28 



®l)c JTavmcv's iHontl)hj llisitor. 



the charm inlierent to the subject, the arorna of 

 the flowers he loved. Here, I may he allowed, 

 w'iiliout disresslii;,' much, to speak of the harvest 

 of roses wliich always draws to the fields where 

 they are cidtivated, near the Hague, numerous 

 visitors. In the month of May, nothini^ can he 

 imagijied more beautiful than the aspect of those 

 rose fields. The air, filled with the sweet eman- 

 ations, makes you aware of your approach to 

 them, before you come in sight of them, oiu'round- 

 ed as they are by thick live hedges, intended to 

 guard the young buds from the inclement winds. 

 An air of festival spread all around iiroclaims 

 that this is no vulgar field-work. Hundreds of 

 young girls, dressed as if for a village holiday, 

 coiunience the gathering with appropriate songs. 

 The first time I witnessed this novel harvest 

 scene, it seemed like a dream ; I became doubt- 

 ful whether I stood on Batavian ground ; the erhe- 

 rial sweetness inhaled in every breeze, the earth 

 covered, as it were, with a green carpet embroid- 

 ered with roses, the melodious voices of so many 

 young and beautiful girls, would liave indeed 

 wafted the imagination to the milder regions of 

 Greece or Italy, but that the azure eves and gold- 

 en hair of the pretty Rosieres, proclaimed them of 

 Norman race. Those roses gathered in Holland, 

 strange as it may appear, are shipped to Constan- 

 tinople, destined to return to Europe so concen 

 trated by chemical art, that the |)erfume of ten 

 thousand is often used by a lady to scent her em- 

 broidered handkerchief.* 



*The roses are packed up in large hogsheads, in alter- 

 nate layers ol' flowers and salt, and pressed with areat 

 force. It appears tiiat the salt does not destroy the essen- 

 tial oil which contains the aroma of the rose. 



From the American Aizriculturist. 

 Practical Farming. 



Wheatsheaf Farm. — We recently made a 

 visit to the farm of W. A. Seeley, Esq. of Slaten 

 Island. The buildings aie in a style of entire 

 jilainni'ss and simplicity, yet with perfect adapta- 

 tion lo the object in view. A huge and well 

 constructed windmill, of the most substantial 

 kind, occupies one o( the group of farm build- 

 ings, wliich is used during a great part of the 

 year in grinding for this and the neighboring 

 farms. But the peculiar merits of the out build- 

 ings consist in the barns. There are two of 

 them, of lai'ge size, and so couslructerl, as to 

 aflTord the greatest qnanlily of available room. 

 They are both built upon a side hill, thus enabl- 

 ing the loaded hay and grain to be drawn in 

 upon a level wiili the upper side, and the entii-e 

 floor is appropriated to their occupancy, while 

 at the same time that it affords a great abundance 

 of convenient room, saves the trouble of pilcli- 

 iug it high, and furnishes the fodder just where 

 it is wujited to feed into the racks for the stock 

 below. The iniilergrnund room of one is <livi- 

 ded into stalls lor horses on eilher side through 

 its entii-e range, one hundred and thirty feet, and 

 a large gangway, accessible by fohlinir doors at 

 each end, runs through the centre, affoi'ding am- 

 ple room for carls or wagons for removing the 

 manure. Water is admitted at one end through 

 a stop-cock from a pond above, forming a reser- 

 voir from the drains. Commodious yards ad- 

 joining, afford space fiu" exercising the animals. 

 This b:u'u is exjiressly desisriied for stabling su- 

 jicrmuuBrary horses from this city through ilie 

 winter, yet its construction admits of its being 

 used to equal advantage for any other slock. The 

 other barn, being designed for cattle and sheep, 

 is open on the south, and the other three sides 

 are occupied with racks for the stock, which are 

 divided, when necessary, by |>artitiiMis and en- 

 closures. 



But the partii-ular advantage of these barns, 

 consists in the adiiiirable contrivani'e afforded liu' 

 the accunndation .and economical preservation of 

 the mamire. Under shelter from the washing 

 rains and exhausting sun, well mixed with 

 earthy and vegetable tnatter, it is here retained 

 till it can be advantageously applied to the land. 

