animal matter. 
 The growth and formation of this humble plant are the most re- 
 markable of any in the whole vegetable kingdom. They can be 
 grown in cellars, sheds, stables, or any such building where they 
 will be protected. Where it is intended to cultivate them per- 
 manently, a covered shed will be found the most convenient 
 place to perform the necessary work. 
 
 Mushrooms are extensively used for making catsup (esteemed 
 as a pickle), and by some they are considered very delicious 
 when stewed with rich gravies. They are extensively cultivated 
 in Europe, particularly in Britain, where they are grown all the 
 year round. In our own country they have attracted consider- 
 able attention, and whole baskets-full have been " showed up" 
 before the Pennsylvania Hoiticullural Society in its Winter and 
 Spring exhibitions. 
 
 The genuine mushroom is fovind in autumn, in rich old pas- 
 tures — it has a small, round, brownish-white head, of a delicate 
 pink color underneath ; the stem is generally from two to three 
 inches high. There are frequent accounts of deaths caused by 
 this vegetable, attributable either to excess in eating or to a want 
 of care in selecting the pure article, which grows invariably in 
 open fields. Such as are overtopped by trees or growing in the 
 shade, must be avoided ; also those that grow rapidly five or six 
 inches high, bladder-like, or have a bright-red, finely-wrought 
 network underneath, and of a disagreeable scent — those possess- 
 ing such characters are bad, and' even poisonous. 
 Milk as an Article of Diet. 
 
 It is common to regard milk as little else than mere drink. 
 
 Show not the bottom of your purse, nor of your mind, to every person. 
 
his cause ; when misfortunes are clustering round him, 
 
 2 
 
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 c 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 605 
 
 a.. 
 
 But this is an error. Milk is really an article of solid food, be- 
 ing coagulated soon after reaching the stomach., New milk con- 
 tains 13 per cent, of digestible solids, and skimnoed milk 10 per 
 cent. ; that is, the former fully one-half, and the latter above a 
 third, of the nutriment contained in the lean part of beef and 
 mutton. 
 
 Ap Expensive, La'wsuit. 
 A few years ago a difficulty arose between two farmers of Ly- 
 coming County, in Pennsylvania, concerning a balance of twenty- 
 five dollars, due from one to the other, in the purchase of a 
 horse. On some account or other the purchaser of the horse 
 refused to pay this sum. Hence a suit was commenced for it. 
 It was kept a long time in court, because the jury were unable 
 to agree. At last, however, a verdict was rendered for the sum 
 demanded, with interest, amounting to $28 08 ; but the cost to 
 the parties amounted to between eight and ten hundred dollars, 
 which would have been saved, provided our advice for avoiding 
 litigation had been followed. 
 
 Wonders of Chemistry. 
 Aquafortis and the air we breathe are made of the same ma- 
 terials. Lineii and sugar, and spirits of wine,;ire so much alike 
 in their chemical compositions, that an old shirt can be converted 
 into its own- weight in sugar, and the sugar into spirits of wine. 
 Wine is made of two substances— one of which is the causeof 
 almost all combinations of burning, and the other will burn with 
 more rapidity than anything in nature. The famous Peruvian 
 bark, so much used to strengthen stomachs, and the poisonous 
 principles of opium, are formed of the same materials. 
 Profits of Mowing Land. 
 Mr. Jefferson Cutter, of West Cambridge, Mass., a few years 
 since, sold the grass standing on one and a half acre of land for 
 the sum of seventy dollars— a net income of more than $46 per 
 acre— when hay was no higher than the average price for the 
 thirty years previous. This forty-six dollars will pay the inter- 
 est of $750. The Massachusetts Ploughman truly says, there 
 are thousands of acres now lying unproductive, that might be 
 made to yield at least half as much. 
 
 Mildew on Gooseberries. 
 
 The Farmer's Gaaette states that the mildew is prevented by 
 
 sprinkKnff fine salt around the bushes ; or, where it can be had, 
 
 by placing seaweed around them. Watering with soap-suds, 
 
 before the fruit forms, and using compost for manure, is also 
 
 good. 
 
 He who keeps good men's company, maj well bear their charges. 
 
 Ot) 
 
it gives Bp myriads to slaughter in one part of the globe, it is 
 
 <& 
 
 St 
 
 606 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Stage for Cutting Grass. 
 
 A writer on the scientific principles involved in the process of 
 hay-making lays down the following rules: — 1. Grass must be 
 fully developed before it is mown ; if riot, it will be found in its 
 early stages to contain so much water as to be reduced, on dry- 
 ing, into so small a compass, thslt it will in quantity much dis- 
 appoint the haymaker. 2. It must not be periliitted to stand 
 until its seeds are formed, much less ripe. All plants, in arriving 
 at maturity, have their starch, and sugar, and gum, in large 
 quantities, converted into woody fibre — ^a wise provision of Prov- 
 idence for enabling the stem to bear the matured seeds ; and as 
 sugar, gum, and starch, are nutritive elements, it is desirable 
 that these should be preserved, and hence the point for success- 
 ful grass-cutting is that between the full development of the 
 plant and before the formation of their seeds ; in other words, 
 when they are in flower. , ; ' 
 
 The proper drying and storing of hay should be strictly at- 
 tended to. If it is put up with too much moisture in it, the fer- 
 mentation is so violent that the hay is greatly injured in quality, 
 and may be more or less consumed. But hay may be made too 
 dry ; for though a violent fermentation is to be avoided, a slight 
 one is considered necessary to the full development of the best 
 qualities of the grass ; as there is little doubt that it is the vinous 
 fermentation of the saccharine matter of |the hay which renders 
 it palatable to animals. 
 
 How to Multiply Fmit-Trees. 
 
 All kinds of fruit-trees put out a great many young sprouts 
 from limbs and roots, called Suckers. Take these, says the 
 Maine Farmer, cut the butt end into a wedge, take the root of 
 any other wood of the same siz^, split it, and run the sucker into 
 that split, and they will unite, and the root will support the 
 shoot till new roots can put out. Let it stand till it shall attain 
 the size desired, then transplant it. , 
 
 Growth of Cabbage. 
 
 The Maine Farmer recommends drawing together with straws 
 brstririg the leaves of cabbages that do not'head, and putting 
 them into the ground, roots up — then raising the soil over the 
 roots. liii the spring they will be solid heads. We have 
 adopted the suggestion With the best results. 
 
 Lice on Cattle. 
 
 It is easy to destroy lice on cattle by sifting into the hair of 
 the animal sand or fine dirt. Mr. Hardy, of Waltham, Mass., 
 .one of the most observing and successful farmers, says, cattle 
 
 He begins to grow biicl -who talce^ liimseU to be a good man. 
 
easy prey to eeducti'on, makes them victims of prejudices 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 607 
 
 that lie on the dirt ■will never be lousy — that those which lie on 
 plank floors are apt to breed vermin. 
 
 Rum and Bread. 
 It has been stated that the surn annually expended for bread 
 by the population of Great Britain and Ireland, amounts to 
 tweMy-five millions sterling ; while the money expended in the 
 United Kingdom in strong drink amounts to fifty millions annu- 
 ally. The consumption of gin alone, in tliese countries, auiounts 
 to more than twelve millions sterling every year. 
 
 Flavor of Turnips in Butter. 
 
 In conversing with a Scotch farmer, says the New York Cen- 
 tral Farmer, upon this subject, he stated that a small quantity 
 of saltpetre put in the cream just before churning, would entire- 
 ly prevent the taste of the turnip. This method, he said, was 
 practiced almost universally in Scotland, where turnips are raised 
 in great quantities. The suggestion has been adopted by others 
 with entire success, so that the butter is entirely free from the 
 flavor of the turnip, when the cows were eating each half a 
 bushel of turnips per day. 
 
 The Fruits of Litigation. 
 
 The PoughkcLpsie Eagle gives a few instances in which the 
 blessings of htigation had been fully developed. One of the 
 cases was decided at a cost of not less than $200, m which the 
 matter in dispute was twenty-five cents. A verdict of $400 was 
 given in a,nother case in the same court, because one man ac- 
 cused another of stealing a peck of potatoes. Another has been 
 in court four years, which is based upon a question whether or 
 not a man took a large file, worth four shillings^ when he paid 
 for a small one worth no more than two ! 
 
 Pulverized Charcoal for Manure. 
 
 In many places it would doubtless well pay if farmei's would 
 devote portions of their superfluous forests to charcoal for ma- 
 nure, grinding it in a bone or bark-mill. It absorbs ammonia 
 from the air and the muck heap, and. gives it out to plants. It 
 should always be mixed with stable and liquid manure. It 
 helps amazingly the shooting of transplanted trees and shrubs. 
 It gives unexampled vigor to wheat and corn. 
 Regular Exercise. 
 
 Exercise gives strength to every fibre, and energy to all the 
 vital powers? But exercise, like most practices and habits, may 
 be carried to excess. Extreme toil not only shortens hfe, but 
 brinc^s less to pass than steady bat moderate labor. It is not, 
 
 Knowing is worth nothing, unless we do the good we know. 
 
of disease, and the prolongation of life ; his success is in exact pro- 
 
 608 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 5; 
 
 therefore, often advisable for farmers to undertake to perform 
 what are called " great days' work ;" for one day of over-exer- 
 tion may cause weeks of debility, if not months, of sickness. 
 
 Set the Time and Keep it. 
 Keep it punctually ; don't vary a hair's breadth. Wheii you 
 say Monday, mean Monday. When you say Tuesday or Wed- 
 nesday, mean Tuesday or Wednesday. When you say six 
 o'clock, mean six o'clock. When you say twelve, mean twelve ; 
 not twelve and a half, but twelve. Time is precious, infinitely 
 precious ; gold cannot purchase it. Better rob your neighbor 
 of gold or pr€oious gems, than rob him of a moment. Set the 
 time and keep it. 
 
 Ho'TO' to Destroy Cateipillara on Trees. 
 Take a chafing-dish with lighted charcoal, and, after throwing 
 some pinches of brimstone in powder on the coals, hold it under 
 the branches that are loaded with caterpillars. The vapor of 
 thfr sulphur, which is mortal to these insects, ivill not only kill 
 all that are on the tree, but it will also prevent it from bei^g 
 infested with them afterward. A pound of sulphur will clear a 
 great extent of ground. Torches are apt to injure the trees. 
 Firing sand ,into the nests with a gun is a long process, and not 
 sure. 
 
 Cultivate Pie Plants. 
 This plant has recently become an object of culture in our 
 gardens. If more known, it would be more. cultivated ; for it is 
 easily produced ; has a very fine flavor ; and, what is most to 
 be thought of, may be had in the month of June, when apples 
 and other ingredients for pies are scarce. It is sometimes called 
 tart rhubarb. 
 
 Apples for Stock. 
 In this head a practical farmer in the Boston Cultivator says. 
 In 1843 I butchered a, hog sixteen months old, which weighed 
 five hundred pounds. For some weeks before bringing him to 
 the tub, he eat nothing bijit boiled apples. Corn meal was 
 offered him, but refused ; the pork was of the best quality, and 
 though the moon was not consulted in kiUing him, tlie " meat 
 ne'er shrunk a bit i' the pot," 
 
 Raising of Calves. 
 
 The best method of raising calves, we think, is to do so by 
 hand. If taken from the cow as soon as dropped, there will be 
 no difficulty in teaching it to eat. Loblolly, made of half a pint 
 of corn meal, and a pint of new milk, given it about thrice a day, 
 
 It is a proverb, that a fool never thinks higher than the top of his house. 
 
tlD 
 .S 
 6C 
 
 a 
 
 'a 
 
 Father, and teadigg to otie de stiny, denotes an enlargement of 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. gog 
 
 Will be sufficient to keep it. It is the easiest tiling imao-lnable 
 to each the calf to suck up its food : by simply pressing" down 
 Its head into the pan containing the mixture with one hand, and 
 inserting the fore-finger of the other into its mouth, it will instinc- 
 tively suck up Its beverage. If it be desirable to husband your 
 milk, you may begin to decrease the quantity which you add to 
 your loblolly when the calf is about three weeks old, puttino' in 
 less milk each day, until the calf imperceptibly forgets its taste 
 altogether. When the calf is six weeks old you may turn it out 
 m a lot of grass ; but, if you desire to push its growth, continue 
 Its loblolly twice a day; by doing so you will increase its size 
 fully one-thii'd. 
 
 Saltpetre Poisonous to Pigs. 
 It is well known that saltpetre has the valuable property of 
 rfemoving the taint of turnip taste frona butter ; and a small 
 quantity put into the churn with the cream renders the butter 
 sweet and pleasant. In one case, the butter from one cow was 
 made twice a week ; and to this quantity about a teaspoonful 
 of saltpetre was added, and the buttermilk given to the pigs. 
 It was observed that the pigs (about two months old), after 
 drinking the buttermilk, were very uncomfortable, and as little 
 notice was taken of the affair, they got over it as best they 
 might. However, it was not so on the next day of churning ; 
 for both pigs were taken violently ill, vomiting and purging'; 
 and when all hope of saving their lives was gone, they were nut 
 out of pain by killing. 
 
 Treatment of Fniit-Trees disposed to Canker. 
 Around all those trees which are manageable for size, and 
 free from disease, a trench is taken out at such distance from 
 the stem as may be judged by the branches sufficient to the 
 preserving all the radicals, so deep as to get them undermined, 
 and the soil carefully separated from the fibres, and thereby of 
 no avail to the tree. The pit being again prepared, and made 
 up to within nine or ten inches from the surface, fill with a layer 
 of well-decomposed dung, mixed with the soil of the border, and 
 next a layer of leaf soil, upon which the roots should be laid 
 out as in training the shoots upon a wall ; this being done, cover 
 with another layer of rotten leaves, and above another layer of 
 rotten dung, then water well, so as to fix the koil round the 
 roots ; when settled, finish with the soil from the border ; a 
 mulching of straw or dung in frosty weather will be requisite, 
 till the roots again take with the soil. The process of trans- 
 planting should be repeated as ttie appearance of the tree 
 would justify. I 
 
 Money 13 his servant who knows how to use it as he should. 
 39" '' 
 
 d5- 
 
minda of others : nor is it within the reach of our -will to 
 
 a 
 
 610 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 Value of Com-Cobs. 
 
 A writer in the American Agriculturist having read an arti- 
 cle in some paper recommending corn-cobs, ground or tlnground, 
 as an excellent and valuable feed for stock, undertook to test 
 the truth of the statement for himself. He bad a large quantity 
 on hand, and after providing himself with the proper vessel, (a 
 half-hogshead tub,) he filled it wifh cobs, and then added a so- 
 lution of salt in water. In this steep the cobs were suffered to 
 remain, till they had imbibed a sufficiency of the fluid to make 
 them soft. In this condition they were then fed out to the 
 stock, at the rate of half a peck to a full-grown cow or ox, 
 in the morning, and the same at night. He remarked- that all 
 his animals were extremely fond of the cobs ; that they con- 
 sumed a much less quantity of hay and grain than before he 
 commenced giving them this feed ; neither did they require salt 
 in its natural state. He has also ground several bushels of cobs, 
 and finds the meal an excellent article for making mush. 
 
 I have used, says he, corn and cob meal, ground fine, with 
 and without oats, for horses, the last twelve or fourteen years, 
 and I think it an excellent feed. It keeps a horse loose in his 
 bowels, his hair lies smooth, and it makes a great improvement 
 in his looks. I also use the meal with wheat or oat chaff, to 
 feed horses. When I first came to live in the neighborhood, I 
 was ridiculed by the neighbors, who said my horses would all 
 die before spring ; but when spring came, they were fatter and 
 in fai- better condition than theirs. I found that they took my 
 advice after this, and fed the same as myself, making a great 
 saving in feed. 
 
 Wedge and Beetle. 
 
 Farmers have said that the inclined surfaces of the wedge 
 should be concave ; as it is less liable to bounce in frosty timber 
 than one with plain surfaces ; and, that a ring beetle, with the 
 end less than five inches in diameter, is better than one of a 
 larger size. 
 
 Recipe for Fattening Hens. 
 
 The following is from the Maine Farmer: Shut up your 
 hens where there is no gravel. Keep corn by them all the 
 time, and also give them dough once a day. For drink give 
 them skim milk. With this feed they will fatten in ten days. 
 If kept over ten days they should have some gravel, or they will 
 fall away. 
 
 The Culture of Quinces. 
 
 The cultivation of quince-ti-e_ds may be greatly extended, par- 
 ticularly in the Western States. The fruit commands a high 
 
 Look not mournfully into the past ; we cannot bring it back or make it better. 
 
Wbun confederacies are ouce formed, it requires a pow- 
 
 ■3 
 •a 
 a 
 
 
 « 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. gn 
 
 price ; and the trees require Isut little space. In a teri-acre lot 
 nearly three hundred liiight be set around the fence without in- 
 terfering materially with the crops. 
 
 How to Propagate Quince-Trees. 
 These should be pruned but little ; should be watered with 
 strong soap-suds ; have ashes placed about them three times in 
 the course of the season. Those branches which grow near the 
 ground may be laid down and covered with earth five or six 
 inches deep, leaving six inches or a foot, or more, according to the 
 length of the limb. Thus nevr trees can be obtained, to be 
 taken up, and transplanted the following spring. 
 
 To Prevent Dogs from Sucking Eggs. 
 Take of emetic tartar, fiom four to eight grains, according to the 
 age and strength of the dog ; break the end of an egg, and put 
 in the tartar and mix it. If the dog io disposed to suck eggs 
 he will readily eat it ; confine him from water ; the next day 
 repeat the dose, which continue to do on each returning day 
 until he refuses it, which will probably be the third or fourth 
 day. It need not be apprehended that he will attempt to suck 
 eggs afterward. 
 
 Trees Selected for Shade. 
 Forest trees selected for shade should be of kinds not liable 
 to be attacked by worms and insects. The rock or sugar ma- 
 ple is always remarkably free from worms, and it makes^the 
 most dense and beautiful shade of all our deciduous trees This 
 is becoming a very popular tree, and we hope to see it exten- 
 vely propagated.' There is no more risk in transplanting this 
 than the elm, and the limbs are not liable to be broken by the 
 winds and snow. 
 
