50 



^\)C jTarmcr'a iilontl)!^ faigitor. 



l>e sown much earlier than they generally are. 

 On strong, rich fertile soils, oats will not require 

 sowing so early, as from the greater strength of 

 the soil they will grow nuich quicker than on a 

 soil of a poor tlescri|>tion. Rich soils require 

 plouirhing but a slioii time before sovi'iiig. 



"On all light soils it is advisable, innnediately 

 after putting in the seeil, and on all lands as soon 

 as the plants are ihree or four inches high, to 

 apply the roller. I>y this operation, light, dry po- 

 rous soils are greatly benefitted, as it enables 

 them to retain the moisture more perfectly, at 

 the same time, by pressing the earth to the roots, 

 the growth of the plants is materially promoted. 

 When the soil is worked up lightly, moisture 

 either filtrates through it too quickly, or is loo 

 easily evaporated ; in a dry season this tnay oc- 

 ■* casion a jireat deficiency of the crop, more es- 

 pecially on a light soil. " Oats are ready for the 

 scythe when the grain becomes hard and the 

 sti-aw of a yellowish color ; but, both wheat and 

 oats should be cut before therj are dead-ripe, as it 

 not only prevents shattering, but improves the 

 grain by augmenting its nutritions qualities." 



In proof of the liability of grain to change 

 quickly even with iuconsiderable change of cli- 

 mate and to degenerate when transferred to a 

 less genial soil, we extract the following from a 

 late number of the English Farmer's Maga- 

 zine:— . 



"In oats early maturity seems connected with 

 excellence of quality, and late maturity with tie- 

 generacy. When a valuid)le new variety is in- 

 troduced, its chief merits are— the small quantity 

 of it needed to sow on an acre— the early ma- 

 turity of the crop and its superior mealing value. 

 Less' seed is required because it more vigorously 

 spreads its roots and multiplies its steins. Our 

 |)()talo oat has gradually become later, and is 

 every year approaching the character of our older 

 varieties. Thirty years ago 5 bushels of see.l 

 were sufficient for an acre, as 6i or 7 bushels 

 are now, and if we do not on average soils sow 

 our own degenerate potato oats a week or two 

 earlier than we did 30 years ago, or as early as 

 we then sowed 'common oats,' we reap none 

 of the former advantages of the potato oats. 

 Some think a mere change from clay to gravel, 

 or li-om gravel to clay, enough, but remove a 

 seed or plant from a better soil to a worse, and 

 deterioration will be sure to follow." 



Finally, I recommend every farmer to get the 

 best seed he can if he has not himself had the 

 providence to save the best, from soil and cli- 

 mate like his own— to have his land well pre- 

 pared—to harrow or lightly plough it in one way, 

 the land being first ploughed, and to bush it in 

 the other — to sow much more seed than usual, 

 according to the strength of the land, and when 

 a few inches high to be sure to roll it. Let seed 

 oats, as well as" all other seed, be steeped, the 

 refiise thrown off, and rolled in lime or plaster, 

 or even ashes; anil finally, to sow before his neigh- 

 bor, and, as before said, to reap before it is dead- 

 ripe. . 



I shall need no excuse for occupying so much 

 space with this article, in the opinion of those 

 who bear in mind that it is one of the most im- 

 portant sta])les of the United States. Next to 

 Indian corn the annual produce of oats is nearly 

 one third more than that of any other grain, 

 even wheat. It may be worth while here to add 

 the product of each, (as founded on the census 

 of 1840,) estimated for the year of 1841, to wit: 



of wheat the product was 91,642,957 bushels; 



bailey 5,024,"31 ; rve l!l,333.474; buckwheat 7,- 

 953,.5"44; oats 130,607,(32:3; Indian corn 387,380,- 

 18.5; potatoes 113,183,619; tons of hay 12,804,- 

 705; tons of flax and hemp 101,181. 