 Between, and contiguous to the barns, is a tank 

 capable of holding twenty-five thousand gallons, 

 which is the receptacle of those enriching liquids 

 of the i'arm yard, without the retention and care- 

 ful application of which, to the growing crops or 

 stercoiated heap, no farming arrangement can be 

 ileeme<l complete. An outlet near ll/e to|) con- 

 ducts off the surplus liquid to a heap of compo.st, 

 if it rises too high before requited for use, by 



which it is absorbed. At all other times the cis- 

 tern is emptied by sheet iron buckets attached to 

 a revolving iron chain, and propelled either by 

 the windmill, or if necessary, l)y horse-power, the 

 shaft geering into either as required. 



No particle of animal or vegetable manure 

 produced upon the farm is allowed to be wasted. 

 All is preserved and added to the general stock 

 of compost. The necessity of resorting to the 

 city for manure at a large expense, is here shown 

 to be unnecessary, and those who at first jeered 

 at this nndeitaking, are now wisely following the 

 exam[ile. Since the full organization of the 

 farm, there has never been less than two thousand 

 loads of surplus manure ready for use. 



A small patch of thestiffest and itiost uiiprotn- 

 ising clay, from which, Mr. S. says his first at- 

 tempt for a crop of buckwheat, resulled in a 

 growth of about six inches; by an addition of a 

 coating of sand ploughed in, and a subsequent 

 one harrowed over the surface, produced a most 

 bountiful yield. It is thus the intelligent and 

 observing book farmer avails himself of all the 

 principles of science and the experience of oth- 

 ers, in his practice, and the consequence is, he 

 gets rich, while his equally industrious and eco- 

 nomical, but ignorant neighbor continues poor. 



The Ibish Peasant. — His hospitality is not 

 only a habit, but a principle : and indeed of such 

 a quick and generous temperament is he, that in 

 ninety cases out of a hundred, the feeling pre- 

 cedes the reflection, which in others, protiiptsthe 

 virtue. To be a stranger and friendless, or suf- 

 fering hunger and thirst, is at any time a passport 

 to his heart and purse. But it is iiot merely the 

 thing or virtue, but also his manner of it that 

 constitutes the charm that runs through his 

 conduct. There is a natural politeness and sin- 

 cerity in his manner which no man can mistake; 

 and it is a fact the truth of which I have felt a 

 thousand times — -that he will make you li^el the 

 acceptance of the favor or the kindness lie be- 

 stows to he a compliment to himself, rather than 

 to you. The delicate ingenuity with which he 

 diminishes the nature or tlie aniount of his own 

 kindness, proves that he is no conmion man, 

 either in heart or intellect; and when all this 

 fails, he will lie like Lucifer himself, and actually 

 .seduce you into an acceptance of his hospitality 

 or assistance. I speak novv exclusively of the 

 peasantry. Certainly, in domestic life, there is 

 no man so exquisitely affectionate and hinnan- 

 ized as the Irishman. The national imagination 

 is active, and the national heart warm ; and it 

 fidlows very naturally that he ehould, and is 

 tender, and exceedingly strong in all his domes- 

 tic relations. Unlike the people of other na- 

 tions, his grief is loud, but lasting, vehement, 

 but deep ; and whilst its shadow has been che- 

 quered by the laughter and mirth of a cheerful 

 disposition, still in mometits of seclusion, at his 

 bedside prayer, or over the grave of those he 

 loved, it will put itself forth, after half a life, with 

 a vivi<l power of recollection which is sometimes 

 ahiiost beyond belief. The Irish are naturally a 

 refined people ; but by this i mean the refine- 

 ment wliich appreciates and cherishes « liatever 

 there is in nature, as manifested through the 

 influences of the softer arts of music and poelrv. 

 The effect of musii^ u|.on the Irish heart I know 

 well, anil no man need tell me that a barbarous 

 or cruel people ever possessed national music 

 that was beautiful and pathetic. The music of 

 any nation is the manifestation of its general 

 feeling, and not that which creates it; although 

 there is no doubt but the one, when formed, per- 

 petuates and reproduces the other. It is no 

 wonder, then, that the domestic feelings of the 

 Irish should be so singularly affectionate and 

 strong, when we consider that they have been, 

 in spite of every obstruction, kept under the 

 softening inflnence of music and jioetry. The 

 luiisic and poetry too, essentially their own : and 

 whether streaming on summer evening along 

 their pastoral fields, echoing through their soft 

 silent glens, or |mured forth at the winter hearth, 

 still by its soft and melancholy spirit, stirring nji 

 a thousand tender associations that must necessa 

 rily touch and improve the heart. ."Xnd it is for 

 this rc.ison that the heart becomes so remarkably 

 eloquent, if not poetical, when moved by sorrow. 