 Soil for Toung Trees. 
 We believe it is generally admitted that transplanted trees 
 succeed best when their early growth has been m sod sm>. ar to 
 that for which they are destined to be placed permanen ly. If 
 aised in such a so^l, and transplanted to t'^'-^' f '^?: '%*.'"" /'"'^ 
 po r'thej seem to 'receive a shock from - Jf -^J.f ^^ 
 thPv recover As a gentleman once remarked, it is like eedmg 
 -a cll wUh all Z nfilk he will take till he is six months old, 
 and thin suddenly turning him off to live on a short pasture. 
 Beaiing of Apple-Trees. 
 A horticulturist in Bohemia has a beautiful plantation of the 
 •2 V 1"?°f„f Se- rees which have neither sprung from seeds 
 t n" ;ing 'his pUm'is totak^shooUfromt^ 
 
 '^i^^^:^^::^:^:^^^:^^^^^ 
 
 our OTPD, 
 
 Or 
 
latter, and the latter needs the ^patronage of the former. Such dis- 
 
 612 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 insert them in a potato, and plunge them into the ground, leav- 
 ing but an inch or two of the sljoot above the sjivface. The 
 potato nourishes the shoot whilst it pushes out roots, apd the 
 shoot gradually springs up and becomes a beautiful tree, bear- 
 ing the best of fruit, without requiring to be grafted. 
 Grafting of Trees. 
 
 Scions for grafting should be cut before the buds begin to 
 swell, as they will not only keep longer, but they will succeed 
 better, than those cut later. When cut in fall, or early in winter, 
 they will keep in good condition later than those cut in March. 
 This shows the importance of cutting before vegetation com- 
 mences. If scions are cut after the buds begin to swell, it is 
 better to set them immediately, as they will be checked by de- 
 lay, which has an unfavorable effect. 
 
 To preserve scions, prepare a tight chest or box, moisten the 
 inside, and place in the bottom either moist sawdust, moss, loam, 
 or sand, or a moist cloth, or mat, to hold moisture, and keep 
 the scions cool. Lay in the scions,— the more the better, as 
 they preserve each other by their freshness or moisture. Cov- 
 er them with a moist cloth or mat, and renew the moisture oc- 
 casionally, as warm weather comes on. Place the box in a cool 
 part of the cellar ; if in a damp, dark part, the better. It is 
 much bettef to surround the sdohs with moisture than to apply 
 water directly to them. Some persons- destroy scions by too 
 much care in keeping them wet. When set on quite moist, or 
 rather wet earth, they absorb moisture to their injury. 
 
 Scions may be set, in this climate, from the latter part of 
 March to the last of June. Those set in June lyill make a 
 smaller growth. April and May are very favorable months for 
 this operation, and tlie greater part of grafting is done in April, 
 or the latter part of April and early in May. Stone fruit should 
 be grafted rather early, as the- scions do not keep so well as 
 other kinds, and the scions will not take so well after vegeta- 
 tion commences and the bark peels. 
 
 Grafting composition is now generally used instead of cjay, 
 as was formerly the practice. This composition is made with 
 one part of beef tallow, two parts of bee's- wax, and four parts of 
 rosin, melted together, and then turned into cold water, and 
 pulled and worked thoroughly, like shoemakers' wax. The ar- 
 ticles should be pure and of the best quality. 
 
 Sometimes mutton tallow or lard is mixed with beef tallow, 
 meal with bee's-wax, or the wax may be dirty and poor ; and 
 the greater part of, rosin sold in the interior is dark-colored and 
 inferior. Good rosin is of a light color, and almost transparent ; 
 and when the very best is used, the composition will bear fiv%, 
 
 The future may be full of shadows, but till realized, it is wise not to know iS. 
 
range, 5000' miles, the longest ranges in Africa are the mount- 
 
 !i 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. glS 
 
 parts. Grafting composition is generally for «ale at agricultu- 
 ral stores, and some may find it more convenient to purchase it 
 than to make it. ' ' ' 
 
 Transplanting Large Trees. 
 
 We find in the Utica Gazette, facts showing that it is not 
 necessary to select small trees for transplanting in order to in- 
 sure their growth. Large trees may be as successfully planted 
 as sirall ones. The mode and result of an experiment made by 
 Messrs. Pomeroy and Dutton, of Utica, are thus given: Those 
 gentlemen transplanted trees, compiising mjiples, elm, beech, 
 &c.i some thirty feet in height, which were transplanted wiili- 
 out being shorn of any of their branches. The process of re- 
 moval was as follows ; In the fall, before the frost, a trench was 
 dug around the trees selected, from ten to fifteen feet in diame- 
 ter, and the ,roots severed; In the winter when the ground had 
 become solid from freezing, the trees were pulled out by th&aid 
 of oxen and levers, with the mass of earth firmly attached to 
 the roots. They were then transported erect on a strong sledy 
 built for the purpose, and set out. 
 
 These trees grew, in open land, a mile and a half from the 
 •city. They put on their foliage last spring as if wliblly uncon- 
 scious that they were not still in their native soil, and the en- 
 terprising gentlemen who undertook this unusual course are re- 
 warded with shade trees which by the old practice it would 
 have required tw'enty years to produce. 
 
 Pruning Vinfes and Trees. 
 
 Summer pruning is sometimes necessary in order to give form 
 and proper direeiion to nursery trees, and standard trees may 
 need thinning in order to expose the fruit to light and air. 
 Grape-vines may need thinning, owing to a want of sufficient 
 priining in the spring or last fall. But in pruning trees thor- 
 iaughly, particularly if large limbs are to be cut off, it is best 
 to defer the business till the last of July, August, or the former 
 part of Septem'ber. 
 
 Late in summer and early in autumn, the bark does not peel 
 as it does.sai'ly in the summer, when it often starts from the 
 tree which is injured by going into trees and stepping on limbs 
 with hard shoes. The sap will ooze out of some trees early in 
 summer, which not only injures them generally, but it often 
 causes the wounded part to decay. 
 
 But in late pruning, the wood, when the branch is cut off, be- 
 comes sound and well seasoned ; and though it may not heal 
 over so readily as when cut early in summer or spring, it re- 
 mains in a healthy state. This is the main consideration. What 
 
 Economy is a sound understauding reduced to the pragtical purposes of life. 
 
that heaven was another of like dimensions, stretched out a 
 
 614 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 r 
 
 m 
 .2 
 
 I 
 
 would it avail a surgeon to heal a wound at the surface while it 
 was festering at, the bottom ? Late in sunimer and early in fall 
 is not only the most favorable season for the benefitof the trees, 
 but it is a convenient and pleasant season for the operation. 
 Cleaning the Bark of Fruit-Trees. 
 This operation should be performed in early spring as well as 
 in midsummer. The rough, loose parts of the bark should be 
 scraped off, as well as moss, and other parasites. The bark 
 should then be covered with the following mixture, as high as 
 the operator can reach, with an ordiaafy long-handled white- 
 wash brush: — 5 pounds whale oil soap, 1 pound fine salt, 1 
 pdund fine sand, 2 pounds potash, 2 ounces nitrate of soda, dis- 
 solved or mixed with water to the consistency of cream, ani 
 thoroughly rubbed upon the bark. 
 
 Watering ITe'wly-TranspIanted Trees. 
 
 In very dry Seasons, like the present — or as it was a few weeks 
 ago — it is often important to water newly-transplanted trees ; 
 but the common mode is very objectionable. When the water 
 is poured on the surface, the soil is apt to crack, and let the 
 moisture below escape through the openings, sd that its utility 
 may often be very doubtful. Latterly I have applied the water 
 differently. Dig a hole near the tree so as not to disturb its 
 roots, and pour in a pailful. Then draw in the loose earth till 
 the hole is filled, and covered up completely, so that. nothing 
 wei is visible ; and no cracks will -ever appear. A tree treated 
 in this manner will not need watering again for a weelj. 
 
 Office cf Leaves Illustrated. 
 During the last hot, dry weather, the leaves of one rose-bush 
 dried up, and I was apprehensive I should lose the plant— the 
 only one of the kind I had. The thought struck me that each 
 leaf was pumping out the moisture, and therefore I cut off every 
 one. The result was, the twigs ceased to wither, and the buds 
 are now swelling for a new start. Over deep, loose subsoils, 
 such disasters may rarely occur. Fearing it might not live, 
 however, I took the additional precaution to set buds from it. 
 
 Hints on Planting Fruit-Trees. ak 
 
 Be careful, in planting, to give the trees, a fair chance for life 
 and health, by digging the holes in which they are set wide and 
 deep, so that tliey may be surrounded by loose earth, that can' 
 be easily penetrated by -the tender fibres of the roots which are 
 to convey nourishment for their sustenance and growth. A tree 
 properly planted will grow as much in five years as one care- 
 lessly and badly set will in ten years ; and often the chance of 
 
 He who is about to epeak ill of another, let him first consider himself. 
 
'So 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 to 
 
 3 
 
 disciples became the victims of persecution. Many oflthem 
 
 .MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 615 
 
 survivorship is dependent on slight circumstances. An excel- 
 lent plan for preventing young fruit-trees from becoming hide- 
 bound and mossy, and for promoting their liea.lth and growth, is 
 to take a bucket of soft soap, and to apply it with a brush'to 
 the stem or trunk, from top to bottom ; this cleanses the bark, 
 and destroys the worms or the eggs of insects ; and the soap, 
 becoming dissolved by rains, descends to the roots, and causes 
 the tree to grow vigorously. 
 
 A Remedy for the Peach 'Worm. 
 
 A correspondent of the Philadelphia Evening Post says — A 
 mixture of one ounce of saltpetre and seven ounces of salt, ap- 
 plied to the surface of the ground, in contact and around the 
 tnjnk of a peach-tree, seven years old and upward, will destroy 
 the worm, prevent the yellows, and add much to the product 
 and quality of the fruit. He also sows the orchard with the 
 same mixture, at the rate of two bushels to the acre. 
 Direction for Peach-Trees. 
 
 The health and vigor of peach-trees may be promoted by the 
 following simple process : — Place about the trunk of each half a 
 bushel — no matter if more — of good marl. It will sometimes 
 save the tree from the attack of worms, and will invariably in- 
 crease its growth, and improve the quality and quantity of the 
 fruit. 
 
 Good Effects of Plaster on Fruit-Trees. 
 
 It is stated in the Watertown Herald, that a Mr. Mussey freely 
 sprinkled plaster on an apple-tree wiiile in blossom. This he 
 did by climbing among the branches. The consequence was, 
 that he obtained twenty bushels in the fall, although it had 
 never before produced over two bushels in one year. 
 To Improve Pear-Trees and their Fruit. 
 
 When pear-trees are planted in a clay soil, mix sand and lime 
 together at the rate of onfe of the former and two of the latter, 
 and apply a bushel or more to ei'.ch tree. Sea sand, found' 
 mixed with shell-fish, is admirable for this purpose, and it may 
 be presumed that shell marl would be equally good. ' 
 
 When are Peach-Trees to be Pruned ? 
 The most suitable time for pruning the peach, as well as most 
 other"^kinds of stone fruit, is in autumn, just as the leaves begin 
 to fall, when the sap is in a downward motion. At this peiiod, 
 a more perfect cicatrization takes place, than when the trees are 
 pruned in winter or spring. 
 
 On Planting Walnut-Trees. 
 All know the value of timber as well as the nuts from these 
 
 A woman sitting at a window is like a bunch of grapes in the highway. 
 
lofty plain on which Bogota ia situated, 9000 feet above 
 
 616 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 trees. An English writer says ten dollars will plant an acre. 
 He calculates one hundred and sixty trees to the acre. These 
 trees, when grown to full size, will be worth from two to 
 five dollars each. If they do not become thus valuable to the 
 person who plants them, they will piove a better investment to 
 his children than bank stock, especially if "he have a plenty of 
 land. The nuts may be sown in nursery beds, and when of 
 suitable size, be transplanted like other trees. 
 
 HoTw to Cure 'WoundB in Trees. 
 
 Take two equal parts of fresh cow-dung, one of wood ashes, 
 one of lime or old lime rubbisll, and a little sand, and mix the 
 whole together with a spade till they become of the consistence 
 of fresh mortar or plaster used for the ceiling of rooms. With 
 this mixture fill up the wounds in trees, and they will bftcome 
 sound again. Perhaps it might be well to bind a piece of old 
 cloth around the injured part. Cow-dung alone sometimes 
 will do. 
 
 On iPlanting Chestnut-Trees. 
 
 The rapid growth of the chestnut, the excellence of its timber, 
 and its fine ornamental appearance, render it a desirable object 
 of cultivation. The fruit which it produces, too, is not the least 
 consideration. If you attempt to do it, take the seeds or nuts 
 fresh from the outw^ard shells, before having been dried by the 
 sun or atmosphere. Otherwise they will not germinate. Plant 
 thera in good loam not more than one inch and a half in depth, 
 and where the mice will not find them, or your plants the next 
 season will not appear. Do this, and in ten or a dozen years 
 you will have shades about your house, or groves of the most 
 beautiful trees that grow. And in twenty or twenty-five years 
 large trees worth twenty times the actual cost of producing 
 thera. 
 
 Ho'w to Restore an Old Orchard. 
 
 It has been recently stated) on good authority, that an old 
 orchard of five acres, having been worthless for thirty years, had 
 been so restored by ploughing and maniire, as to produce, in 
 three years afterward, annually about three hundred bushels at 
 a crop. 
 
 Wash for Fruit-Trees. 4B 
 
 Take equal parts, by measure, of ground plaster.of Paris, soft 
 soap, and green cow-dung; dilute them with water to the con- 
 sistency of common whitewash ; and apply the mixture to the 
 trunks and large branches of the trees with a mop or brush. 
 This will not only have a tendency to destroy or ward off insects, 
 but render the trees more healthy and fruitful. 
 
 I Pure air is one of the most important remedial agents in all diseases. 
 
elime, ■nhich renders the vales of rivers the most fertile 
 
 ■a 
 a 
 3 
 
 SI 
 
 to 
 
 
 MlSdELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 617 
 
 Economy in Sleeping. 
 
 It is difficult to determine how long a person should sleep, 
 as different persons diflfor constitutionnily, some requijing more 
 sleep tlian others. But one thing is certain, that some boys sleep 
 fiir more than is necessary, lying in bed eight or nine hours, 
 when seven would be sufficient. Some lie so long that they be- 
 come fatigued or tired with inaction. 
 
 If a boy sleep an hour too much each day, he will lose four- 
 teen or fifteen days in a year, which will amount in ten years to 
 nearly half a year : in fifty years to more than two years. This 
 is an important subject. Life is short, an4 we have a great 
 deal to do in this brief period. How absurd, then, to waste in 
 indolence, in a dormant, senseless state, so large a portion of 
 precious time, which can never be recalled ! 
 
 If a person would excel in any pursuit, either in business or 
 study, he must husband his time, and sleep no more than is ne- 
 cessary for refi-eshment. The object of sleep is to give rest to 
 tlie body and mind, and fit them for renewed and vigorous ac- 
 tion ; and he who sleeps merely to kill time or waste it, that it 
 may not hang heavy on his hands, is indulging in a habit that 
 will become so fixed, after a while, that it will give character to 
 the whole boy and future man. 
 
 Let every boy consider whether he is wasting in bed the 
 most precious hours of his life, and make an estimate on the 
 loss. Let him calculate how much he might earn, or what use- 
 ful branches of, study he might pursue, in tlie time now wasted 
 in Tileep, in a state of oblivion. Thousands of persons who 
 shudder at the terrible thought suggested by the doctrine of 
 annihilation, practice every day upon that very principle at 
 which the soul recoils with horror. 
 
 A Substitute for 'White Oil Paint. 
 
 Four quarts of skim milk ; one pound of fresh-slacked lime ; 
 twelve ounces of linseed oil; four ounces of white Burgundy 
 pitch ; six pounds of Spanish white ; to be mixed as follows : 
 The lime to be slacked in water, exposed to the air, mixed m 
 about one-fourth of the milk; the oil, in which the pitch is to 
 have been previously dissolved, to be added a little at a time ; 
 then the rest of the milk, and afterward the Spanish white. 
 This quantity is sufficient for more than fifty square yards with 
 
 two coats. 
 
 How to Take Smell from Fresh Paint. 
 
 Let tubs of water be placed in the room newly painted near 
 the wainscot, and an ou-- ^l vitriolic acid put into the water; 
 and in a few days, this water will absorb and retain the effluvia 
 
 
 Many eminent virtues, like prairie flowers, are unknown to the world. 
 
are enty-ely composed of tbeni. They are found remote 
 
 618 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 from the paint, but the water should Ije renewed with a fresh 
 supply once or twice. 
 
 A Cheap aud Durable Cement. 
 A most valuable and durable cement for the outside covering 
 of wood buildings and fences may be obtained by mixing two 
 parts of sifted wood ashes, one of fine sand, and three of clay ; 
 these being again mixed with oil, and applied to the surface of 
 the wood, is said to be capable of resisting the inclemency of 
 the weather even better than marble itself. 
 
 Black Paint made from Potatoea, 
 The American Mechanic says, on the authority of an old 
 painter, that potatoes being bilked moderately at first in a close 
 vessel from which air is excluded, and exposed to increased heat 
 until they are completely charred through, they may be ground 
 in oil, and thus produce a beautiful black, superior in many re- 
 spects to ^ny other black in use. 
 
 Substitute for WTiite-Lead. 
 Take one bushel of unslacked lime, and slack it with cold wa- 
 ter. When slacked, add twenty pounds of Spanish whiting, 
 seventeen pounds of salt, and twelve pounds of sugar. Strain 
 this naixture through a wire sieve, and it will be fit for use, after 
 reducing it with water. This is intended for the outside of 
 biiildings, or where it is exposed to the weather. Two coats 
 should be laid on wood, and three on brjck. A whitewash 
 brush may be used for laying it on, and each coat must be dried 
 before the next is applied. This may be made of any color you 
 please. For straw color, instead of the whiting use yellow 
 ochre ; for lemon color, ochre, and chrome yellow ; for lead, or 
 slate color, lampblack; for' blue, indigo; for green, chrome 
 green. 
 
