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92 



^l)c jTarmerjJgo ntliln bisi tor. 



of pyrmi.i.l.s 8 l.y 5 fret nt the ^'»se. A tni 1 f". 

 iTi;ikiii" woi-.<t.Ml >mhI cm-i.fi lillin-, 240 It-et Icii-, | 

 l)y 52 feet vvi.le, 5 .storirs lii;;li, lo sliiiid ii|imi \Uv 

 .M-oiiiid HOW ornipicd liy llif |. resent c;ir|.et mill. 

 A iimcliineslioii. 140 Icet I,.!.;.', liy 4G ,M,le,3 .<i<)- 

 ries lii;;li. A store-lioii.-ie, iilnJiit 400 tret Iniij.', hy 

 24 wide, 1 slorv. A roiaiiiiitrinnise, imd Inr oili- 

 er puriioses, iiiio.it lUO (eel loii!:, liy 24 wide, 1 

 Btniy. And prnliiddy t'ome two or tliiee l.locks 

 of liouses. — Lowell Courier. 



The new Ciii|iel Power Loom, invented hy Mr. 

 Bigelow, is an iMJ|.iovei)iPiit the exchisive use of 

 whieh would en.-ihle iisowner.s lo nioiiopolize the 

 eurpet m.inufcicti.ie of the world. Al.ont a year 

 since we saw iliene power looms in operulion on 

 the two and three fly rnrpels alongside ofthear- 

 cuslomed looms coiidiicted hy tlie hand work o( 

 Bkiir.il men trained in ihe best carpet factories of 

 England. A single girl on ihe power loom would 

 dn'the work of two or three experienced men. 

 Ahont fifty looms hud then Iieen prepared for the 

 Lowell mills: one of these complicated machines 

 in other times would be considered to do a great 

 business in carpet weaving. Two hundred and 

 twenty-four of them might manufacture carpets 

 sufficient for the ll^o of the whole country. It 

 should no longer siirpi ise us that the cheapening 

 of such 6 luxurious article as the belter kind of 

 carpets creates n demand for the article equal to 

 the additional supply. The power loom reduc- 

 in" every thing to a mathematical certainty, 

 makes a bettor and more uiiilorni carpet than the 

 hand loom. Every step taken by the govern- 

 ment for opening Hade is an encouragement to 

 American nianiifaclnrcii contributing lo their en- 

 largement in any possible extent; and this great 

 carpet estahlislimeni is destined to consume mill- 

 ions of pounds of the fleeces of sheep the best 

 of all adapted lo this northern climate. 



05=" Mr. Samuel Whitney, resident on the i>re- 

 lliises of the editor of the Visitor, has the best 

 email garden in ihe town : he works this and oth- 

 er gardens with his own right hand, having by 

 ori-iilent been deprived several years since of the 

 left. Upon a pint of less than a square rod he 

 informs us that he had obtained a clear profit of 

 twenty-one dollars prior to the middle of June in 

 a crop of head lettuce. This lettuce was from 

 seed sown since the opening of the present spring 

 in the open air, transplant! <1 in the bed from 

 which it was taken. lie was f>n particular as lo 

 count the plants set out lo the immlier of 750.— 

 His sales commenced in the monlh of May at fuiir 

 cents u head, .-illd coiiliniied at lliree cents. The 

 IHiMic houses were supplied by liim daily: and 

 Whitney's lettuce at a higher price was preferred 

 to tlie best lctturi> Iriini Bosloii and the Soiilh, the 

 growth prohahly of hot-beds. The amount of 

 sales over 700, and over3 cents per head, paid for 

 jMiirmgand marketing; and the bed itself jne- 

 piired for cucumbers already above ground is 

 worlh for the second cmp the price of the labor 

 of the whole year. 



1 tract IVpim a corres|.o!idence with the N. Y. Tt 

 bune a place, premising that wc ourselves have a 

 ptMsoiial recollection of the good Col. Holmes, 

 abhough we have not hud the gratification to vis- 

 it the "great «ide pastures on the hills" which 

 h« cleared. 



" 1 told you (says the 'Old Man ' of the Frun- 

 conia Noldi prrsonaieil) about some of our law- 

 yers. I've a gooil mind to tell you of onr farm- 

 ers here. I will about one 1 have in my memo- 

 orv's eye— for he is dead, lie wasn't liorn in 

 New llampsliire. lie came from Oonniclicut. 

 ile lived just below me here, in a little, hard town, 

 called Campion. 1 don't know, friend Tribune, 

 as you'll like to have me tell you of our old farm- 

 ers, living in a thick-settled, popular place as you 



do, and Vii'"i"f! " l'"l"^'' '''"^''y ''''-^- ^'." -'"" 

 havn't a man in all York State, much less m your 

 town, that yon would have said, if you had known 

 him 'was a" likelier man, or a better man, or more 

 o/om<(H, than Col. Holmes of Campton ! Col. 



