A SCENE. 



25 



A SCENE — In a Tent of Agricultural Editors. 



A GREAT Exhibition of the pvoducts of American 

 A^icultural, ManutUcturins; and Mechanical indus- 

 ti-y, being held, as is supposed, at Washington, D. 

 C, under the auspices of the National Institute, 

 on which Congi'ess, after long protracted and 

 shameful delay, had bestowed the Smithsonian 

 Fund — the Editors of the Agi-icultural papers have 

 assembled in the tent appropriated for their use, 

 exchangins friendly greetings, when he of the 

 " Farmers' Librahv," and founder of the old 

 American Fanner, enters, and. being to many of 

 them unknown, thus makes his respectful saluta- 

 tions: 



Friends and Brothers : When a man enters 

 a room unbidden, and, it may be unknown to 

 most of the company, claiming fellowship, and 

 a seat among tliem, commoa courtesy should 

 prompt him to say, with a certain character in 

 tlie farce, " Hope I don't intrude 7" He who 

 now addresses you, however, has the advantage 

 of knowing at least as many of the present com- 

 pany as may suffice to iutroduce him to the rest. 

 When he retired from the corps Editorial, 

 some years since, he could have identified near- 

 ly all who belonged to it. The kindest sort of 

 personal intercourse, or a no less kind inter- 

 change of good will by friendly coiTespondence, 

 had passed — the remembrance of which, he flat- 

 tors himself, may make the renewal of that in- 

 tercourse now, mutually and without exception, 

 agreeable. But, on looking around the room, 

 he cannot but ask himself how it is that, while 

 he left the plow only for a short spell, and even 

 during that time running a furroAV, occasionally, 

 for some old fellow-laborer, that, coming back 

 now to regular work, he finds so many new 

 faces in the same field ? most of them, he thinks, 

 looking smarter and more alert — doing their 

 work in a leetle better style than when he first 

 broke new gi'ound in the old American. Farmer. 

 Dare he flatter himself that these weekly streams 

 and monthly floods, that are pouring their salu- 

 brious waters far and wide to imgate and fruc- 

 tify the land, are but so many issues from the 

 old fountain, opened by him on the 2d of April, 

 1819 ? Are your journals but the produce of 

 that old parent stem, \vhich have sprung up, as 

 the seeds of plants of the class syngenesia, fur- 

 nished with a plume, are, by that admirable 

 mechanism, disseminated far from their parent 

 stem ? or, are they, rather, vigorous shoots, of 

 spontaneous growth — such as genial skies and 

 showers always bring up in the wake of culti- 

 vation, to succeed the coarser herbage of Na- 

 ture ? At all events, their appearance is a proof 

 that the ^vants of Agriculture demanded them. 

 Friends ! 1 rejoice to find mvscll once more in 

 (7.31 



such honest company. To each and all I would 

 fain extend the hand of fellowship ; and why 

 not a hearty greeting for the whole corps Edi- 

 torial — 



" To you, Tom Brown ! and to you, John Brown ! "' 

 as the social song runs ? Have not all an equal 

 interest iu the prosperity and good narje of our 

 common country ? Are we not all seeking to 

 awaken and to gratify a love of knowledge, and 

 with it charity and union T Here are advo- 

 cates from all quarters to guard every Agricul- 

 tural interest and staple, as it is right there 

 should be. 



" Nor yet vrill every soil, vnth equal stores 

 Repay the tiller's labor ; or attend 

 His wiU, obsequious, whether to produce 

 The olive or the laurel." 



There stands friend Breck, from "down 

 East," the noble old Bay State, to tell us, in the 

 New-Englandt Farmer, all about the disease in 

 potatoes ; and there, again, are brotliers Nortli 

 and Phillips, of the " South-Westem Farmer," 

 leaning on their cotton plant, and talking learn- 

 edly of gossipium ; while Botts, fuD of zeal and 

 intelligence, stands midway, ready with his to- 

 bacco-stalk to demolish all the hurnhugs that 

 may come flying along in quick succession, like 

 so many ignes fatni, to delude the honest 

 " Southern planter." Ah ! and there, too, is the 

 vigorous driver of my old team — the Editor of 

 the American Farmer ! Well, I am too glad 

 to see him still upon his legs, and, though he is 

 dressed off in a new suit, he won't give the 

 "cold shoulder" to an old fellow-laborer. He 

 can vouch that in tlie many years that we 

 \vrought iu the vineyard which we planted, and 

 that he has since brought into more perfect 

 bearing, not a line, nor a word, ever escaped 

 us, in expres.sion of party feeling or the provo- 

 cation of ill-blood. Let us all, then, I say — old 

 soldiers and young recruits — unite to keep off 

 tlie rust with which Time, like the worm that 

 gnaws at the root, night and day, would weaken 

 the chain of friendship. The vv'orld is wide 

 enough for all, even though we were not .stretch- 

 ing our anas to grab at once the Cape of Labra- 

 dor and the Halls of the Montezumas. And, 

 moreover, let us remember what we are taught 

 on the highest authority — "Brethren! the time is 

 short." Let mc, then, close this address to brther 

 Editors, of whatever interest or party, by ask- 

 ing one favor. If you would welcome him to put 

 his feeble sickle in the common field, will you 

 please copy this, or otherwi.se proclaim tliat 