 The Beat Seaaon for Fainting Houses. 
 Paint applied to the exterior of buildings late in autumn or 
 winter will endure twice as long as when applied early in sum- 
 mer, in hot weather. In the former case it dries slowly and be- 
 comes very hard, like a glazed surface, not easily affected after- 
 ward by weather, or worn off by the beating of storms. But in 
 very hot weather, the oil of the paint soaks into the Tyood at 
 once, as into a sponge, leaving the lead nearly dry and ready to 
 crumble off. 
 
 Hew to Measure Hay in the Mo'vr or Stack. 
 A correspondent of the Cultivaiot gi»JS the following recipe 
 for doing it r Multiply the length, breadth, and height into each 
 
 It is not uDUSual that persons practice what they censure in others. 
 
5. 
 
 rified fruits have been discovered at heights at which they 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 6)9 
 
 Other; and if the hay is well settled, it will ttike from eleven to 
 twelve solid or cubic yards of clover to inuke a ton, and ten 
 yards of timothy or other fine grasses to make a ton. He says 
 he has bought and sold hay in this way ; and where there are 
 no conveniences for weighing, this I'ule will be found so near 
 correct that farmers may adopt it with safety. 
 
 Experiment in Pork Making. 
 
 A correspondent in the Genesee Farmer states that he made 
 ejcperiraents in fattening hogs with Indian corn and barley, by 
 which the hogs gained one pound, live weight, for every four 
 and a half pounds of grain eaten. Tiie foo'd was cooked by 
 boiling from six to twelve hours. The corn was boiled whole, 
 but the barley was first ground. He thinks grinding is of no 
 benefit, provided the grain i.s cooked enough. 
 The Value of Readiug. 
 
 A Chilicothe paper says — We know a man who engaged his 
 wheat, six hundred bushels, at one dollar twelve and a half cents 
 per bushel. His neighbor, who had the same quantity, engaged 
 his a few days afterward, at one dollar per busliel, getting for 
 the amount seventy-five dollars less. The former took news- 
 papers and read the agricultural intelligence ; the latter did not, 
 and lost thereby at this time enough to pay for a paper his 
 whole lifetime. 
 
 History and Use of Lettuce. 
 
 The lettuce is so named from the Latin word lac, on account 
 of the milky juice yielded by it in abundance. Lettuce is con- 
 sidered very healthy, especially in the spring — there are some 
 of the family natives of all the warm and temperate latitudes of 
 the globe. The leading cabbaging kinds were originally inti'o- 
 duced from Egypt ; those of upright growth, from the Island of 
 Cos — hence the name of Cos Lettuce applied to all the sorts 
 that approach that character. . . . Some of tlie varieties of the 
 plant have been extensively cultivated for opium preparations. 
 The plant is allowed to shoot up, for such purpo.,es, until just 
 on the eve of flowenng, when the top is cut off, in the after- 
 noon. In tliirty-six hours, a brown crust is found on the 
 wounded part of the stem, which is carefully collected. The 
 stem is agaiu cut, and repeatedly, till the plant ceases to yield 
 its milkv substance. . . . Lettuce is undoubtedly the best of 
 the salading vegetables ; many varieties are cultivated in Eu- 
 rope, and not a few in this country, but several kinds grown 
 there are not adapted to our high and dry temperatures. . . . 
 Fetticus, or Lambs' Lettuce, is a native of Europe, and cultiva- 
 ted as' a spring salad, but in France they frequently dress it 
 
 03 
 
 If a man could have all his wishes, he would double his troubles. 
 
The large leaves are used in roofing wigwams and cottages. The leaves 
 
 620 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 like spinach. It is so termed from its having been in repute as 
 an early feed for lambs. 
 
 Manuring "Wlieat. 
 
 Of manures for wheat, it is ordinarily best that they sliould 
 be given with the preceding crop. (Jreen or coarse manures 
 from the stables, applied directly to wheat, are universally 
 deemed objectionable. The effects of lime on the soil may be 
 considered as threefold: first, in dividing a tenacious soil, and 
 rendering it friable ; second, in preparing the vegetable matter 
 in the soil for the nutrition of tlie plant ; and, in the third place, 
 some portion of it may be taken up with advantage by the 
 plant itself. The principle of potassium in the soil, in the form of 
 common wood ashes or otherwise, seems always highly beneficial, 
 and almost indispensable. Liquid manure, urine diluted with 
 water, is sometimes applied to the growing crop with great ad- 
 vantage. I have known also the water in which flax has been 
 rotted applied with remarkable success.^— CoZwaw. 
 Soaking Corn in Saltpetre. 
 
 I had the benefit of soaking corn in saltpetre, to plant, well 
 tested this year, on a small ' piece of ground, planted late. I 
 had not enough soaked to plant all the piece. Where it was 
 not soaked, the black-birds pulled out about one-third ; where it 
 was soaked, they seldom touched a hill. But what was most 
 peculiai', there happened to be one row planted with dry corn, 
 between two rows that were soaked ; of the dry, they took sev- 
 eral hills clean, and altogether, about one-third of the row ; 
 wliile they did not take more than one hill of the two saltpetre 
 rows. 
 
 Chimney Soot as Manure, 
 
 This article is said to be an excellent manure, if properly 
 applied. It is generally mixed up with earth and dung as a 
 compost; in this state it is worth little or nothing; bat when 
 properly applied, by being kept dry, and sown on young wheat, 
 clover, or vetches, in March or April, its effects are most extra- 
 ordinary ; in a few days the yellow, sickly plants will assume a 
 dark green, which is as inuch a test of health in plants as the 
 rosy cheeks of a dairy-maid. The fact is, plants receive nearly 
 as much nourishment from the air as the roots; and as the soot 
 is throwing off abundance of gases, which are imbibed through' 
 the pores of the leaves, it gives a healthful vigor to the plant, 
 and enables it to throw forth its roots to supply nourishment 
 during the stages of blossoming and perfecting the seed. 
 To Kill VThite and Yellow Daisies. 
 
 The prevalence of these worthless plants, says the Boston 
 
 The beat furniture in a house is a virtuous, sensible, and industrious woman 
 
of foi-ty or fift/ feet. The fruit is as large as a child's head, 
 
 :S 
 
 o 
 a. 
 a 
 3 
 
 CS 
 
 MISCELLANIES IIS RURAL ECONOMY. 621 
 
 Cultivator, indicates a stale of liide-bound poverty ; take tlie 
 land into* cultivation, manure highly and cultivate thoroughly 
 for a few years, when useful plants will be found to have usurp- 
 ed their place, and to their exclusion. Two crops of corn in 
 succession have been found sufficient for the purpose. 
 
 Palsnips for Fattening Pigs. 
 A correspondent of the London Agricultural Gazette says : 
 My pigs are fed once a day with wash from tlie liouse, and three 
 times a day with parsnips, as they were drawn from the earth, 
 neither washed, cooked, nor cut. I calculate that the produce 
 from two and a half j-ods is quite sufiicient to fatten one pig. 
 The last animal I killed weighed 341 pounds, and was between 
 nine and ten months old. The poik was declared by all to be 
 excellent, very tender and delicate. 
 
 Anecdote of a Nut. 
 
 Mr. Waterson, in his Essays, says there is a remarkable state- 
 ment of a nUt deposited for winter, by some nut-eating animal, 
 under an old millstone which lay in a field, springing up through 
 the central aperture. To give it a fair chance of success, a 
 wooden paling was placed around it. Year after year it in- 
 creased in size and beauty ; and when its expansion had entirely 
 filled the hole in the centre of the millstone, it gradually began 
 to raise up the entire stone from the seat of its long repose. 
 When the statement was made, the stone was about eight inches 
 from the ground, being wholly supported by the stem of the nut- 
 tree, which had risen to the height of twenty-five feet, bearing 
 excellent fruit. 
 
 Ashes from Anthracite Coal. 
 
 A correspondent of the New York Agriculturist gave a very 
 interesting account of the use of coal ashes as a manure for 
 corn. Experiments have also been made on grass hmds, at the 
 rate of fifty bushels to the acre, with most beneficial results. It 
 is stated that the entire crop was doubled, although the season 
 was one of severe drought. Whenever this article is to be used 
 on grass lands, the cinders should be screened from them, so as 
 not to interfere with the edge of the scythe in mowing. It is 
 thought that ten bushels of these ashes are as good as a load of 
 street manure. 
 
 Rats and Mice. 
 
 The best way of banishing rats and mice from mows or bins 
 of grain, and all similar places, we have heard of, is scattering 
 the branches of common spearmint about in the mows, when 
 
 L 
 
 The example of good men 13 practical philosophy understood by all. 
 
In the deserts of Africa they sometimes draw up the sand into a 
 
 622 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 6") 
 
 
 packing away grain, or strawing over the bins of grain, or any- 
 thing else exposed to their depredations. Those who have tried 
 it, have found it effectual. . 
 
 Benefits Derived from Toads. ' 
 
 A correspondent of Loudon's Magazine says, few gardeners 
 are aware of the great good which results from these unsightly 
 but useful animals, in a garden. Theif natural food consists en- 
 tirely of slugs, worms, snails, flies, ^nd, in short, of all those ver- 
 min which the gardener is most anxious to get rid of ; and yet, 
 how many are there who ignorantly or wantonly destroy them ! 
 I tell every gardener who comes to me, that my toads are my 
 best friends ! 
 
 A Hemedy for Mildevr in Grapes. 
 
 Take a pint and a half of sulphur and a lump of the best un- 
 slacked lime, of the size of the first ; put these in a vessel of about 
 seven gallons measurement ; let the sulphur be thrown in first, 
 and tlie lime over it ; then pour in a pail of boiling 'water, stir 
 it well, and let it stand half an hour ; then fill the vessel with 
 cold water, and after stirring well again, allow the whole to set- 
 tle — ^after it has become settled, dip out the clear liquid into a 
 barrel, and fill the barrel with cold water, and it is then fit 
 for use. 
 
 You next proceed with a syringe holding about a pint and a 
 half, and throw the liquid with it on the vines in every direction, 
 so as completely to cover the foliage, fruit, and wood. This 
 should be done, especially when the fruit is just forming and 
 about one-third the size of a pea, and may be continued twice 
 or thrice a week for two or three weeks. The whole process for 
 one or two hundred grape-vines need not exceed half an hour. 
 
 In order to test fully the above, the process has been pursued, 
 in some cases, with only half of a vine, and omitted on the other 
 half. The result was, perfect fruit on the former, and absolute 
 failure upon the latter. Some persons use sulphur in a dry 
 state, which is thrown on with bellows suitable for the purpose, 
 but the liquid preparation is found far superior. 
 
 To Make Hens Lay Perpetually. 
 Giv6 yoiir hens half an ounce of fresh meat, chopped fine, 
 once a day, while the ground is frozen, and they cannot' get 
 worms or insects; allow*o cocks to run with them, and they 
 will lay without cessation. Try it. They also require plenty 
 of grain, water, gravel, and lime. 
 
 How to Destroy Ants. 
 It so happened that a piece of camphor was laid in a drawer 
 
 In prosperity we need moderation,^ in adversity p.itience. 
 
contains. Also, a picture, exhibiiing the form of a 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 623 
 
 CQtitoining sugar/ and which was sadly infested by ants. On 
 opening it, a few days afterward, the bottom of the drawer was 
 literally strewn with dead ants. The experiment was repeated 
 with success — a small piece of camphor placed in the corner of 
 the drawer being quite sufficient. Camphor dissolved in alcohol, 
 and diluted with water, might destroy them, if sprinkled on 
 trees or walls, or if poured into their nests. 
 
 Prescription for Killing Rata. 
 
 A gentleman of St. Joseph, Michigan, says— I can give you 
 a remedy for killing rats, th:it I know, from experience, to be 
 effective. Mix some unslacked lime with corn-meal, and place 
 it where the rats may accidentally find it. They will soon be- 
 come very thirsty, and, upon drinking water, the lime slacks and 
 swells the rat till it kills him. In the Bahama Isles, sponge is 
 fried and placed in their; way ; they eat it, diink, swell, burst, 
 and die. Lime and meal should be, of the first one part, and 
 meal two parts, well mixed together. 
 
 Why a Poor Man should Have a Garden. 
 
 Because the Almighty, in placing Adam in one, showed that 
 it was the most desirable place for enjoyment a man can have 
 Hence, in all ages the garden has been an object of desire with 
 kino-s and philosophers. No other sort of abode seems to con- 
 tribute so much to the tranquillity of mind and rest of body. 
 The sweetness of the air, the pleasantness of the sme 1, the ver- 
 dure of the plants, the exercise of working and walking; but 
 above all, the exemption from care, seems equally to favor and 
 improve both contemplation and health enjoyment of sense and 
 imacrination, and thereby the quiet and ease of both body and 
 mind. A poor man may not aflbrd having a costly house, rich 
 furniture, or an expensive carriage, but he can afford to have a 
 garden, because its productions for family use are worth more 
 than the cost of cultivating it. 
 
 Direction for Curing the Wounds of Cattle. 
 
 The most severe wounds of domestic animals may generally 
 be cured by the use of the yolk of an egg nrnj^ed and beat with 
 spirits of turpentine. The part injured must be baUied repeat- 
 edly with the mixture. Ordinarily, a cure will be effected in the 
 space of forty-eiglit hours. 
 
 To Cure Diseased Chickens. 
 
 A disease in chickens called tU gapes is often very destruc- 
 r V,nt it mxv be prevented ; and, if not too far advanced, 
 ^;Vbcuedb'y a slight mixture in their food of asaf<Bt,da. 
 Four ounces, dissolved in water, and mixedon ce a day m their 
 
 .a 
 
 
 a 
 
 "^T^^m Imve no judge but himself, virtually condemns himself.- 
 
is said to be able to cure diseases ; or a fluid supposed 
 
 624 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 S 
 ^ 
 
 food, is enough for four hundred chickens. The article is cheap, 
 and this quantity may be had for a mere trifle. 
 
 The Use of Tar for Sheep. 
 
 A gentleman engaged in'the sheep culture, is accustomed, in 
 the season of grazing, to furnisl) his flocks with tar, at the rate 
 of a gill per day for every twenty sheep. This, he says, pre- 
 serves them from worms m the head, promotes their general 
 health, and is supposed to be an antidote for the rot. The tar 
 is put into a trough, with a little salt sprinkled over it, which 
 soon attracts their notice, and is speedily consumed by them. 
 
 'Warm Shelter for Farm Animals. 
 If our farmers were in the habit of providing warm and com- 
 fortable shelters for their dumb beasts, it is believed they would 
 find it a matter of economy, were humanity to be put out of the 
 question. It is generally supposed that human beings, well 
 clothed and sheltered, can live on a less amount of food than is 
 necessary if they are not well clothed and sheltered. And it is 
 known that exposure to the weather and cold is far from 
 being conducive to health. Why may it not be so with farm 
 animals ? 
 
 HoTw to Promote the Health of Farm Animals. 
 The editor of the Agriculturist says — All domestic animals 
 should be abundantly furnished with salt. A supply kept with- 
 in their reach, whenever it can be done, is recommended. Their 
 comfort, thrift, and health, is essentially dependent on this. 
 Horses and pigs should occasionally have ashes given them in 
 their food, in addition ; and the latter ought at all times, when 
 confined in pens, to be supplied with charcoal, as, besides being 
 a medicine, it is a cheap and valuable food. Lime, or chalk, 
 which is another form of lime, may, with great advantage, be 
 given to horses and cattle, or placed within their reach, so that 
 they can use it as nature dictates. Clay is frequently sought.for 
 by horses, and eaten with avidity, and, it is believed, with decided 
 benefit to their health. 
 
 How to Kill Worms. 
 
 To six quarts of water, add half a pound of caustic lime, and 
 |> after letting it stand a few minutes, commence watering the 
 !^ ' ground infested by worms, and they will soon be seen rising to 
 "o the surface, writhing about, and will die in a few minutes, espe- 
 •1 cially if a httle more of the lime-water is sprinkled upon them. 
 
 ^ How much Land should be Cultivated. 
 
 I Plough up no more land than you have sufficient manure for, 
 
 Learning is folly, unless good judgment have the management of it. 
 
3 
 I 
 
 •a 
 bo 
 
 Q 
 « 
 
 ■s 
 
 r 
 
 ■tS 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 j;e«pects jhe building, arming, e quipping, navigating, and fighting 
 
 lUISCELLANIES IN RURAL. ECONOMY. 
 
 625 
 
 fi"1,T P^'P^""^, for planting in season. Farmers seem to think 
 then farms are hardly large enough to turn round u 
 
 unless 
 
 r ,1 . ■ V "•■gc ciiuugri [o turn rouna upon 
 
 I thPv f""''*'\^u °"' ^"""^'^^ '° fi^« *'""'''-«d acres, and this 
 hey f.equently have scattered around in various places, so that 
 
 friv,^ f '"'".^ '"^« ^« "J»<^h time in going from field to field and 
 from lot to lot, as would be required to keep teii acres under 
 good cultivation. 
 
 How to PSroteot Hens from Vermin. 
 
 The Southern Planter, says a correspondent of that iournal, 
 has driven vermin from his hens in the following manner • He 
 weaves pennyroyal into the material which composes their nests • 
 or If he can, makes the entire nest of this strong-scented herb' 
 and the vermm will immediately disappear. 
 
 Chloride of Iiime for Steeping Seeds. 
 In Germany this is considered of great efficacy. It is said 
 that beans steeped in a solution of it four hours, the solution 
 being one quarter of an ounce to a gallon of water, will come 
 up and have their rough leaf before others sown at the same 
 time will rise above the surface of the ground. The effect is the 
 same on other seeds. 
 
 How Plants Beoeive their Carbon. 
 Carbonic acid gas is taken up by plants in two ways. The 
 leaves, and, indeed, all thei green parts, absorb it directly from 
 the atmosphere ; and it is absorbed also by the roots dissolved 
 in the rain and dew which have refreshed the ground. 
 
 How to Kill Crows. 
 Steep a quantity of corn in arsenic, and place it in different 
 parts of the planted field. Crows and black-birds will eat it 
 with avidity, which soon causes their death. And it might be 
 supposed that a piece of fresh meat impregnated with arsenic 
 and suspended on a pole would destroy hawks. 
 
 What is Good Farming? 
 