Sam Holmes! 



all hut the Colonel. That I don't 

 think anvihing of — nor he didn't, though it was 

 just after the ohl llevolntionary War, when it was 

 something to be a Colonel, to what it is now.— 

 Thev forced it on to him. Any way, old Col. 

 Holmes was one of the likeliest men, 1 don't 

 know but I may say the very likeliest, 1 have ev- 

 er seen among men. Though he was, all his 

 days, a fiirmer here among the rocks, and scarce 

 ever went oft" his farm fi)r fifty years. He begun 

 down in Campton, when there had hardly been a 

 stroke struck in the woods. There was n bitle 

 spot of clearing, 1 believe, on the lot he'd went 

 on to— and a log barn had been put up on it.— 

 lie and his wife lived in the iiarn all summer, the 

 first snmmir they came up here Irom Coniiecti- 

 cnt. They come all the way— he a-foot with his 

 axe on his shoulder, and she a-horse-back, with 

 the bed bound on behind her, and the copper 

 kettle hanging by the old mare's side. It was all 

 they had, iiiKfthe roads wa'n't near so g.iod tl en 

 as I'hey are now. Col. Holmes was a young man 

 ,|if,i,^jusl ' out of his time.' He lived on that 



Canadian Timbkb Trabe.— Owing to the 

 drought in Canad.i Ivist, there is too lillle water 



in the streams to fio.it the timber to market, I 



the (irospeei is that a large porlion cut during ihe 

 jiast winter will have to remain on the ground. 



The Connecticut Miin in Hew llamiisliirc. 



We have seen much fiom the "Chi Man of the 

 Mountain" in years past not worth reading; but 

 in tin; style of exaggeration and affected carelevs 

 quaintness if the following be exceptionable, 

 such is the respect we feel for the pioneer farm- 

 ers w ho first cleared our forests and from the soil 

 gathered the sole means of making all comforta- 

 ble around ihcm, that we give the following ex- 



land filiy years, and died on it. He was hardly 

 ever out of town or off his farm. They teased 

 him to go to General Court one year, 1 believe, 

 1)111 couldn't make him go again. 'Itwassmnll 

 business,' he said, Mijr anybody that had any oth- 

 er to mind.' And he said ' it was a bad thing to 

 have so many laws, ami lo be tinkering them over 

 so often.' lie cared nothing about ofiice, or pol- 

 itics, (U- parties. He said hut little, but what he 

 said was always right. He was as sensible a man, 

 frienil Tribune, as ever lien Franklin was, and a 

 much belter man to my mind— and a greater 

 take all the circumstances. He lived there, all 

 alone as it were, and cleared up bis tiirm,aiid did 

 an amount of good there, all unpraised and un- 

 seen, and fiir tiie sheer good and beauty of it, as 

 I hardly believe Ben Franklin was man enough 

 to have'done. He had a grand old-tiishioned farm, 

 and grew fbrehanded and finally rich, without 

 everlrvliii; to, or caring anything about mcmey. 

 lie never drove his men, and never hurried them, 

 except at table, and then not to have them get 

 done. 'Come,' he woulil say, '.ill bands take hold 

 — th.'re's enough.' And it was royal to see him 

 silting at the head of his old long kitchen table, 

 with his twenty men, and as much the equal of the 

 humblest of them all as he could possibly be, 

 wilh his i;real, lienerons heart and piiiici'ly head. 

 He had a head, (i lend Tribune, worth going a jour- 

 ney to see— an <dil Connecticut, Roger Sherman 

 sort of head, by the tell— lia- 1 never saw i{oger 

 Sherman's head— though 1 have Col. Iloline.s' 

 w hen be Wiia at work barc-headeil, in his field 

 among his icen. It wasn't a head like Daniel 

 WehsTer's or'Zekiel's— not one of tho-e high, 

 precipice sort of he;uls. It was a middling fore- 

 head fin- hei:;hi, but wide and beautifully pitched 

 —a sort of Iwnesl man's fiireliead, and head cov- 

 ered i>ver wilh hair as fine as silk, and laying in 

 tufts, like fealhers on the neck of an eagle— and 

 alouj; alter hi^ was sixty, as while as Moosehil- 

 lock of a November morning. 



