CLOVERNOOIC 



rent of $100, and whose annual product was $400, show for the year 1851, a total re- 

 ceipt account of $4,852.51 — which, against a total expense account, (of farm and family,) 

 of $2,174.85, leaves a clear net profit for one j'ear, of $2,078.16, And during the five 

 3'ears he has been about this course of improvement, he has erected anew and substantial 

 dwelling house, farm buildings, and fences; paid all the interest and part of the principal, 

 besides the last year's profits. 



If any body after this, says there is nothing to be learned in farming — that intelligence 

 and system applied to agriculture, will not, even under the most unfavorable circumstan- 

 ces, produce the same favorable results as when applied to any other practical business ; 

 if any body says that the " worn out" lands of the Atlantic states need any thing but 

 a master, i. e., a man who finds out and respects nature's laws, not ignores and despises 

 them, we turn him over to such men as Mr. More. His success is a better appeal to the 

 state to educate the farmers generall}^, by a practical scliool, than all the speeches that 

 will be made on the subject in the legislature, at three dollars a day, from now till the 

 millennium. Oh, generation of skinners — ignorant earth-robbers and land-pirates, when 

 will you give place to cultivators who look deeper in the furrow than the horses who drag 

 the plough through it! 



Cloveekook, or Recollections of our Neighborhood in the West : By Alice Caret. 



New-York. Redfield, publisher. 

 If any of our town readers, sated with the artificial perfumes of town civilization, have 

 ever strolled into the country some soft, warm morning in June, when the wild grape-vine 

 is in full bloom, and inhaled the delicious odor of its unseen blossoms, floating upon its 

 still air, they will understand how this little volume of Alice Gary's affects us, after the 

 loads of French and English "Society Novels," that are turned out by our great pub- 

 lishing houses by the cart-loads. Natural, sincere, and home-like, as the sight and song 

 of the robin red-breast that skips over the lawn, are the pictures of rural life that it pre- 

 sents to the mind's eye. And it is perhaps in this, that they are painted with the genuine 

 colors of our nature — the foregrounds are the farm pictures of the American settler, the 

 skies are filled with the heat and flush of American harvests, and the fireside conversa- 

 tions are so genuinely homely and truthful, with their mingling of romance and stern re- 

 ality, that they will seem only too natural to be interesting to many of those to whose 

 daily lives the mirror is thus held up. But there is also a feeling of tenderness and beauty 

 which runs through these pages, that gives a poetic charm to the simple stories of rustic 

 life they portray, and bathing there, in that magic atmosphere of genius, which, like the 

 glory of a sunset after a summer shower, makes a paradise of the old familiar landscape. 

 It is curious to see how the truly national literature seems to be developing itself, rath- 

 er in the hands of our female writers, than in the books of our men. Miss Cooper's 

 " Rural Hours," and this volume of Rural Stories by Miss Caret, are two of the most 

 perfect transcripts of rural home life and scenes, that have been wi'itten in any country ; 

 and no one but an American writer, who has lived and breathed the air of our own nature, 

 with a strong feeling of its peculiar life and individuality, could have written such books. 

 By their profound and earnest sj'^mpathy with nature, it is that the female writers seem 

 to have caught the key-note of our Hans de Vaches that has escaped the more highly 

 prized intellectual sufficiency of our authors of the other sex. 



on the advent of such books as these, we look with the greatest satisfaction 

 the most striking fact in America, to observing and thoughtful foreigners, is how 