 The best and most pithy answer we ever heard to this in- 
 quiry was given by a Mr. Kane at an agricultural meeting in 
 Dorsetshire, England. He said, he fed his land before it was 
 hungry ; rested it before it was weary ; and weeded it before it 
 was foul. 
 
 How should Cattle- Yards be Improved? 
 
 Let portions of them, at least, always be kept dry and com- 
 fortable, so that when it thaws or rains the animals will not be 
 obliged to stand or lie in the mud. They should be well litter- 
 edt In addition to their comfort, and of course to their thrift. 
 
 B 
 
 n 
 
 Make yourself all honey, and the flies will eat you up. 
 40 
 
■which retaiu their leaves are called evergreens ; but such as cast 
 
 at 
 
 626 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 litter adds largely to the stock of manure. ^No one need give 
 as a reason for neglecting it, that he has no Utter. Enough of 
 something or other may be found. 
 
 Deep Ploughing. 
 
 In drought, how are plants supplied with water? After a 
 shower, the soil may be wet enough for a time ; but when the 
 sun and the, winds dry the surface, the moisture rises up from 
 below by capillary attraction, as the melted tallow rises through 
 the wick of a candle to supply the deficfenoy above. It is 
 from this circumstance that our crops over deep beds of sand 
 suffer less in dry weather than where the subsoil is hard and im- 
 permeable, showing the benefit of deep and thorough ploughing. 
 In either case, however, as the supply begiris to fail, and the 
 soil grows drier, its finest* parts absorb moisture from the air; 
 and the plants are constantly nourished by this invisible foun- 
 taip. --:-!' 
 
 To Relieve Choking. 
 
 The following method of relieving neat-cattle when choiked'-' 
 by a turnip or potato has been tried, and found successful in 
 every instance. Pour into the throat of the animal, from a junk 
 bottle, a pint or so of lamp or sweet oil, at the same time rub- 
 bing the throat briskly with the hand. Immediate relief will 
 follow. 
 
 The Peach 'Worm. 
 
 Make a pile of stones around each tree,' and in close contact 
 with it, to the height of twelve or fifteen inches. This, if done 
 and continued, before the trees have become diseased by the at- 
 tack of the worm, will effectually prevent their decay from that 
 cause ever afterward. 
 
 Properties of Vegetable Composition, 
 
 A vegetable substance is always acid, whenever the oxygen it 
 contains is to the hydrogen in a greater proportion than in water ; 
 it is always resinous, or oily, or spiritous, whenever it contains 
 oxygen in smaller proportion to the hydrogen than exists in wa- 
 ter ; and it is neither acid nor resinous, but is either, saccharine 
 or mucilaginous, or analogous to woody fibre or starch, when- 
 ever the oxygen and hydfogen in it are in the same proportion 
 as in water. 
 
 A Recipe for Destroying Insects on Vines. 
 Take two pounds of soft soap ; two pounds of the flowers of 
 sulphur; two pounds of powdered tob^co ; boil the whole in 
 I ' six gallons of water for half an hour. It may be used cold 0^* a 
 
 .fe 
 
 ^ He is unhappy who wishes to die ; but more so he who fears it. 
 
stone, or metal, the carriage runs with so much greater facility. 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 627 
 
 
 •'i 
 
 
 s§ 
 
 little warm. This, liquid will be found most obnoxious to all 
 
 kinds of insects. 
 
 I Another Mode of Bestrojring Insects. 
 
 In the autumn, or in the early part of winter, trench or plough 
 up. the ground, bringing the subterranean insects to the surface, 
 and the frost will be likely to kill them. The presumption is, 
 that the rose-bug, the curculio, "and all other insects that are so 
 destructive to fruit, and conceal themselves in the ground for a 
 winter's lodgment, do it in the gardens and in the immediate 
 vicinities of the trees, where they committed their depreda- 
 tions. If so, they are easily destroyed, at least in part, as now 
 directed. 
 
 Another Mode of DestroSing Insects. 
 
 The Gardener's Gazette suggests, as one mode of destroying 
 insects that are injurious to fruit-trees and vineyai-ds, to light 
 piles of brushwood when they are about depositing their eggs, 
 and that, attracted by the light, they will fly to it by myriads, 
 and thus perish in the blaze. Often, when engaged in the ex- 
 citing sport of spearing fish by night, in the clear streams of 
 New England, and on the Niagara, we have had our torch- 
 lights literally extinguished by clouds of insects from the adja- 
 cent forests. 
 
 Another Method! to Drive Bugs from Vines. 
 
 The ravage of the yellow-striped bug on cucumbers and mel- 
 ons may be effectually prevented by sifting charcoal dust over 
 the plants; if repeate'd three or four times, the plants will be 
 entirely freed from annoyance. There is in the charcoal some 
 property so obnoxious to these troublesome insects, that they 
 fly from it the instant it is applied. It is said that a few spears 
 of tansey around each hill, when they commence their depreda- 
 tions, will keep them away. 
 
 Another Recipe to Keep Rose-Bugs from Grape-Vines. 
 
 David Cole, of Watervliet, says that he has found air-slacked 
 lime, scattered on grape-vines, when the dew is on, an efi'ectual 
 preventive of the attacks of the rose-bug. It will even make 
 the insects leave the vines, if they have already attacked them. 
 Perhaps ashes and plaster -would answer the same purpose. 
 Further Success Against Rose-Bugs. 
 
 R Newton, Esq., of Worcester, Mass., in a recent number of 
 the Horticulturist, says— I have, for several years applied a 
 simple, easy, and efiectual remedy for them. Take dry ashes--- 
 those taken up in the kitchen the same morning are the best, 
 because the dryest— and with a little paddle, or a transplanting 
 
 He who knows very little is confident in everything. 
 
The Vord, as derived from the Gfreefe, literally 
 
 628 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 a 
 
 -a 
 
 M 
 
 ■S 
 
 .ff 
 
 I 
 
 trowel, throw them plentifully into all parts of the tree or shruh, 
 while the dew is on, and the earlier the better. A repetition on 
 two or three mornings will be well at first ; after that a little 
 watchfulness will discover whether any farther application will 
 be necessary. These bugs frequently destroy the tender shoots 
 of young cherry-trees and the blossoms of our grapes ih this 
 section of the country. I have never known a plentiful s{)rint- 
 ling of ashes, for a few times, fail of saving the trees or securing 
 a crop of grapes from their ravages. I have also used the same 
 remedy for the curculio on the plum-tree, and havg never known 
 it to fail of saving the crop, when begun in season, and followed 
 up regularly two or three times a week. After a rain it should 
 be immediately renewed. 
 
 Habits of Caterpillars. 
 
 The habits of these animals are very curious. Early in the 
 morning, and in wet days, they are snugly stowed away in their 
 nests, which are made in the crotch of some limbs, of three or 
 four thicknesses of web, which prevents tlie rain and dew from 
 touching them. ■ In pleasant weather they will sally forth, for 
 food, leaving, as they pass along, a fine web, which we suppose 
 is a guide or clue to enable them to find their way back again.- 
 They continue out till about the middle of the alfternoonj when 
 they return to camp to spend the night. In order to destroy 
 them, they should be attacked in the morning or evening, while- 
 within their nests, or during some wet day. They may thus be 
 killed all at once. 
 
 Gooseberry Caterpillar. 
 
 To prevent the attack of this pestiferous insect, when the 
 plants are beginning to open their leaf-buds, dust the whole of 
 them over with dry soot. , This simple method has never been 
 known to fail. Soot is particularly offensive to insects generally ; 
 and an article so valuable should not be wasted. 
 
 Importance of Meteorology to the Fariaer. 
 
 The complex science of meteorology has most intimate con- 
 nection with all the pursuits of the farmer, and it is well deserv- 
 ing his attentive study. Although man cannot control the 
 weather, yet a reasonable foresight and caution, which system- 
 atic education imparts, will enable him to modify his operations 
 to varying circumstances. All the elements which constitute 
 what is usually called climate, ought to be carefully observed by 
 every intelligent cultivator of the soil. 
 
 The Importance of Geology for Farmers. 
 
 Among the natural sciences, geology has received more atten- 
 
 A great deal of pride ohscures, or blemishes, a thousand good qualities. 
 
dust of time Of all the portions of our life, they are 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 629 
 
 tion than any other among agriculturists. The connection of this 
 science with agriculture is so apparent to every one who learns 
 but the rudiments of it, that it needs only to be introduced, in 
 treatises_ which are plain and well arranged, to be studied ahd 
 applied. in practice. It teaches the origin and nature of all the 
 various soils and rocks, and all great physical changes which 
 are taking place from natural causes, on the earth, and beneath 
 its surface. 
 
 The Milk Sickness. 
 There is no danger in purchasing cattle from a district where 
 the milk sickness prevails; providing it is situated some consid- 
 erable distance from the maiket, and the cattle are driven on 
 foot. The driving develops the disease in a very short time. 
 K it is much advanced, it will appear generally within twenty- 
 four hours. Cases have been common, in which cattle have 
 been taken from pasture, entirely well to appearance, and after 
 being driven an hour, exhibited the disease in great intensity. 
 It is believed this disease is generally disappearing at the West 
 as the country becora'cs more settled. 
 
 How to Catch Sheep. 
 In catching sheep, never seize them by the wool on the back, 
 as it hurts thera exceedingly, and, in some cases, has been known 
 to kill thera, particularly in hot weather, when they are large 
 and fat. Indeed, the best way is to avoid the wool altogether, 
 and to accustom yourself to take them by the hind leg, or what 
 is still better, by the neck, placing one hatid under the jaws, 
 and the other at the back of the ears. By lifting up the head, 
 in this manner, a child may hold almost any sheep, without dan- 
 ger to the animal or himself. 
 
 Culture of Strawberries. 
 
 A practical man, who writes in the Horticulturist, says: 
 Strawberries can be produced in great abundance, and with 
 more ease than any other valuable fruit. With a moderate de- 
 gree of care and attention, they will yield at the rate of one 
 hundred bushels per acre. They will grow freely on any soil 
 that will give a good crop of corn ; and if planted early in spring, 
 will yield a fair crop in June. He says a common error is to 
 plant thera in old worn-out garden soils, or to manure them too 
 highly, which gives vines, but no fruit. The best is a good, 
 deep, new soil, not Excessively rich. 
 
 To Dry a Cow of her Milk. 
 
 Oircums.tances sometimes render it necessary to stop the lac- 
 tescent action in cows ; and when this occurs, all that is abso- 
 
 The jjersonthat pays promptly is master of everybody's purse. 
 
attend to theirs ; never take great hazards ; don't 
 
 630 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 ■a 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 lutely required is to make a liquor by pouiing into a fresh ren- 
 net-bag two quarts of pure well, spring, or rain water ; reduce 
 the quajitity of the liquor, by boiling briskly, to about one quart, 
 and strain it. Then let it cool to a lukewarm temperature, and 
 give it as a drink to the cow. In forty-eiglU hours she will be 
 dry. For some days her food should be dry and unsucculent, 
 no water being allowed. . 
 
 Sore Teats in Cows. 
 P. Hallock, in the Maine Farmer, gives the following direc- 
 tions for the management of cowis that have sore teats : Take a 
 full pail of cold water, and wash and rub the sores well. Use 
 the whole pailful of water before milking, which cools the teats, 
 or reduces the fever, and the cow will stand perfectly still. 
 After -milking, use half as mu(th more cold water, cleansing the 
 bag and teats well, and in a few days the sores will be healed. 
 This is not all the good you will receive. ' You will have clean 
 milk, and that is the way to have clean butter. 
 
 £nprovemeut in Dairy Stock. 
 
 We deem it an easy matter to add twenty-five per cent, to 
 our dairies, clear of all expenditure of time and money, by im- 
 proving the quality of cows. It is believed there is no dairy in 
 the country consisting of ten or more cbwsy which does ijot 
 show a difference of one-third in the yield of milk from the best 
 to the poorest cows in the yard, yet the same amount of food is 
 consumed by the poorest as the best. Now, to keep an inferior 
 cow through the long .winters of this northern region, with the 
 prospect of only obtaining a two-thirds yield in the summer; we 
 hold to be the, most miserable policy in the world ; it is a suffi- 
 cient deduction in any case from the gross income of the dairy, 
 to feed and properly tend upon the bes); cow we can raise or 
 
 Increasing the tSUli of Covrs. 
 
 Gentle treatment, and rapid atid close milking, will tend to the 
 greatest development of the milk in cows, and tiie contrary 
 practices will have the effect of materially reducing the quantity.' 
 Above all, give theni an abundance of the best feed. 
 
 HotnT to Cure Eickiug Co'ws. 
 Let a beam pass over the head of the cow in the stall where 
 she is to be milked. Take a rope prepared with a noose at one 
 end to pass over her horns, and throw the other end over the 
 beam, thus raising her head well from the ground. In this po- 
 sition she will not be disposed to kick, and she will give down 
 her milk without the least hesitation. 
 
 Few men take the advice of a person ih^t talks a great deaL 
 
to get rid of. FirBt, I essayed smoke, which he bore like a 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 631 
 
 e 
 
 8 
 
 Stabling for Milk Cows. 
 The editor of an agricultural paper says : We have been sur- 
 prised at the increased quantity of milk cows afford from being 
 stabled in the winter, which some recent experiments have 
 proved. A near neighbor suffered his cows, from necessity, to 
 run in the open air during the early part of winter, and, as usual, 
 their milk greatly diminished in quantity, allhough they were 
 well fed on hay and mangel wurtzel. He then stabled them 
 without changing their food ; and taking care, of course, to give 
 them, plenty of clean litter. He lately informed us of the result, 
 that his cows now gave him just double the milk they did when 
 exposed. A similar experiment by the editor proved nearly as 
 successful. I 
 
 Parsnips for Hogs. 
 While carrots appear to be excellent food for horses and cat- 
 tle, and very poof food for hogs, parsnips are found to be very 
 fine for hogs. A writer in the Prairie Farmer says : that pars- 
 nips are preferred by hogs to all other roots, make excellent 
 pork, and will fatten them in six weelis. A hog twenty-two 
 months old, weighing when alive 750 pounds, was fattened en- 
 tirely on raw parsnips and sour milk, and the meat was of the 
 best quality. 
 
 Soot, Briokdust, and Charcoal for Poultry. 
 Soot is a very ancient remedy among old-fashio;ied house- 
 wives actually possessing aperient and "btive properties. Red 
 brickdust has also peculiar effects, as well as small pebbles and 
 sand, which poultry will sometimes eagerly devour. Pulver- 
 ized charcoal should also be furnished freely if poultry are to 
 be made healthy or fat. These act as triturents w the oesopha- 
 gus and aid in the quicker dispersion of bile amongst the crude 
 matters the fowls contain. Calcareous substances are required 
 for the formation of, and excretion, of the material comprising 
 the egg-shell. If deprived of the above-named .substances, the 
 birds will pine away and die. 
 
 Value of Hen Manure. 
 The complaint of the fly on turnips, and bugs on cucumbers 
 and other similar vines, is one of yearly, and sometimes of long 
 occurrence. The mischief done by these little pests is very 
 provoking, and frequently results in losses of labor and good 
 crons which are very discouraging to cultivators. I have late- 
 vT^n Smed- b/an intelligent and skillful cultivator, that 
 the following preparation affords an ample and complete reme- 
 dy : Take hin manure, one part, reduce it as well as you can to 
 
 A civil answer to a rude speech wsts not much, and is worth a great deal. 
 
ed to the highest have gained the most extended 
 
 632 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 powder ; then, w'lLli'an equal part of plaster of Paris, iiicorpoiate 
 well together, and sprinkle the mixture over the vined.or sow it' 
 over the drills of your turnips. 
 
 Hen manure is free from the seeds of foul weeds, and in con- 
 sequence of the great abundance of ammonia it contains, it pos- 
 sesses a great efltect in pushing plants forward — -hence for toma- 
 toes, peppers, and similar plants in our northern climate, pos- 
 sesses high value. It is worth being saved with care by far- 
 mers and gardeners, for ev^ry purpose of cultivation. , Care 
 should be .used, however, in its application, for if given in too 
 large quantities and placed in too close pioximity to th,e roots of 
 the plant, its effects are fatal. Its value for all purposes is 
 greatly increased by being mixed with charcoal, or when tliLs is 
 not at hand, with plaster. Every man who keeps hens should 
 have his hen-house so constructed as to save all the manure, 
 and as dry as may be, and he will find it no inconsiderable item 
 in his matters of rural economy. 
 
 Convenient Preparation for Glue. 
 
 Upon every household and farm establishment Ihere is occa- 
 sion at times for the use of good glue. The difficulty is, that it 
 is wanted so seldom, most farmers are not induced to keep it on 
 hand in good condition. The following mode of pi;eparing it 
 obviates the difficulty : Instead <>f dissolving it in water, and 
 heating it over the fire every time it is needed, dissolve it in 
 whisky ; then it will remain any time in a fluid state and fit for 
 application without bein^ heated except in the coldest weather, 
 when it should be a little warmed. When dissolved, it should 
 be put into a tight vessel to prevent the evaporation of the spirit. 
 This may be done in a tin vessel with a cover fitted over it. If 
 corked up in a bottle, the stopper ^ould.becopie tight and im- 
 movable. 
 
 Slaughtering Hogs. 
 
 Hogs should be killed when the weather is sufficiently cold to 
 insure that when they are hung up, after having been cleaned, 
 they shall not only become quite cold to the touch, tut feel 
 hard and stiff. They should be killed on one day, and cut up 
 ahd salted on the next. When the weather is very cold, they 
 should be hung in a cellar, or somewhere where they are not 
 likely to become frozen ; but if there is no danger of this, let 
 thera hang in the open air. 
 
 Killing Fowls. 
 
 The best method of killing fowls is to put their heads off at a 
 single blow, with a sharp axe, and then hang them up, and al- 
 low' them to bleed freely. By this process th«y never know 
 
 One mild word quenehes more heat than a whole bucket of water. 
 
every person, when he hears others use profane, indecent. 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 633 
 
 o 
 v 
 
 S 
 bo 
 
 \ 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 what hurts them, or endure pain for a second. Wrintfing llie 
 necks of poultry is almost as shocking as nailing their feet to 
 planks, for the purpose of fattening them, and follows in tlie 
 same barbarous category. 
 