" It was princely to .«ce the old man working 

 about among Ihe men. Ile had a small grey eye 

 — all sense and honesty— and looked as if he 

 couldn't bear anything ungenerous or small.— 

 And ihat was hi's nature. His leading trait of 

 character was a great generosity. And there 

 never was his equal, to my knowledge, utnong 



I the [K.or people. 1 never saw anything equal to 

 the way he would help the poor. ' Give him good 

 measure, Daviil,' the old man would say lo a queer 

 sort of man that always lived with him, and who 

 used lo say the Colonel lived with Mih— 'give 

 him good measure— don't streak it-he's come h 

 good ways, and there's enoni;h of it.' He always 

 had a plenty of com, the scarcest years. Tlie 

 liarih, as if aware of his great nature, never put 

 him oft" with a stingy harvest. He never, those 

 years, would sell a kernel of corn t» iinvbody 

 i ihat could laiiig the money fiir il. He said 'there 

 were the poor round, that couldn't pay, that n list 

 be seen lo.' And to them he turned out the yel- 

 low corn, and the hay. With his barns ftdl, in 

 the scarcest seasons, he never would sell a lock 

 of hay to aiiyhody but the poor— and lo them al- 

 ways at the prices of timesof ideniy, and to 'pay 

 in work when they cnulrl.' He used to take their 

 liltle old due bills for it, payable ' in help,' and 

 never call on Ihem— though tiiey generally re- 

 memliered to turn out and help him ^^ hen it 

 come hay time. But nuinhers of the old due- 

 bills were found among the old man's few papers, 

 after his deatli, writ in his own plain, honest 

 hand— not after any business fi.rm- and always 

 spelt so as to be understood, and many of them 

 yellow with age. He wasn't what ymi call n 

 tender-hearted man, that he was so considerate 

 of the poor. It was generosity and sheer great- 

 ness. He felt it beneath a man 'ihat anybody 

 should sufl"er when there was enough'— and he 

 knew ' they hadn't calculation enough many o 

 them, to bring the year about, especially the cold 

 seasons,' and he said ' they must be seen to. — 

 And he did see to them, the glorious old man.— 

 It wasn't fur the name of doMig ii— for he ilidn't 

 se'in 10 know anything about the ?inmf of dmng 

 things. And it wasn't for salvation— ' giving^to 

 the pool' because it was ' lending to the Lord.-— 

 lie wasn't a religions man— that is, never made 

 a profession. Religions people about him didn't 

 like it that h" didn't, thcnuh their cliief uneasi- 

 ness was that he always did so well that it made 

 them appear to disadsantage. He always was 

 li-ht in all he did and said. 1 don't believe he 

 said or did a single wrong thing, or a thing that 

 was out of the way, or that was tinhaiidsorne,all 

 the time he lived in Cam|>lon. All tliat lime,(or 

 liliy years, no man ever said a tuud word against 

 hin'i.' And il grew to a proverb, that a man's 

 ' word was as good as Col. Holmes'.' 



'• 1 shmdd love to tell you, friend Tribune, how 

 it looked where he lived. His good old house— 

 1 tiuiret wiiether it was ever painted— set up on 

 a rising ground just in South of a beech wood, 

 at the head of a long meadow, the clear little 

 Beebe's river running through it, and the great 

 wiile pastures on the hills that bor.lered it. Il is 

 all in plain sight from here, and within thirty 

 miles. The hills covered wilh cattle and long- 

 tailed colt.--. But the dear ohl man is dead, and 

 the people never were sorrier for anything that 

 took place in that region. 



" 1 havn't made up a story here to tell you, friend 

 Tribune, nor colored it any, nor told you half the 

 truth, ihough Col. Holmes'never went to College, 

 nor to ("(Migi-ess, nor to General Court (more than 

 mice, if he did that,) and was nothing but n 

 working, home farmer, all his days. Ask the old 

 people of Campion, and the young people too, 

 and they'll all tell you it is just as I've told you— 

 only more so. Tear.s of ailmiration come to my 

 heart when 1 remember the beautiful, honest ohl 

 man. He w;is a great man too— us great as 

 Washington would have been, alone then,- on that 

 Cauipt(U) (arm,— but glorious most for Ins Ho.v- 

 FSTV, and his providiiii: for the poor. But he was 

 only a farmer. I thiiik the more ol lum (or 

 that." 



SiiRiNKi.NC! OF CoiiN.— The Genesee tarmer 

 xavsthat a bushel of shelled corn will shrink, 

 from the time il is usually harvested till thor- 

 oughly dry, about 2-J per ceni.in bulk. Hence 

 in >tatemtiits of large crops you must usually 

 discount about one-filih. 



Pnont'CE.— The Buffalo Conunercial Advcrliacr, 

 siys—q-he Inisineas trnnsiictea nt the cnnal ollicc hero 

 last week, was oae of ihc l.irgest ever known, ^o 

 lfs<i thnn JC2 boats cleared with piocluce, &c., _nnd 

 Ihe lolla anioiintcd to the full rouu.l sum of ^3(>,< .4. 

 More con, went down Kusl during the week than was 

 cximrled from this ciiv .luring the whole of last seusoii, 

 and yesterday, 83,000 bushels more were shipped. 