 Many a time have I seen a Keener commence 

 her wail over the corpse of a near relative, ex- 

 temporized under the excitenicnl of the moment 



into sentiments that were highly figurative and 

 impressive. In this she was aided very much by 

 the genius of the language, which possesses the 

 finest and most copious vocabulary in the world 



for the expression of either sorrow or love- 



Carleton's Trails and Storits of the. Irish Peasantry. 



Ten Days in the State of Maine— Continued. 



Passing out of the rich and beautiful valley of 

 the Missolnnscot or river of day along the banks, 

 anglicised^Sandy river, from the lower village of 

 Farmington, we strike ofl' where the river turns 

 from a south-eastern to a north-eastern direction 

 into the county of Somerset. Leaving the level 

 road on the alluvion of this river the rise is mod- 

 erate ; and looking backward the Bald mountain. 

 Mount Ahrahaiu, Mount Bigelow and the Saddle- 

 back mountains appear more prominent in the 

 distance at the north-west and north. We come 

 into a country longer settled, <;f n thinner and less 

 fertile soil. Sandy river unites with the Kenne- 

 beck just above the site of the ancient town of 

 Norridgewock ; and the modern town, which is 

 the capital or shire of the county of Somerset, 

 lies on both sides of the magnificent Kennebeck 

 from whose high banks on either side is thrown 

 across a bridge high above the channel of water 

 passing underneath. The conn house and main 

 village are on the easterly side upon a high allu- 

 vion level ; and trees and gardens adorn the well 

 painted houses which are mostly situated upon 

 the main street running along the easterly bank 

 of the river. At this village the river turns from 

 a south-easterly to a north-easterly direction, and 

 coursing six miles breaks through a ridge of 

 rocks at the Skowhegan falls. From Noiridge- 

 wock to Quebec the distance is 180 miles — to 

 the line dividing Maine from Lower Canada it is 

 90 miles; and it is 50 miles to the Forks of the 

 river, where the course of the road turns up in a 

 north-west direction, the waters of the Moose- 

 head lake coming down in another branch from 

 the north-east. There are five fiirms along the 

 banks of the Kennebeck on both sides all the 

 way from Norridgewock to the Skowhegan falls. 



Bloomfield was originally a large town below 

 Norridgewock on both sides of the river: tire 

 west side is still a town of that name, and the east 

 side, formerly Milburn, is now the town of Skow- 

 hegan. In the river between the towns is an 

 island of seven acres, on each side of which the 

 water is compressed into a narrow channel down 

 which it is precipitated in a fall of some fifty 

 feet. .\ bridge extends to each bank from the 

 island ; and on this are several hotises and a 

 bank. 



A Mr. Weston settled on a fertile track of in- 

 tervale a few iriiles below the falls in 1772. In 

 his expedition to Quebec three years afterwards. 

 Gen. .Arnold called in aid the Westons to force 

 his barges up the fidls. The troops were station- 

 ed upon the island ; and it is related of the late 

 Gen. Henry Dearborn, then a captain of a New 

 Hampshire regiment, that on a challenge from a 

 Virginia regiment for a wrestle with a negro, the 

 latter was beaten, and the meed of victory was 

 awarded to the muscular strength of the Granite 

 State. Subsequent to the Revolution, but more 

 than forty years ago. Dearborn, having hecmne a 

 settler in the county of Kennebeck, as Major 

 General reviewed all the troops within the limits 

 of the present comities of Somerset and Franklin, 

 embodied in a single regiment near Farmington 

 falls 11(1011 Sandy river; the same country minhl 

 turn out an army now of five or ten thousand 

 troops. 



Easterly of the island within the limits of 

 Skowhegan, at a higher elevation than the imme- 

 diate river banks is a level field orriginally 

 wooded with pines, of some two thousand acres. 



High and elevated above the river hank on the 

 east side of the Kennebeck is the beautifiil town 

 of Cornville. At this place resides with her son- 

 in-law, Geii. Kingman, Mrs. Page, the widow of 

 Enoch Page, and sister of our Gen. Cilley of the 

 Revolution, at the advanced age of nearly one 

 hundred years. This lady, as the mode of her 

 travel in youth, lately talked of visiting New 

 Hampshire, her native State, on horse-back! 

 She has outlived, it is believed, all the numerous 

 children of her deceased brother, who gloriously 

 distinguished himself at Saratoga, the l.ast of 

 whom, more than seventy years of age, died at 

 Epsom not many months since. 