 Jewish Mode of Slaughtering Cattle. 
 This mode is so humane and considerate, that for that, if 
 nothing else, the disgraceful impediments and liabilities whicii 
 prevent th^ir full enjoyment of all political rights, ouglit to be 
 expunged and done away with forever. A sharp knife, so 
 sharp, in fact, that the least notch in the blade would rend-er it 
 unlawful to use it for the purpose,Ms drawn across the throat i if 
 the beast, which causes instantaneous bleeding to death. The 
 rabbinical laws, as to the smoothness of the blade, aie remark- 
 ably stringent, lest any bluntness may cause the animal unne- 
 cessary pain. •■ 
 
 Directions for Cabbage Plants. 
 
 A correspondent of the Prairie Farmer says— I have boxes 
 prepared, about twelve inches deep, and set them up on a shel- 
 tered place, high enough to be out of jumping distance of the 
 buffs, and fill them with a good rich soil. Before planting ihe 
 seeds, I t)repare a kettle full of boiling water, and pour it hot 
 as possible over the boxes. This kills the insects and the seed. 
 of weeds in the soil, and when cooled down some, promotes the 
 germination of the seeds planted, which come up a great deal 
 Quicker than when planted in the cold so; The ^eeds are ^wn 
 on top, and pressed in the warm mud with ^board and a,e , - 
 terward covered with about the eighth of an inch of loose so h 
 Thrplants will come up quick and thrifty, and no bugs will 
 trouWe them He says, that in 1847 he raised m this manner 
 9000 plan's whfch yielded him, having sold them for two shil- 
 Fin's per hundred, at the rate of over 19000 to the acre. 
 ° How to Make Whale-Oil Soap. 
 
 Take thirteen pounds of potash and thirty pounds of foot-o.l, 
 and ptu itinto a barrel. Every other day pourupon the mixture 
 twelve quarts of boiling water, stirring it a few minutes every 
 dly When the barrel is filled up with water the soap w.l be 
 fit for use Of this soap four gallons may be dissolved in a 
 Elgtad of 150 gallons of water ^^^J^t 
 TsC :mt::anT:t tL^ame time stiLlates thf gro.th 
 of vegetables. culture of Melons. 
 
 The melon is to be found, in some character, in all tropical 
 countriesrbutUie^fi nest varieties are suppo sed to come from 
 
 T^Ti^^Tdegree oi folly is to think one's self wise ; the next is to tell others. 
 
happy at home.' If *e are not happy there, we canaot be 
 
 634 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 J' 
 
 
 a 
 
 !^ 
 
 Persia and AfFghanistan. Has been cultivated in Europe nearly 
 400 years, -and in the south of that continent it constitutes, in 
 its season, the principal part of the food of the lower classes — 
 proving at once its wholesomeness and nutrition. 
 
 The flesh af a well-grown melon is delicious, as everybody 
 knows. People eat it all manner of ways — sorae with nothing ; 
 some with salt, ginger, and-^even pepper — but commend us to a 
 fine and plump individual of the species, bursting with juicy lux- 
 uriance, laid for an hour in ice, and then eaten with, finefy-' 
 powdered loaf-sugar. It is both cooling and exceedingly com- 
 fortable, at the same time that it is neither a waste, of time nor 
 money^unless, indeed, you are foolish enough to try to partake 
 of such luxuries in a " crack" boarding-house, where, if you are 
 not careful of your appetite, as we once heard the mistress of 
 such an establishment say, " there Won't be enough to go 
 round !" 
 
 There are something like half a dozen varieties of the melon, 
 not including the water concerns. These are the musk-^fpr- 
 merly extensively cultivated fpj- its productive qualities, but now 
 giving way to superior varieties — the early caiitaloupe, so named 
 from a village near Old Rome, where it has grown for centuries, 
 and thence distributed to this Western world — the netted citron,' 
 familiar to all — and the rock melon, of an oval-rpund shape, 
 with large whit? excrescences or rocky appearances thereon; 
 hence its name. Flesh solid, of a yellowish color, rich and 
 melting ; in size, equal to the others. 
 
 The water-melon is purely a tropical fruit, wisely adapted, 
 perhaps, to the wants of its fellow-inhabitants of thos^ regions. 
 Its juice is to them a grateful beverage in the warm Weather. 
 It is in no way nutritious, however. The Jerseys cultivate them 
 largely for the New York and Philadelphia markets. 
 
 How to Destroy the 3ee Miller. 
 
 The Boston Farmer's Journal says, to a pint of water, sweet- 
 ened with lioney or sugan add half a gill of vinegar,, and set it 
 in an open vessel on the top or by the, side of the hive. When 
 the miller comes in the night, he will fly into the mixture, and be 
 drowned. 
 
 Hew to Destroy Lice on Cattle. 
 One of the best things for destroying lice on cattle is to rub 
 them well with rancid lard, or whale or tanner.s' oil. The Bos- 
 ton Cultivator recommends washing the animal a few times 
 with a decoction of red cedar bark. It is- said that scattering 
 upon them buckwheat flour or Indian meal will drive the lice 
 away. 
 
 Men'B eins and their debts are more than they take them to be. 
 
other pflople will keep them. To buy your child a 
 
 ■3 
 
 a 
 •s 
 
 ■.a 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 635 
 
 
 HoTv to Remove Bees. 
 
 Where the queen bee is put the rest of the bees will follow. 
 Set the hive where there is only a faint light ; turn it up, and 
 as the queen bee will make her appearance first, take and place 
 her in an empty hive, and she will speedily be followed by the 
 rest of the iees. 
 
 How to Manage Working Ozen. 
 
 When oxen refuse to work equally well on either side, or 
 when they pull off against each other, yoke them on the side 
 you wish them to work, arid turn them out to feed in that way ; 
 they soon become accuiitomed to it, and work afterward on 
 either side alike. 
 
 Ho-w to Manage a Kicking Cow. 
 
 Take a piece of rope about two feet in length, and tie or 
 splice the two ends together, so as to form a loop.. Double up, 
 by bending, the fore leg of the milking side of the cow, and slip 
 the loop over the knee. By this means she will be obliged to 
 stand on three legs, and will not, of course, be able to kick. 
 Propeif Time for Slaughtering Animals. 
 
 It has lately been ascertained, by a French chemist, that the 
 flesh of animals which are killed in the latter part of the night 
 will keep much longer, without salting, than it will when they 
 are killed in the daytime. This proves that the flesh is better 
 fitted for -keeping'when the hfe and blood are taken from the 
 animal at the time its temperature is the lowest, and the respi- 
 ration the least active. Hence the reason that the flesh of ani- 
 mals that have been highly heated, or hard driven, will scarcely 
 keep at all. 
 
 Salt for Cattle. 
 
 No one should neglect to have his cattle regularly fed with 
 salt, summer and winter. They will never eat too inuch if it is 
 placed constantly before them, where they can obtain it at all 
 times. The best way of giving it is in troughs, which are con- 
 veniently made by a deep cavity in the convex side of a short, 
 thick piece of slab ; the flat side, placed on the ground* are not 
 easily upset. Let theni.be kept filled with salt. In the winter 
 it may be given on the hay in the form of brine. 
 
 ' A Common Error regarding Swine. 
 
 The prevailino' opinion is that porkers are naturally filthy 
 creatures, and therefore no attention is paid to their cleanliness. 
 Such a supposition does great injustice to the pig. A clean pen 
 and new straw is as much relished by him as by any other 
 animal, and will contribute to his thrift. 
 
 ? 
 
 Tou may forgive the falilta of other men freely, but not your own. 
 
numerous and strong, that the sinner, like the wretched 
 
 e2 
 
 Cat) 
 
 636 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 Care of the Foi;iltry-House. 
 In the formation of the nests, it would. be well to have them 
 so construcied as to be drawn out to facilitate the operation of 
 cleansing. Always before setting a hen this drawer should be 
 taken out, well cleansed, and whitewashed inside, which should 
 be repeated as each hen^ hatches out her brood. The nests 
 should be often renewed with clean hay or straw, and always 
 before setting a hen., 
 
 To Kill Lice on Cows, Horses, or Hogs. 
 
 Take the water in which potatoes have been boiled, and rub 
 it ov^r the skin. The lice will be dead in two hours, and never 
 will multiply again. A practical farmer says he has tried vari- 
 ous antidotes for lice; ifmong others, the most violent poisons, 
 hut has found none so completely effectual as this. 
 
 Lice on Poultry. 
 A correspondent of the Cultivatorsays : I had a hen-house 
 about twelve feet square, in \yhich I kept sixty hens, the most 
 of the time shut up, and the lice became so thick I' could not 
 go into it without being almost covered with them. I took two 
 quarts of oil-cake meal, and sowed it with my hand, throwing 
 it all about the house and the nests, also up against the rafters 
 atid sides of the building, and I was not troubled with them 
 afterward. In the course of the season he used six quarts, but 
 thinks the first application of two quarts would have been suffi- 
 cient. 
 
 To Protect Peach-Trees from Frost. 
 
 It is said that peach-trees are more liable to escape frosts 
 when planted on the north or west sides of buildings, the^hade 
 from the south sun preventing the too early starting of the 
 young fruit buds, and their cons'equent injury by subsequent 
 frosts ; and the latter shading them from the morning sun on 
 frosty mornings. 
 
 Making Manure. 
 A correspondent of the Maine Farmer says that he converted 
 straw, corn-stalks, and potato-lops into good manure in fourteen 
 days, only by heaping them together, and mixing unslacked lime 
 with them. He used six casks of lime, and had fifty loads of 
 good manure. The loads were such as farmers usually carry, 
 a large half cord to the load 
 
 How to Avoid Litigation. 
 
 Be sure and never go to Ikw, with a neighbor especially. It 
 is unnecessary ; and both parties lose by it. If a difference of 
 
 To for^ve injuries is a most noble and magnanimous revenge: 
 
introduces, with ao irresistible air of insinuation, 
 
 
 •a 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 637 
 
 opinion arise between two neighbors on a matter of pecuniary 
 interest, let each one endeavor to imagine.himseif an arbitrator 
 between two other persons, to decide oif his honor the same 
 points of disagreement. That may and will probably enable 
 him to view the case correctly. Then resolve to have a friendly 
 interview each with the other, determined not only to do what 
 he thinks right, but then if necessary to divide the difference, 
 and, moreover, to give up the whole rather than contend. This 
 is preferable to a legal quarrel. If both parties will come togeth- 
 er with such a disposition, the difficulty will be adjusted. If 
 one remain obstinate and unyielding, let the one who yields the 
 whole never have anything to do with him again; and it will soon 
 appear that he acted the wisest part. 
 
 How to Force the Growth pf Rhubarb. 
 
 Rhubafb should be in a rich soil, and its growth may be ac- 
 celerated by simply pljacing over the root a barrel with on,e head. 
 An old flour-barrel, the head uppermost, of course. The plants 
 should be at such a distance that the ba,rrels, each covering a 
 root, nearly touch each other. Thus, by simply putting bar- 
 rels oyer the plants in the above manner, they will grow two or 
 three times as fast as though left open to the weather, especially 
 in the early part of the season. 
 
 But if it is desired to force the growth still more rapidly, it 
 can be done in the following manner : let the barrels be arranged 
 as above ; then with a dung-fork fill up all the spaces between 
 them with fresh stable manure ; placing also on the tops of the 
 barrels a layer of a foot in thickness. A fermentation soon com- 
 mences, and the heat thus generated, the atmospheric air being 
 excluded from the casks, soon causes the plant to grow vigor- 
 ously, and in two or three weeks the barrel becomes hterally 
 filled with fine blanched, semi-ti'ansparent leaf-stocks of the 
 rhubarb. Then let the manure be carefully removed ; raise the 
 barrels, one at a time ; break off the largest leaves, not disturb- 
 ing the crown ; and afterward replacing the casks and manure 
 as before. If this is done in March, sometimes, as early as in 
 the month of April, enough can be obtained frotn a smgle plant 
 for ten or a dozen pies. The leaf-stocks thus blanched require 
 no peeling. They are brittle and juicy, and by washing a httle 
 are fit for use. 
 
 To Prevent Birds and Squirrels Destroying Com. 
 
 Soak the seed half a day, previous to planting in a moderately 
 stronffsolution of copperas and saltpetre, and dry it or rol it 
 wrilasterni o gshes. Either will do . This preparation 
 
 >Tis a mark of great proficiency to bear easily the faults of other men. 
 
oa every subject ; and it was wisely oontriyed by Providence, that 
 
 638 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 P. 
 
 .9 
 
 L 
 
 will eflEectually guard the seed frOm birds or squirrels, and give 
 the corn-blade, after germinating, a rapid start. 
 
 How cau One have Hay Seed without buying it ? 
 
 Many farmers never think of saving the offal from the cattle 
 or horse-manger, but throw it away, or into the manure heap. 
 In either case the seed is lost, and in the last it becomes a nui- 
 sance, if the manure is applied to hoed crops. On the other 
 hand, there are farmers who save enough to stock all their own 
 meadows. 
 
 Let Sun-Flovtrers Qro-w on Margin Lands. 
 
 This plant should be cultivated much more than it is at pres- 
 ent. On rich soils it yields a large quantity of seed, which is 
 valuable in fattening poultrj', (baking the flesh exceedingly sweet 
 and delicate. It is also excellent food for cattle, more especially 
 when ground and mixed with other grain. It is said that one 
 hundred pounds of the seed contains from thirty to forty pounds 
 of oil. 
 
 Another Method of Killing Rats. 
 
 A good mode of destroying rats and rriice is to cut old corks 
 into slices as thin as wafers, and to fry them in a pan after it has 
 been used for frying meat, but not burnt; place them about 
 where the vermin appear, and all will be destroyed, for they eat 
 them voraciously. 
 
 ¥o Prevent Tools from Rusting. 
 Every farmer has or ought to have a tool-shop, containing 
 saws, chisels, hatchets, gimblets, augers, and the like. Used 
 only occasionally, they are liable to become rusty. . To pre- 
 vent this, every now and then, especially after having been ex- 
 posed to moisture, wipe them perfectly dry, and then give them 
 a coat of grease or oil. After the season of using them is over, 
 do the same to hoes, spades, and the iron of ploughs and other 
 farm implements liable to injury from rust. 
 
 How to Prevent the Decay of Wood in Farm Implements. 
 
 When not in use, have them sheltered from the sun, wind, 
 rain, and snow. By this means sleds, sleighs, wagons, carts, 
 ploughs, harrows, and the like, will last about twice as long as 
 they would if left in the open air, swelling from moisture one 
 week, and shrinking the next, from the influence of the sun and 
 wind. In a few years more than enough would be destroyed 
 thereby than to build shelters two or three times. 
 
 ' How to Make Gravel-Walks. 
 
 When forming your gi-avel- walks, and before laying on the 
 
 The Devil turns his bSck when he finds the door shut against him. 
 
S 
 
 we show no bowels of mercy, gentleness, and kindness to one 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 639 
 
 gravel, spread a layer of the dark-colored soap-waste, which 
 may be got from any soapery, if in the neighborhood ; then put 
 the gn^vel on that, rolling them together as firmly as possible, 
 iiiis will not only prevent the weeds from growing, but will 
 form a walk as hard and golid as cement. So says an English 
 paper. - An English gardener has for more than twenty years 
 past kept down the weeds in gravel-walks, without apparisnt bad 
 ettect by sprinkling over them, annually, dry salt, in dry 
 weather, and then sweeping it thinly and regularly with a 
 
 Food for Yoimg Turkeys. 
 It is recommended that to each young turkey, at first, there 
 be given a grain of black pepper. . Next give them curd made 
 by the application to milk of reniiet, or by letting the milk be 
 thoroughly soured. ■ This is far better than dough made from 
 Indian meal. They will seldom die if k^t upon curd, unless 
 sufi^ering external evil. 
 
 To Exterminate Beetles. 
 Place a few lumps of unslaoked lime where they frequent ; or 
 set a dish or trap, containing a little beer or syrup, at the bot- 
 tom, and place a few sticks slanting against its sides, so as to 
 form a sort of gangway for the beetles to climb up by, when 
 they will go headlong, into the bait Set for them. Another 
 plan : mix equal weights of red-le^d, sugar, and flour, and place 
 it nightly near their haunts. This last mixture made into sheets, 
 forms beetle wafers, sold at the oil shops. 
 
 Another Method of Destroying Fowl-Lioe. 
 
 The insects which infest setting hens may be easily destroyed 
 by thoroughly sprinkling the nests and wetting the fowls, even 
 to the skin, with a Strong decoction, made by pouring hot water 
 on a handful of common leaf tobacco, mixed when cold with a 
 table-spoonful of spirits of turpentine and double that quantity 
 of gunpowder. It will be. well, also, occasionally to take away 
 tfieir own nests and make new ones of fresl^ hay or straw. 
 
 Remedy for the Gapes, a Disease in Chickens. 
 Take as much kitchen soap as will cover the thumb nail, and 
 having mixed it up with some meal dough, give it to your 
 chickens, at any stage of this disease. This has been effectual 
 on the first application almost always ; a second rarely neces- 
 sary, and when it is so, it is next to impossible that it should 
 fail. 
 
 The Importance of Punctuality. 
 Method is the very hinge of, business ; and there is no method 
 
 s- 
 
 CO 
 
 s- 
 3 
 
 It is more noble to make yourself great than to be born so. 
 
merciful Providence ; iinij that, if- what we once eagerly 
 
 640 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 vviiliout punctuality. Puni:tu;ility is impoiitant, because it sub- 
 serves the peace and gond temper of the family ; the want of it 
 luH only infringes on necessary duly, but sometimes excludes 
 this duty. To the farmer it is as necessary as to the merchant. 
 The care and feeding of stock, the tilling of the ground, the 
 sowing of the seed, the supervision of fruit, the general harvest, 
 and a constant vigilance in guarding against waste, should be 
 regulated with the tindevialing precision of the flowing tides of 
 the ocean. 
 
 Use of a Ne-wspaper in the Country. 
 In the seclusion and privacy of rural life, a good newspaper 
 answers much, the same purpose as the spy -glass in view.itig 
 distant terrestrial objects, or as the telescope to the astronomer 
 in bringing within the reach of vision the far-off heavenly bodies ; 
 bringing before the mental eye, collected in one group, the 
 whole variety of animated nature. Human life, in all its vicissi- 
 tudes of woe and weal ; the hut of squalid poverty, the polluted 
 dens of vice, the prison's dungeon, as well- as the equipage and 
 gayety of the multitudes who experience no want and feel no 
 pain. In the newspaper, too, the realities of the world are oct 
 casionally diversified, with the softer hues of romance and the 
 delicate sunbeams of poetry. 
 
 The Fragrance of Flowers. 
 It has been stated that the fragrance of flowers depends on 
 the volatile oils they contain ; and these oils, by their constant 
 evaporation, surround the flowerwith a kind of odorous atmo- 
 sphere, which, at the same time that it entices larger insects, 
 may probably preserve the parts of fructification from the rav- 
 ages of the smaller ones. Volatile oils, or odorous substances, 
 seem particularly destructive of these minute insects and ani- 
 malculae, which feed on the substance of vegetables. 
 
 How to Preserve Cabbage. 
 
 If the raising of vegetables is an object to the farmer, their 
 preservation will be found no less so. Among the methods of 
 preserving cabbage, some may prefer the following : After they 
 are gathered, and freed from their loose leaves and stalks, that 
 nothing remains but the sound part of the he&d, let them be 
 put into air-tight casks. Thus excluded from the air, they may 
 be kept a long time. Those designed for the longest keeping 
 should be put into small casks, as they will soon spoil whfen ex- 
 posed to the air. 
 
 How to get Manure Cheap. 
 As soon as the summer manure is scraped out of the cow- 
 
 Pios-perity ia the worst enemy that men usually have. 
 
uncomm6n sanctity, by affected strictness.and sever- 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 641 
 
 yard, spread over it again plentifully, leaves, litter, loam, peat- 
 mud, or almost anytliing else. Fail not to neglect it. The cost 
 to do it will be much less than to purchase guano or poudiette, 
 and it will be more useful, for you will be able to improve the 
 texture of your soil, if you exercise good judgment in selecting 
 your materials! 
 
 ,Aii Abundande of Litter for Cattle, Horses, and Hogs. 
 If you cannot be otherwise better supplied, as soon as the 
 leaves fall in autumn, go with your cart or wagon to the woods 
 and gather them. With a good iron rake a load is quickly col- 
 lected. When gathered faster than wanted for use, put them in 
 a pen for the succeeding portions of the year. Do this in the 
 morning when the dew is on, or immediately after rain. The prac- 
 tice may be continued through the winter when tlie ground is 
 not covered with snow. Almost any one may thus collect what 
 will be worth to him twenty dollars, without seemingly being 
 aware when he did it. 
 
 Food for Young Chickens. 
 Nothing is better for them than Indian corn dough, made of 
 coarse meal: In two 6r three weeks they may be allowed the 
 refuse of wheat and cracked Indian corn of the size of rice, also 
 buckwheat, or any small grain. As soon as tliey can eat these 
 welV they are preferable to the dough. 
 
 Treatment of Mushrooms. 
 Instead of pulling up mushrooms by the roots, it has been 
 recommended from experience to cutoff the stems with scissors. 
 The advantages of this plan are, first, that the plant is picked 
 free from earth ; and, secondly, that it will sprout again and 
 expedite the collection of them. 
 
 The Value of Books in the Country. 
 When a young man has acquired a love of reading, and of 
 eouVse a reih for intellectual pleasure, he never suffers for the 
 wantof solty. and has one o? the best preservatives again 
 dissipation and' clownish manners. In the ^^^ °f su h af 
 guards a fondness for, low company and nois, - "' ™iper^ ^jP'^-^^^ 
 ^re^ in the leisure seasons of rural life, may steal upon liim un 
 awa;es WeHchosen books, therefore, in the families of am^ 
 erirare of inestimable value. There should be an app.opnation | 
 for them every year. 
 
 The Importance of Industry. 
 Man must have occupation or^e^^^^^^^^^^^^I^^ 
 
 ' 41 
 
heights, nor to fall below the standard of attainable- 
 
 642 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 'So 
 
 We- are liappiei> with tlio sterility which we can overcome by 
 industry, than we could have been with spontaneous plenty and 
 unbounded profusion. 
 
 Ho-w to Prdcnre Early Cabbages. 
 Tate from the stumps of old cabbages, which are generally 
 set out early in the spring, the most prominent shoots, after 
 they have sufficiently expanded themselves, and set th^rm out in 
 the same manner as you do plants, and they will immediately 
 take root, and afford an early and luxuriant cabbage. Those 
 who have tried this method affil-m that they are much earlier 
 and far superior to any that can be raised from tlie plants. 
 ITiey must be broken from the stumps, and not cut off, as their 
 stiiall fibres 'greatly facilitate their taking root. 
 
 Rights on the Public Bead. . 
 Every roan who travels should know and bear in mind that 
 he is bound to keep on tlie right side of the middle of the trav- 
 eled path. In most States we believe this is required by law ; 
 and the neglect of this rule subjects the offending individual to 
 all the damages which may arise from accidents occasioned by 
 his being on the wrong side of the road. 
 
 Good Manners on the Public Road, 
 
 In meeting loaded teams on the road, if it is very inconvenient 
 for them to turn out, it is common courtesy to give them more 
 of the road than the law requires ; also, in meeting , others, pro- 
 vided we have the best part of the road. Grpod itianners are as 
 conspicuous on the public highway as in the parlor. If we "wit- 
 ness them in traveling among strangers, we imagine ourselves 
 among Christiarl people. 
 
 ■What the Ancients thought of Agriculture. 
 
 Soci;ates says, Agriculture, is an employment the most worthy 
 the application of man, the most ancient and the most suitable 
 to his nature ; it is the common nurse for all persons, in every 
 age and condition of life ; it is the source of health, strength, 
 plenty, and riches ; and of a thousand sober delights and hon- 
 est pleasures. It is the mistress and school of sobriety, temper- 
 ance, justice, religion, andj in short, of all virtues. 
 
 To Remove Rust from Finely-Polished Steel. 
 Rub the rust with any kind of soft animal fat, and lay the ar- 
 ticles by, wrapped in thick paper, for two or three days ; then, 
 after cleaning off the grease with a piece of soft flannel, rub the 
 spots well with powdered rotten stone and sweet-oil, after which 
 the polish may be restored, by rubbing with powdered emery, 
 
 Quoth the curate, -when you are all agreed upon the time, I will make it raia. 
 
charaoterizB all on '«arth that is around us ; and, at the 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 643 
 
 
 
 ■p. 
 ■a. 
 
 
 b 
 
 V 
 
 , > 
 
 on a soft leather ; and the process may be finished with finely- 
 powdered chalk or naagnesia. 
 
 OypBum as <a Manure. 
 Plaster of Paris, or gypsum, aught to' be used wherever it can 
 be advantageously applied. It is not only one -of the cheapest 
 manures, but one of the most beneficial. It affords direct food 
 to maTiy plants ; draws the nutritious gases from the atmo- 
 sphere, for the support -of the plants ■ and it concentrates the 
 dews upon them, early in the afternoon, and late in the morn- 
 ing. When plaster is applied, and suited to the soil and crop, 
 yott Can discera its effects for several miles. 
 
 TTses of Corn-Hu&ks. 
 
 The outside husks of Indian corn, neatly plaited, -with the 
 braids stitched together from the centre to the edge, make ex- 
 cellent, durable door-mats. The inner husks, when coarsely 
 he'tcheled, and freed from the end of the cob, can be made into 
 comfortable matresses, that many people prefer to those made 
 of curled liair. 
 
 To Cure Scours in Cattle. 
 
 A piece of common clay of the siee of a goose egg, burned 
 till it becomes red, pulverized with the same quantity of hard- 
 wood coall, mixei witH water, and given to any tind of horned 
 cattle, seldom fails to cure tlie worst cases of scouring. If one 
 dose does not cure, try another. 
 
 The Language of Flowers. 
 
 The fair lily is an image of innocence ; the purple rose the 
 figure of unfelt love ; faith is represented by the blue passion- 
 flower ; hope beams forth from the evergreen ; peace from the 
 olive-branch ; modesty is typified by the blue, fragrant violet ; 
 compassion by the ivy ; tenderness by the myrtle ; and natural 
 honesty and fidelity by the oak-leaf. Likewise, silent gnef is 
 portrayed by the weeping- willow, and melancholy by the 
 cypresSi 
 
 Watering Plants. 
 
 Newly-traBsplanted trees, till the rOols become firmly fixed in 
 the ground, in the dry season of the year, require constant at- 
 tention Frequent stirring of the ground prevents the effects ot 
 drought In order to prevent the soil from becoming baked and 
 hardfit is recommended that th« surface be removed before 
 watering, and then replaced. 
 
 A Speblmen of Indtistry. 
 
 A correspondent of the Albany Atlas says, he became ac- 
 quainted twelve years ago T^ith a man who owned and occupied 
 
 A change df fortune no more injures a wise man than a change in the moon. 
 
and left unfinished ; no pleasing oonnectfons will be formed, and then 
 
 644 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 P. 
 'a 
 
 
 a fifty-acre farm, kept in tlie best state of cultivation by his own 
 labor. When asked bow he managed to do so much, without 
 ever appearing to be in a hurry, and never behindhand in his 
 work, he said, " I always rise at four o'clock in the morning, 
 summer and winter, and frequently get half through a day's 
 work before my neighbors get fairly to work in the morningi 
 and have plenty of time, to read the Cultivator and two or- three 
 newspapers." He now owns another and a larger farm, occupies 
 both, and superintends the manufacture of over half a million 
 bushels of salt yearly i; in doing which he travels six miles every 
 morning, and frequently gets to his office before his deputies ; 
 and has apparently as much leisure to read and converse as 
 when he cultivated the small farm. 
 
 Poiver of Absorbing Heat, 
 The earth is capable of absorbing heat during sunshine, so as 
 to attain a temperature above the surrounding air. Dark-colored, 
 brown, and reddish soils absorb heat most rapidlj', and become 
 warm the soonest. They also become from three to eight de- 
 grees warmer than other colored soils, and by this means proniote 
 the growth of vegetation better than those of other coloi-s. This 
 property gives an additional value to dark soils over light-colored 
 ones, in countries where sunshine is deficient, and in fields which 
 have a northern aspect.- 
 
 Grease for Cart Wheels. 
 
 The best composition for greasing cart and wagon wheels is 
 that recommended by a celebrated French chemist, 'viz., eighty 
 parts of grease — say coarse lard or ofFal tallow — and twenty 
 parts of black-lead — plumbago — reduced to a very fine p'owder, 
 and most intimately and completely blended together. This 
 composition is surprisingly iiseful, and a very small quantity will 
 sufiice. It is equally, good for looks, hinges, and any kind of 
 metallic or wood machinery where there is friction. 
 
 Manure for Asparagus. 
 
 A correspondent of Downing's Horticulturist raises shoots of 
 asparagus, which he says are, without exaggeration, as large as 
 his hoe-handle, and perfectly tender and succulent. His mode of 
 culture is this : one part of hen -dung to forty parts of stable 
 manure, are spread two inches thick in autumn, and forked in. 
 Next spring this is turned over lightly, and a coating of a quarter 
 of an inch of salt added. This dissolves by rain, and kills every 
 weed, while it' promotes the vigorous growth of the asparagus. 
 He cuts his asparagus when six inches high, whojiy above grbund, 
 and then it is perfectly tender. 
 
 A spoonful of honey will catch tnore flies than a gallon of vinegar. 
 
80 rude and barbarous, that in the midst of their wildest superstitions 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 645 
 
 a. 
 
 d 
 
 e 
 
 Ho-w to be a Good Farmer. 
 
 Here is the secret of good farming. You cannot tate from 
 the hind more than you restore to it, in some shape or other, 
 without ruining it, and so destroying your capital. Different 
 soils may require different modes of treatment and cropping, but 
 in every variety of soil these are the golden rules to be observed : 
 Drain until you find that the water that falls fi-om heaven does 
 not stagnate on the soil, but runs through it and off it freely. 
 Turn up and till the land until your foot sinks into a loose pow- 
 dery loam, through which the air and heat will readily penetrate. 
 Let no weed occupy the place where a useful plant could possi- 
 bly grow. Collect every particle of manure that can be ob- 
 tained, whether liquid or solid. Let nothing on the farm go to 
 waste. Put in your crops in that course which experience has 
 shown to lead to success in their growth, and to an enrichment 
 and not impoverishment of the land. Give every plant room to 
 spread its roots in the soil, and leaves in the air. And, in all 
 your operations, endeavor to be a little ahead of your neighbors. 
 Vegetable Instinct. 
 
 If a pan of water be placed within six inches on either side of 
 a stem of a young pumpkin or vegetable marrow, it will, in the 
 course of the night, approach it, and will be found in tlie morn- 
 ing with one of its leaves floating on the Water. This experi- 
 ment may be continued nightly. until the plant begins to fruit. 
 If a prop be placed within six inches of a young convolvulus, or 
 scarlet runner, it will find it, although the prop be shifted daily. 
 If after it has twined some distance up the prop, it be unwound 
 and twined in the opposite direction, it will return to its original 
 position, or die in the attempt ; yet notwithstanding, if two of 
 these plants grow near each other, and have no stake around 
 which they can entwine, one of them will alter the direction of 
 its spiral, aod thef will twine round each other. , • . , 
 
 Duhamel placed some kidney beans in a cylinder of moist 
 earth ; after a short time they began to germinate, of course 
 sending the plume upward to the light and root down into the 
 soil After a few days the cylinder was turned one-fourth round, 
 and again and again this was repeated, until an entne revolution 
 of the cylinder had been completed. The beans were then taken 
 out of the earth, and it was found that both the plume and radicle 
 had bent to accommodate themselves to every >^evoIut.on and 
 the one in its effort to ascend perpendicularly and the othe, to 
 descend, had formed a perfect spiral. But althougli the natu- 
 ral tend;ncy of the roots is downward, if the soil beneath be 
 dry, and any damp substance be above, the roots will ascend to 
 
 reach it. 
 
 A false friend and a shadow attend us, only when the snn shines. 
 
yet, even in straitened circumstances, many of tbe simple and 
 
 646 
 
 MISCELLAMES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 ^ 
 >> 
 
 Value of Indian Com and Buckwheat foi- Hens. 
 It is believed that a bushel of corn will last twice as long as 
 a bushel of buckwheat in feeding hens ; but the latter will make 
 them lay eggs more than any other grain, the profit thus over- 
 balancing the cost. By mixing chalk with their food, the shells 
 of the eggs will be peculiarly white. By mixing with it a cal- 
 careous earth, rich in bxide of iron, the color of the egg-shells 
 will be of an orange red. 
 
 . Rural Arcbitecture. 
 
 There is frequently witnessed in the country a deplorable 
 want of architectural taste and skill. Many of the structures 
 seen, particularly dwelling-houses, evince not the least conform- 
 ity' to the principles of architecture or good taste. The only 
 object seems to have been to obtain an enclosure from the storm 
 and cold, without the least regard to a comely form and just 
 proportions. Now it is a fact, that the well-cultivated mind, if 
 not made familiar with the scfientifio principles of the art, is as 
 much shocked at such exhibitions, as at seeing a deformed ani- 
 mal — to wit, crooked and unwieldy limbs ; or, three legs where 
 there should be four, or two heads Tshere there should be one 
 only. Edifices thus constructed have Ipst much of their com- 
 mercial value. Such evils can be easily avoided. Let every 
 person engaging in the erection of a house or other building, if 
 no well-instructed carpenter is at hand to take the charge of it, 
 consult a book of architepture, with regular drawings ; either 
 the American Architect, published by C, M. Saxton, of New 
 York, or sonoie similar work. Without ,such precautions, we 
 should no more think of putting lumber and other building ma- 
 terials into the hands of a person, simply knowing how to use 
 a bro^^d-axe, hand-saw, and jack-plane, but having no particular 
 skill in the principles of the science of architecture, than we 
 should think of putting fine broadcloth and a satin vest pattern 
 into the hands of a sailmaker to be manufactured into a suit of 
 wedding clothes. The latter, so far as taste is concerned, would 
 succeed about as well as the former. 
 
 Family Reading in the Country. 
 
 We designed to furnish a catalogue of books for private and 
 social libraries in the country ; but our limits have already been 
 overreached^ For standard reading, history and biography 
 should have a prominent place. The biography of self-made 
 men is particularly fitted to Create interest, and to lead to the 
 development of the slumbering energies frequently existing in 
 rural life. Voyages and travels furnish much calculated to lead 
 to the same results. A few works on moral science should 
 
 Never believe reputed faults of another, unless upon the best aulboiUj. 
 
•a 
 
 O 
 
 of a good conscience, the pleasing sense of having acted hon- 
 
 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 647 
 
 have place in furnishing the elements of correct views upon the 
 various business relations needful in every community. And 
 there IS usually not a destitution, particularly among the female 
 members of a family, of taste for well-chosen volumes of poe- 
 try. This taste should be cherished. It contributes to the 
 best social attributes of character. Books have beftome so 
 cheap, those of the descripti-on named should be classed with 
 the necessaries of life. A few dollars appropriated each year 
 to this object, in time will secure a valuable library. 
 
 Books for Every Farmer. 
 Independent' of the books designed for general instruction and 
 amusement, there are a few whicli the farmer should esteem in- 
 dispensable ; as much needed as his agricultural implements, 
 ploughs, harrows, spades, wagons, chains, rakes, forks, and the 
 lilje. We name a few ; to wit, a good treatise on manures — 
 Dana's Muck Manual, and perhaps others. Squarey's Agricul- 
 tural Chemistry ; A Popular Treatise on Vegetable Physiology ; 
 Youatt on the Horse ; and the same author on the Pig. These 
 four, and several other valuable works on kindred subjects, are 
 published by Lea & Blanchard. The American Farrier is an 
 excellent work, and cheap. Allen's Domestic Animals, and the 
 American Farm Book by the same author. Cole's Diseases of 
 Domestic Animals and American Fruit Book are books of the 
 best kind, and are perhaps the cheapest ones of their- class in the 
 market. Browne's American Poultry- Yard and Miner's Bee- 
 Keeper's Manual ; the latter, particularly, tlie best work on thu 
 subject. Nor would we omit Thomas' American Fruit Cultur- 
 ist, and Downing's Fruit and Fruit Trees of America. On the 
 kitchen garden, we think of nothing better than Buist. Cate- 
 chism of Agricultural Chemistry and Geology. Of a more ex- 
 pensive grade is the American Farmer's fincyclopsedia ; the 
 American Herd-Book ; and the American Shepherd ; the first of 
 the three a library of itself. There may be other works occu- 
 pying the same ground and of steHing merit, from which the 
 farmer maj' select, if his means enables him to increase his stock 
 of agricultural literatuie. 
 
 Periodical Iiiteratura 
 It is desirable that there should be in every family, especially 
 if there are voung persons approximating adult age, a constant 
 and regular supply of periodical literature. Coming to hand 
 every week or two, or once a month, there will be. on each oc- 
 casion a fresh interest that will subside only when the aliment 
 on which it is nurtured has all been consumed. We allude here 
 not to newspapers, which should be, in every family, but to pe- 
 
 We should never leave things to chance for which foresight can provide. 
 
prison, or stretched on a sick, bed, peaceful and 
 
 g 
 
 648 MISCELLANIES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 
 
 riodicals consisting of prime liteiature, suitable, when once read, 
 to be bound up and preserved in a library for subsequent rend- 
 ing and reference. We could name at -least twenty Magazines 
 worthy of patronage; but, .if a family can take 6nly one, and 
 desire that one to be of the first rank, we recommend Litlell's 
 Living Age. It contains the essence of the best periodicals, 
 and is prepared by a gentleman of rare good taste, of unwea- 
 ried assiduity, and having had in this department of literature 
 more experience than any Other man in the country. A few 
 years will make this a library of itself. The amount of matter 
 it contains is incredible ; and appearing once a week, it is always 
 fresh, the zest inspired by each number remaining active for the 
 succeeding one, and so on till the end of the year. 
 Agricultural Periodicals. , 
 We, have elsewhere spoken generally of these useful vehicles 
 of knowledge. We know not how any farmer can think of liv- 
 ing without one or more of them. Several are so cheap, we 
 should suppose persons having a taste for reading would, take 
 two or three of tliem. An individual cultivating a farm must 
 be excessively dull, if he cannot glean from either, provided he 
 takes half a dozen, knowledge -that will be worth to him the 
 cost of the whole. A dozen of these journals might be named 
 of great excellence, and it would be difficult to decide which of 
 them are best; perhaps each is best adapted to its own locality. 
 If either one deserves any kind of pre-eminence, it may be as- 
 signed, we trust, without injustice to the others, to the Albany 
 Cultivator, because of its long standing as well as its intrinsic 
 excellence, and of the indomitable perseverance of its proprietor 
 and principal editor, a .self-made man, and of nature's best 
 workmanship. We slightly knew him when a mere tyro priiit- 
 er. His journal has a circulation of 20,000, and it deserves 
 50,000. The Genesee Farmer has, we believe, a similar circu- 
 lation, and is reputed to be second to no one of its class. Un- 
 fortunately, we personally know but little of it. The Ohio Cul- 
 tivator and the Prairie Farmer are doing immense good in their 
 own States. The same may be said of the Michigan Farmer 
 and the Pennsylvania Cultivator. And in New England, is the 
 Maine Farmer, the Massachusetts Ploughman, the Boston Cul- 
 tivator, the Berkshire Culturist, the Vermont Agriculturist, and 
 the Farmer and Mechanic, all conducted with ability, and exert- 
 ing a valuable influence wherever circulated. We occasionally 
 see excellent extracts from them. 
 
 We shall be excused in uttering a more particular wovd in 
 regard to the Farmer's Monthly Visitor, which has for more 
 than ten years enligbtened our dear native hills of the Granite 
 
 A great mind may cbange its objects, but cannot relinquish tbem. 
 
lies the poisoned root of evil. Pleasure will captivate 
 
 6 
 S 
 
 
 MISCELLAMES IN RURAL ECONOMY. 649 
 
 State ; published for fifty aents a year, almost like a tract, for 
 charitable distribution, at the expense of the zealous proprietor 
 ' — an, act pregnant with results, that will be remembered, when 
 the high political honors hp has received shall be forgotten. 
 Next in this enumeration is the Working Farmer, nearly under 
 the shadow of our own domicil, of recent origin, but full of truth, 
 and fresh from the learned editor's own deep fountain, rather 
 than the pens of correspondents. Next in local proximity is 
 Allen's American Agriculturist, more taken and read in our 
 own immediate neighborhood than all other similar papers to- 
 gether — sufficient evidence how highly it is here prized. With 
 the New England Farmer we close specifications — a journal 
 adapted to our own particular taste, and of course highly ap- 
 preciated ; not less because we Consider its editor one of the first 
 in the fraternity, than because his work sprang from the ashes 
 of another of the same name, conducted perhaps a score of 
 years by one beloved by all who knew him, and one of the most 
 devoted agriculturists of his time, Thomas Greene Fessenden. 
 He and Judge Buel were co-lafeorers. 
 
 Unintentionally we have omitted a passing notice of the veter- 
 an editor of the Plough, Loom, and Anvil, a periodical of great 
 worth, both for talent and mechanical beauty. It is worthy of 
 preservation for the library. Nor is it inappropriate to -name in 
 th? same connection, that one of the most scientific and elaborate 
 Works on agriculture is now in process of publication in month- 
 ly numbers— the Farmer's Guide to Scientific and Practical 
 Agriculture — being the joint production of Stephens, author of 
 the well-known Book of the Farm, and of Professoi- Norton of 
 Yale College. This standard work will make two laige vol- 
 umes, having beautiful illustrations, and no w«ll-read farmer will 
 be without it. Although expensive, it will be worth all it costs. 
 Conclusion of the Circling Year. 
 
 While thus revolving seasons roll, 
 
 Obsequious to God's wise control. 
 Obedient to his plan ; 
 
 With «ilent eloquence they preach, , 
 
 The most important lessons teach. 
 To cold, unthinking man. 
 
 Behold %seZ/ reflected here! 
 
 The Spring proclaims thy infant year, 
 
 Gay life the Summer's bloom ; 
 Mild Autumn speaks maturer age, 
 Confirms thee fool, or hails thee saffe ; 
 
 While Winter shows the tomb. 
 
 m 
 
 "-a 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 a 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 Those who praise tbemselvee, must expect to lose the praise of others. 
 

 
 
 
 # 
 
 CONTENTS AND INDEX. 
 
 
 
 
 Page. Fage. 
 
 
 
 Acre of Ground, its Pioduee, 592 
 
 Bathing-tubs, how made, 
 
 142 
 
 
 
 Affection for Oifspring, 593 
 
 Bathing in the Winter, 
 
 143 
 
 
 
 Affecting Scene, W8 
 
 Beans, History and Culture, 
 
 444 
 
 
 
 Agricultural Bureau, 89 
 
 Beets, Culture and Use, 
 
 471 
 
 
 
 Agricultural Goelebs, 49 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 Agricultural Knowledge in College, 37 
 
 Benefits of Bathing, 
 
 141 
 
 
 
 Agricultural "Wealth, 80 
 
 Best Food to he used on the Farm 
 
 ,103 
 
 
 
 Agriculture 'favorable to Medita- 
 
 Bones as a Manure, 
 
 378 
 
 
 
 tion, 1^6 
 
 Books for every Farmer, 
 
 647 
 
 
 
 Agriculture for Professional M0n, 40 
 
 Daniel Boon's Life, 
 
 304 
 
 
 
 Agricultural Periodicals, 648 
 
 Book-keeping for Farmers, 
 
 71 
 
 
 
 American Artisans, 92 
 
 Borrowed Capital, 
 
 214 
 
 
 
 American Institute, 90 
 
 Bread, Different Kinds, 
 
 555 
 
 
 
 American Ploughman, 229 
 
 Breakfast of Farmers, 
 
 183 
 
 
 
 American Staples, 93 
 
 Broccoli, its Culture and Use, 
 
 464 
 
 
 
 Amusements in the Country, 159 
 
 Broom- com and its Culture, , 
 
 448 
 
 
 
 Amusements for Adults in the 
 
 Buckwheat and its Culture, 
 
 419 
 
 
 
 Country, 168 
 
 Judge Biiel's Plan for Barn-yards 
 
 ,373 
 
 
 
 Analogy between Animals and 
 
 Burning House, how to escape 
 
 
 
 
 Vegetables, 21 
 
 froin it. 
 
 211 
 
 
 
 Animal Physiology, 99 
 Animal and Vegetable Manures, 366 
 Annual Allowance for Furniture, 203 
 
 Business Delusion^ in the City, 
 
 Business Men, 
 
 Cabinet of Animal Skeletons, 
 
 18 
 81 
 
 30 
 
 
 
 Annual Products bfthetJ. States, 85 
 
 Cabbage, its Culture and Use, 
 
 459 
 
 
 
 Anxiety of Business Men, 81 
 
 Cakes, different Kinds, 
 
 559 
 
 
 
 Anxiety of the Merchant, 191 
 Appropriations for Mental Itn- 
 
 Canals and Railroads, 
 Candles, how to be Made, - 
 
 94 
 
 556 
 
 
 
 provement, 133 
 Arkwright, Franklin, and "Wash- 
 
 Carbon, and Carbonic Acid Gas 
 
 Carrots, Culture and Use, 
 
 335 
 
 468 
 
 
 
 ington, 138 
 Artificial Distinctions laid aside in 
 
 Cash Purchases, advantages of 
 them, 215 
 
 
 
 nhnrph 128 
 
 Cauliflower, its Culture and Use 
 
 462 
 
 
 
 Ashes, how. to be kept, 209 
 Aunt Charity, 236 
 Authors Quoted, 5, 6 
 
 Celery, Culture and Use, 
 Cemeteries in the Country, 
 
 479 
 291 
 
 
 
 Change the Order of Nature, 
 
 139 
 
 
 
 Average Quantity of Rain, 80 
 
 Character and Dress, 
 
 62 
 
 
 
 Bad Books, what is said of them, 195 
 
 Cheap Schoolmasters, 
 
 31 
 
 
 
 Bad Taste, 110 
 
 Cheerful Housewife, 
 
 137 
 
 
 
 Baldheaded, hints to, 533 
 
 Chemical Analyses of Soils, 
 
 350 
 
 
 
 Barley and itsjffse, 414 
 
 Children in the Country, how to 
 
 
 
 Barn-yards, how constructed, 371 
 
 exercise, - 
 
 165 
 
 
 
 Baron Rothschild and Louis Phi- 
 
 Children of Mass. Governors, 
 
 273 
 
 
 
 lippe, 136 1 Choice of a "Wife, 
 
 49 
 
 
Clayey Soils, g^^ 
 
 Clergyman in the Country, 41 
 
 Clothing Appropriate to the Coun- 
 
 'ry, 206 
 
 College Aneodote, 3J 
 
 Clothing, how to be Cleaned, 576 
 Coelehs in a Quandary, 302 
 
 Cold Bathing, where best, 142 
 
 Colds and Coughs, 537 
 
 Colleges for the Sons of Farmers, 35 
 Commercial importance of Agri- 
 culture, g^ 
 Common Schools, 27 
 Corn-cobs, value of, 610 
 Corrupt Moral Associations, 63 
 Cotton, its History and Culture, 425 
 Country People Live on their own 
 
 Means, 188 
 
 Country People not Penurious, 187 
 Country People kind to their 
 
 , Neighbors, 189 
 
 Cow, its Profits, ' 495 
 
 Creditors, how Quieted, 142 
 
 Crude Mineirals, 88 
 
 Culmiferous Crops, 394 
 
 Currants and Culture, 485 
 
 Dj.y of Rest Contributes to Good 
 
 Order, 124 
 
 Dancing, what is said of it, 165 
 
 Daughters of Farmers, 66 
 
 Daughters of Unfortunate Mer- 
 chants, 83 
 Debt and Credit Sys'em, 214 
 Debts, when may Farmers con- 
 tract them, 216 
 Debts, caution against them, 214 
 Delusions of Young Men, 57 
 Design and Plan of the Work, 7 
 Destitute Widows, 83 
 Dinner Party, 276 
 Digestion, 628 
 Diseases of the Horse, cure for, 595 
 District School Libraries, 27 
 Doctors in the Country, 42 
 Dog, more useful varieties of, 512 
 Domestic Economy, 651 
 Domestic Happiness, 49 
 Domestic Labor, 101 
 Domestic Routine of Labor, 127 
 
 Page. 
 Door and Barn-yards, 152 
 
 Dung of Poultry, 377 
 
 Duties of the Husband in Living 
 
 Prettily, 2O6 
 
 Dress of Fanners, 153 
 
 Drunkard's FUneral, 113 
 
 Economy of Living in Past Times, 203 
 Education of Farmers, 25 
 
 Effects of Agriculture on Health, 17 
 Effects of Wealth, 188 
 
 Effects of Rural Life, on Old Age, 16 
 Elements of Western Wealth, 316 
 Empire of Woman, 52 
 
 Emigration in Colonies, 313 
 
 Erie Railroad, 95 
 
 Essentials oi, Productive Farm- 
 ing, 447 
 An Evening Scene, 76 
 Excrements of Swine,, 381 
 Excuses for Selling Rum, 108 
 Expense of Newspapers, 133 
 Exposures to the Weather, 99 
 External Signs and Variety of 
 
 Soils, 341 
 
 Evenings Devoted to Reading, 135 
 Factors Dependent on Farmers, 86 
 Failure in Business, 201 
 
 Families Reading Newspapers, 133 
 Family Kindnesses, 76 
 
 Family in the Wilderness, 314 
 
 Family Group at Church, 130 
 
 Family Reading in the Country, 646 
 Farm Divided by a River, 94 
 
 Farm Products, 82 
 
 Farm in Western New York, 95 
 
 Former Habits in regard to 
 
 Drink, 105 
 
 Farmers Become Eminent, 26 
 
 Farmer's Son in College, 37 
 
 Farmer's Daughter at Tea- Table, 72 
 Farmers, what Errors do they in- 
 dulge, 180 
 Farms in New Jersey, 84 
 Fat Cattle of the Western States, 322 
 Female Accountant, 73 
 Female Education, 73 
 Female Dress, 74 
 Female Extravagance, 73 
 Female Teachers, 69 
 
652 
 
 CONTENTS AND INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Fences, how Made, and Cost, 492 
 Fifty years, what has been done in, 325 
 Fire, peculiar dangers for it in the 
 
 Country, 208 
 
 Fire-wood Required, 185 
 Fire, how to be guarded against it, 20? 
 
 First Lessons in Agriculture, 20 
 
 First Lessons of Children, 50 
 
 Fish as a Manure, 378 
 
 Food affecting Health, 627 
 
 Food of Vegetables, 334 
 Franklin's direction for swimming, 148 
 
 Frequent Settlements, 219 
 
 Frolics of Young Animals, 163 
 
 Fruit- Trees, directions for, 611 
 
 Funerals in Ancient Times, 292 
 
 Gambling, the evils of it, 161 
 
 Garden, the profits of it, 177 
 
 Garden, location and Soil, 175 
 
 Gardens for Farmers, 174 
 
 Genteel, what is meant by it, 200 
 
 Gentility, false and spurious,' 200 
 
 Geology, 31 
 
 Gingerbread, how to be Made, ' 557 
 
 Girls and Boys ought to Swim,, 1'16 
 
 Good Cookery important, 204 
 
 Good Habits, 68 
 
 Good Home, the value of it, 226 
 
 Good Living, 52 
 
 Good Living in the Country, 188 
 
 Good Roads and Bridges, 95 
 
 Gooseberries and Culture, 435 
 
 Grapes, History and Culture, 436 
 
 Great Crops of Indian Corn, 406 
 
 Guano, 378 
 
 Gypsum for Manure, 389 
 Habits of Fiefleo. when at Labor, 138 
 
 Happiness the Object of Life, 155 
 
 Happiness of Man, 193 
 
 Hardships of the Farmer, 181 
 
 Health of Laboring Men, ' 109 
 
 Haymaking, 184 
 
 Head Of the Family, 52 
 
 Health Promoted by Bathing, 141 
 
 Heat for Germination of Seeds, 333 
 
 Heavy Taxes, 190 
 
 Holydays, the design of them, 167 
 
 Hops and their Culture, 151 
 
 Page. 
 Horses and Cattle, care of them, 186 
 Horses and Mules of the "West, 323 
 Hospitality of a Virginia Sheriff, 301 
 How to Prevent liitemperance, 109 
 How to Preserve Health, 97 
 
 How Merchants get their Money, 86 
 How much each one consumes, 85 
 How Rum should be used, 107 
 
 How to make an evening pleasant, 77 
 How can, a Farmer Become Rich, 248 
 How to Live Prettily in the Coun- 
 try, 199 
 How a Farmer cannot become rich,253 
 How to Reclaim a Brother, 78 
 How to Sleep Well, 629 
 Husband, Etymology of the term, 192 
 Hydrogen and its Agency, 336 
 Hygeian Economy, 624 
 Ipdeptodence in the Country, 18 
 Ignorance of the Science of Agri- 
 culture, 21 
 Increase of "Western Commerce, 324 
 Indian Corn, or Maize, 403 
 India Rubber Goods for Farmers, 520 
 Inexperienced Farmers, 327 
 Infant Education, d-i 
 Influence of Religion on Families, 131 
 Influence of the Bible, 303 
 Illiterate Farmer, 71 
 Immersion in Water, how long, 144 
 Immoralities in the City, 187 
 Inorganic Substances, 337 
 Importance of Moral Principle, 33 
 Importance of Exercise, 100 
 Improvements to be Made in Ag- 
 riculture, 61 
 Insensibility of Drunkards, 113 
 Insurance against loss by Fire, 212 
 Intemperance of Eating, 110 
 Intemperance of Laborers, 104 
 Knowledge acquired on a Farm, 60 
 Labor relieved by Study, 140 
 Laboring Farmers, 80 
 Ladders for the Prevention of 
 
 Fires, 210 
 
 Lady-like Manners, 71 
 
 Lahd of our Birth, 149 
 
 Lard Oil of the West, 322 
 
 Laudable Ambition in the "Wife, 204 
 
CONTESTS AND INDEX. 
 
 653 
 
 Page. 
 256 
 
 45 
 309 
 
 30 
 394 
 152 
 
 Laudable Pride in a Farmer, 
 Learning and Edncation, 
 Leaving Home, 
 Lectures on Agriculture, 
 Leguminous Crops, 
 Leisure Hours, how to be used, 
 Liine and its Agency in Vegeta- 
 
 - tion, 352 
 
 Liniments and Salves, 542 
 
 Local Attachments, 220 
 
 Local Politics, 94 
 
 Lpg Cabin Bathing, 143 
 
 Longevity of the Horse, 594 
 
 Lord Bacon, his Counsel, 156 
 
 Losses of the Merchant, 155 
 Mutual Insurance, the Principle 
 
 of it, 212 
 ■Marriage the tie of Friendship, 140 
 Magnanimity of Washington, 106 
 Magnesia and its Agency in Veg- 
 etation, 353 
 Manure for Wheat, - 409 
 Means for Mental Improvement, 132 
 Means for Improving Soils, 362 
 Meat, Directions for it, 573 
 Medical Attendance, 97 
 Melancholy Case of 'a Young 
 
 Lady, 289 
 
 Men Indebted to their Mothers, 67 
 
 Merchants Make Good Fanners, 15 
 
 Merchants and Fanners, 84 
 
 The Mind Improved by Bathing, 142 
 
 Mind Affected by Intemperance, 114 
 
 Mineral Manures, 385 
 
 Minerals of the Western States, 320 
 
 Mistakes of Women about Dress, 75 
 
 Model Farm for Colleges, 38 
 
 Modest Farmer, 321 
 Monotonous Appearances and 
 
 Attitudes, 139 
 
 Monotony of Female Occupation, 170 
 
 Moral Influence of Cemeteries, 296 
 
 Mortgage on Labor, v^hat is it ^ 218 
 
 Mother's Agency, 69 
 
 Mother, the, and her offspring, 50 
 
 Mothers and Daughters, 75 
 
 Mothe?'s Influence, 61 
 
 Muscular Health, how Promoted, 162 
 
 National Treasures, 92 
 
 Page. 
 Neat and Cheap Dress, 74 
 
 Neatness in Farming 150 
 
 Necessity for Amuse'ts in the Cit), 164 
 Negative Pleasures in Country, 181 
 Negligence of Table unpardouable,205 
 Never-go-Eack, 177 
 
 Night Soil, 379 
 
 Nitrogen and its Agency, 337 
 
 Norman Schools, * 39 
 
 Oats and ,thcir Culture, 417 
 
 Obj's to Book-Farming considered, 10 
 Obligations of Gov. to Farmers, 89 
 Ocean's Treasures, the, 42 
 
 Ohio Coal-fields, 320 
 
 Old Familiar Fa.rm-Houso, 413 
 
 Onion, Culture and Use, 474 
 
 Only a few large Prizes, 166 
 
 Oxen for Farm Teams, 507 
 
 Oxygen and its Agency, 336 
 
 Palatable Food, 102 
 
 Parsnip, culture and Use, 477 
 
 Pastry bad for Health, 103 
 
 Patience Sorrowful, 243 
 
 Pea and its Culture, 441 
 
 Peaty Soils, 360 
 
 Periodical Literature, 647 
 
 Perseverance, 191 
 
 Personal Anecdote, 134 
 
 Peter Temperance, 241 
 
 Philosopher's Scales, 178 
 
 Philosophy of Digestion, 110 
 
 Physical Education, 39, 159 
 
 Picturesciiie Mountain Scene, SCO 
 Piggery, Prof. Mapes' Plan for, 384 
 Plants in Northern Latitudes, 359 
 Ploughman's Ready Wit, 123 
 
 Political Hints to Farmers, 91 
 
 Poor la the Country, 2;35 
 
 Poor,the, how are they to manage, 219 
 Popular errors about Agriculture; 13 
 Popular Instruction, 216 
 
 Position of the American Farmer, 154 
 American Industry, 1^6 
 
 Potato, its Culture and History, 454 
 Poultices, how to make them, 533 
 Poudrette, ^^ 
 
 Practical Philosophy, 24 
 
 Prejudice against Swimming, 146 
 
654 
 
 CONTENTS AND INDEX. 
 
 Preparation to Emigrate^ 309 
 
 Preserves, different Mnda, 562 
 
 Preservation of Health, 97 
 
 Pretty House, what is it, 202 
 
 Professed Politioians, 93 
 
 Prof. Men, what is said of thein, 180 
 
 Professor Mapes on Manures, 375 
 
 Profitable Parmln*, 153 
 
 Profits of the Merehant, 155 
 
 Progress of Vegetation, 190 
 Proper duties of the Farmer's ■Wife,53 
 
 Proner Studies for Farmers, 29 
 
 Proffiction of American Labor, 92 
 Public worship promotes humility, 128 
 
 Public worship not burdensome, 129 
 
 Puddings, Different Kinds, 567 
 Pulpit Eloquence in the Country, 196 
 
 Qualifications of Schoolmasters, 30 
 Quantity of Wheat raised in U. S. 410 
 
 Quarrelsome Wife, Si 
 
 Quicklime for Compost Manures, 389 
 
 Raspberry and its Culture, 484 
 
 Kainbow, the, 111 
 Religious Influence in the Country, 121 
 
 Repulsive traits of Agriculture, 183 
 
 Respectability of Laborers, 86 
 
 Resources of the "West, 318 
 
 Rest for Vegetable growth, 125 
 
 Rest for Hired Laborers, 167 
 
 Reward of the Farmer's labor, 137 
 
 Rheumatism, how cured, 543 
 
 Rice and its Culture, 422 
 
 Rich Farmer in Connecticut, 251 
 
 Riches of Job, 249 
 
 Riches of the Bedouin Arabs, 250 
 
 Roller in Agriculture, 396 
 Rotation of Crops, 22, 391 
 
 Rum Distilleries, 107 
 
 Rural Architecture, 646 
 
 Rural Economy, receipts for, 591 
 
 Rural Felicity, 47 
 
 Rye and its Use, 411 
 
 Sabbath, relative tO Rest, 166 
 
 Sad Condition, 178 
 
 Safe Investment, 186 
 Schoolmasters giving Ag. Lectures 43 
 
 Seaborn Deacon, 272 
 
 Seaborn*s, Jud^e, Speech, 280 
 
 Seasons for Rest, 166 
 
 Selling best Articles of Food, 103 
 
 Seeds for a Garden, 176 
 Shakspeare's Opinion of Agricul., 19 
 
 Sheds for Farmers, 173 
 
 Sister's Influence, 16 
 
 Sleeping, Economy, 617 
 
 Slaughter-houses of Cincinnati, 321 
 
 Slovenly habits among Farmers, 151 
 
 Social Excrescences, 231 
 
 Social Influence, 220 
 
 Social Influences from Religion, 123 
 
 Social Positioii of , Young Men, 60 
 
 Society, what is said of it, 189 
 Soils Known by their Productions; 356 
 Solomon's apothegms on amuse'ts, 160 
 
 Sons of Farmers, 56 
 
 Spruce and other Beer, liow made, ^85 
 
 Spurious Gentility, 102 
 Schoolmasters to furnish amuse'ts, 16S 
 
 Statesman, the, not to be envied, 157 
 
 Strawberry and its Culture, 481 
 
 Sublimity of Nature, 122 
 
 Sugar, its History and Culttiie, 432 
 
 Subsoils, what are they 1 343 
 
 Subsoil Ploughing^ 400 
 
 Sukey Primfa«e, 239 
 
 Sunday Morning Scene, 129 
 
 Superior Young Lady, 68 
 
 Swimming, its importance, 145 
 
 Swimming easily learnt, 146 
 
 Swine in. the United States,'' 502 
 
 Sympathy in -Public Worship, 128 
 
 Systematized Order in Labor, 126 
 
 Tabfe Fjirniture, 205 
 
 Tea-parties in the Coun;bry, 170 
 
 Teeth, their Preservation, 531 
 
 TbaMisgiving in the Countryj 267 
 
 Theatrical Amusements, 162 
 
 Theory against Practice, 202 
 Tobacco, its History and Culture, 429 
 
 Toils and Pleasures of Rural Life, 179 
 
 Tomatoes, their Use, 558 
 
 Tool-shops for FarmerSj 171 
 
 Tools, what kinds wanted, 172 
 
 Tool-shop, the economy of it, 173 
 
 Total Abstinence, 106 
 
 Training of Children^ 63 
 
 Transits of Cotton, 89 
 
 Transits of Flour, 88 
 
 Treatment of Hired Laborers, 260 
 
 Trees, their Physiology, 488 
 
 Trees for Cemeteries, 294' 
 
 Turnips, Culture and Use, 466 
 
 Uses of Logio,^ 91 
 
 Utility of Agriculture, 157 
 
 Value of Christian institutions, 123 
 
 Veg. Excep. to ti-en. Principles, 340 
 
 Vegetable instinct, 645 
 
 Vegetable Physiologjl-j 326 
 
 Vernal Equinox, its effects, 182 
 
 Visit to our Native Place, 225 
 
 Wagons and Carts for Farmers, 511 
 
 Walter Scott's advice to his Son, 68 
 
 Waste of Time, 70 
 
 Water, how to be provided, 210 
 
 Wealth of a Country, 82 
 
 Weekly Ablutions and Rest, 124 
 
 Weeping Willow, 197 
 
 Western Missionaries, 304 
 
 Western Emigrants, adviee to, 307 
 
 Western Pioneers, 297 
 
 Wheat Culture, ~ 407 
 
 Winter, the leisure of the Farmei", 185 
 
 Wives of Farmers, 48 
 
 Women in Olden Times, 54 
 
 Women with False Notions, 101 
 
 Women, their C[uick perceptions, 170 
 
 Women, their taste for garded^, 176 
 
 Women in country need amuse'ts, 168 
 
 Worldly Happiness, ' 122 
 
 Yeast, how made, 664 
 
Books eecsnxly published bt debet a milleh. 
 
 The Lives of Mary and Martha, mother and 
 wife of Washington : by Margaret C. Conkling, 
 with a steel portrait, 18mo, scarlet cloth. 
 
 t,m,in°=?°,l!''"'"'?' ■"'"? '^ * daughter ef Judge' Conkling of Auburn, is favorably 
 „ a;Li„ >, lu^"', '^ °' Harper's Iranslation of "I'-lorian's History of the MoorH 
 oTiS.,!?; „ "^''.^'^''Wo'e" Isabel, or the Trials of the Heart." In the nreparaiioii 
 ri/.i J'fh ^ little volume she has done a praiseworthy deed, and we hope she wiU 
 receive the reward she merits. She has taught us in tile work 
 
 " how divine a thing 
 A woman may be made." 
 Tlic mother and wife of Washington were, in many respects, model women, and 
 uie daughters 01 America will do well to study tlieir character — which is hnelj 
 drawn on these pages.— Literary Messenger. 
 
 This beautifully printed and elegantly bound little work, reflecting the highest 
 credit upon the aiilll and task of the oublishers, contains biographical sketches of 
 Mary, the mother, and Martha, ihe wiTe of the Father of his country. It is a most 
 valuable contribution to the history pf the American people, embracing not only iha 
 great public events of the century during which the subjects lived, but those pictures 
 of home life, and that exhibition of social manners and customs, which cunstiiulo 
 the most important part of life, but wh^ch, from the fact of their apparent triviality 
 and intangibility, tne historian generally passes over. The authoress evidently 
 aynipathises earnestly with her subject, and feels that in the exhibition of those 
 womanly viirtues which characterized the heroines of her najTative, she makes thfl 
 most eloquent plea in favor of the dignity of her sex. R is dedicated to Mrs. Wm 
 H. Seward, and contains* finely executed engraving of the wife of Wasliingtoijj 
 We cordially commend it to the public, and most especially our lady readers.-* 
 Syracuse Journal. 
 
 This acceptable and well written volume goes forth upon a happy mission, 
 
 " To .teach us how divine a thing 
 
 A woman may bo made," 
 by unfolding those charms of character which belong to the mother and wife of tlrt 
 hero of tlie Land of the Free; and in the companionship of which, while they illus- 
 trated the watchful tenderness of a mother, and the confiding afiections of a wile, 
 is shown those influences which made up the moral sentiments of a man, whose 
 moral grandeur will be felt in all that is future in government or divine in 
 
 filiilosophy ; and one whose name is adored by all nations, as the leader of man in 
 n the progress of government, to that perfection of human rights where all enjoy 
 liberty and equality. To say that Mifls Conkling has fulfilled the task she says a 
 *' LOO partial friendship has assigned her " faultlessly, would perhaps be loo 
 unmeasured praise, for perfection is .seldom attained ; b,ut it will not be denied but 
 thill her biographies are traced in the chaste elegances that belong to the finished 
 periods of a refined style, which fascinates the reader with what she has thus contri' 
 buied to our national literature. 
 
 The design of the volume is, to picture a mother fitting the " Father of hi« 
 Country " in a light full of the inexhaustible nobleness of Woman's nature, and yet 
 as possessing that subdued and quiet simplicity,' Where Truth becomes the Hope on 
 which Faith looks at the future with- a smile. The mother of Washington was 
 tried in a school of practice where frugal habits and active industry were combined 
 with the proverbial excellences of those Virginia matrons, who were worthy mothers 
 of such men as Washington, Jefferson, Marshall, and Henry. Miss C. has pictured 
 with fidelity and elegance, her views of this remarkable woman ; not less beauii' 
 fully has she sketched the character of Martha, the Wife ; following her from her 
 brilliant manners as the yirginia belle, through the various phases of her lile, she 
 gives a rapid, but comprehensive view of those characteristics which make up the 
 iulet refinement of manners native to her, and which ever gave her the reputatioil 
 of an accomplished wife and lady. And with peculiar delicacy Miss Conkling has 
 portrayed the thousand virtues with which she embellished a home; her amiabW 
 Sisposltion and winning manners made the happiest to tire purest and best Df ail 
 MQ fame has chosen for its noblest achieyments.- Syracuse Star. . 
 
BOOKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY DERBY A MILLER. 
 
 The Life of the Empress Josephine, first "wife 
 of Napoleon. By, P. C. Headley. 12mo., pp. 378. 
 Derby, Miller & Co., Auburn, New York. 
 
 There are few of the female characters of modern history whose lives ahound with 
 ninre interesting events than that of the Empress Josephine. Her whole course was 
 one of romantic, and also nf tragic interest. If the ijiustrioua husband was eminent, 
 far above all other men of his time, for vast mtellect and prodigious achievements, 
 Josephine peemed, in the more lofty and majestic traits of character, to transcend ihe 
 most distinguished of her female cotemporaries. Lilte her husband, she is a great 
 -subject for biography. Many memoirs have been written of her, possessing more or 
 leas nierit, but none have been without interest. The author of the preseni book has, 
 we think, been very successful. It is by far the most interesting history pf Josephine 
 that we have yet seen. He seems to have had recourse to the best sources for his 
 materials, which he has combined and put together with skill and judgment. His 
 style is flowing, elegant, and often eloquent. In short, it is a book well worth read- 
 ing. It will not fail to attract the public attention. As to the mechanical execution 
 of rhe book, it is but justice to the proprietors to say, that it will compare favorably 
 with the productions of the press ol any city in the Union. It contains a fine mezzo- 
 tint portrait of Josejjhine, showing a beauty of person equalled only by the moral 
 grandeur of her character. — Washington Union. 
 
 It is not without its sparkling gems. Occasional flashes of thought make the rea- 
 der pause to contemplate their freshness and beauty, and reveal a well-stored mmd 
 in sympathy with ihe noblest human traits, in close communion with the glories of 
 nature. His text, too, is happily chosen. Who has jiot felt a lingering, peculiar, 
 undefinable interest in the highly extraordinary and tragic career of the Empress 
 Josephine 1 Would it not extend this notice loo far, we#hould like to touch the more 
 prominent of^ the many event/ut passages which marked the history of this remark- 
 nblc child ofsuperstition, to gaze for a moment upon the vascillating star of her des- 
 tiny, and trace its luminous ascent from thfe veriest depths of agonizing gloom and 
 despair, lo'the loftiest pinacle of worldly splendor and renown, where she grasped 
 for a moment the fleeting phantom of happme^s, only to sink again into the arms of 
 misfortune, and feel still more keenly the bitter pangs of adversity. Hut all this will 
 be found in a very readable form in this interesting volume, and we cheerfully com- 
 tnend v w notice.— Utiea Observer. 
 
 We do not know of a biography of this important and interesting personage, so 
 complete in its Jiistoric details, and so congenial to the sjiirit of her life, as this : 
 while it has also the advantage of a popular style, and of that view of the subject 
 which accords with the general sentiment. Mr. Headley writes in a clear, well-sus- 
 tained and engaging style— evidently entertaining a warm approbation ofliis subject, 
 and alive to the sublimity and purity of her Mia. Treating of one of the most impor- 
 tant epochs ol' French history, the work is finely adapted to enlist the interest of the 
 n^ader. and to supply a kind and degree of information not readily accessible else- 
 where. It cnn hardly fail of proving a highly popular, as it is a highly creditable 
 work.— iV. Y. Ecangelist. 
 
 The writer of this book is a brother of J, T. Headley, the author of " Napoleon and 
 nis Marshals" -" Washington and his Generals," &c. There is a strong family re- 
 semblance between the two. The qualities which have given such a wide celejbrity 
 tn thn one, seem to be fully enjoyed by the pthcr. Both brothers are characterized 
 by that peculiar vividness and, so to speak, infensily of style which always makes a 
 bonk readable and interesting.' The '• Life of Josephine" possesses much of this pe- 
 culiar chaim. The author has studied his subject well and could hardly have chosen 
 a better one to write upon. Josephine is a charmed name to many hearts. There 
 are few who do not feel an interest in her singularly eventful career. At first the 
 daughter of a West India planter, — then the wife of a French nobleman,— anon tna 
 consort of Gen. Bonaparte and afterwards Empress of France ; — her picture presents 
 us with a scene of coristantly increasing brightness, where the dark shades never 
 chase away the light, till we behold her ending a career of dazzling splendor as a'de- 
 throned Empress and repudiated wife. Josephine was in many respects a model of a 
 Woman.— ilm/iersf Express. 
 

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