This immense produce of oats and corn might 

 be inferred from the vast and wasteful redun- 

 dance of horse over inore economical mule and 

 ox power for agricultural purposes in the United 

 States,— feeding as we do 4,33.5,669 horses and 

 mules, (of which last the j)roportioii is very 

 small,) being nearly a million more of these 

 slu.rt-lived expensive animals than are kepi in 

 Great Britain and France together ! How much 

 would it augment our national wealth and re- 

 sources, if horses were sid)siitiited by other ani- 

 mals in every case where it could be done with 

 economy? When the population of Great Brit- 

 ain in 18.30 was about equal to ours now, they 

 sustained only 1,.500,000 horses, while we_ pro- 

 duce corn, oats and hay fodder to feed 4,335,669 ; 



difference against us of 2,83.5,669 short-lived 

 expensive beasts, which, supposing them to cost 

 on an average, in east and west, town and coun- 

 try only $25 a year each, and we have an annual 

 outlay in the United States for horses over and 

 above the numlier kept in Great JJritain, (with an 

 equal population,) amounting to !ji70,891,725, 

 which, in three years, would pay the debts of all 

 the States in the Union! New York alone pro- 

 duces nearly 22,000,000 bushels of oats, and 

 I^eimsylvania nearly 20,000,000. 



When it is leconniieuded that oats be cut 

 before they are dead-ripe, it is to be understood 

 that the same practice is not to he ob.served a.s to 

 so much of the crop as is intended to furnish 

 seed oats. These should be ripe, but the straw 

 of oats not dead-ripe is much more nutritious, 

 and is in fact more valuable as fodder than sec- 

 ond crop clover hay. 



Extract from Col. Alice's account of his crop 

 of oats published in the Atnerican Fartner ot the 

 15th nit.:— 



"This variety of oats was introduced into 

 Frederick county from Oliio some 12 or 14 years 

 since, and though sown upon a heavy clay soil, 

 has retained its weight and plump appearance, 

 weighing, as the present crop does, 42 pounds to 

 the "bushel. It is decidedly the most valuable 

 oats we have had in this section of the country. 

 I know of no particular name for it, other than 

 the Big Oats. 



"My tenant, who cut the crop, believes there 

 were select acres in the field, that would have 

 yielded 80 bushels per acre. This crop was 

 grown upon land which the summer before had 

 produced a heavy crop of corn from a sod which 

 had been ploughed under the fall before. The 

 stalks, last spring, were carefiilly gathered and 

 hauled into the manure yard, in which I soiled, 

 or fed, some cattle during the summer. The 

 ground was then ploughed and 2J bushels of 

 oats sown per acre — would now, on good ground, 

 recommend 3 bushels as prelerable. It was 

 carefully harrowed one way, then crossed with a 

 large brush harrow, and afterwards rolled. This 

 last operation, which leaves the ground smooth, 

 greatly assists in gathering a crop so much down 

 as this was. No manure was used to either the 

 corn or oat crop. The oat stubble was well ma- 

 nured and ploughed under, and two crops of 

 wheat in succession will be grown, and then laid 

 down in grass. This is my regular com-se of 

 cropping." 



It is |)articularly worthy of remark that in a 

 rotation of crops intended to destroy g.-irlic, by 

 frequent interruption of its extraordinary powers 

 of vitality, none is considered more auxiliary and 

 effective to that end than oats. .1. S. S. 



ff'ashington. 



The first aud last Dinner. 



BY PR0FESS0.1 WILSON. 



Twelve friends, much about the same age, and 

 fixed by their pursuits, their family connections, 

 and other local interests, as permanent inhabi- 

 tants of the metropolis, agreed, one day while 

 they were drinking their wine at the Star and 

 Garter at Richmond, to institute an annual din- 

 ner among themselves under the following reg- 

 ulations: That they should dine alternately at 

 each other's houses, on the first and last day of 

 the year; that the first bottle of wine uncorked 

 at the first dinner should he re-corked aud put 

 asvay to be drank by him who sliouhl he the last 

 of their nuinhtM-; that they slioidd never admit a 

 new member; that when one died, eleven should 

 meet, aud so on — and that, when only one re- 

 maine<l, he should on those two days dine by 

 himselt; and sit the usual hours at his solitary 

 table — but the first time he so dined alone, lest 

 it slionid he the only one, he should then uncork 

 the first bottle, and in the first glass drink to the 

 memory of all who were gone. 



There was .something original and whimsical 

 in the idea, and it »vas eagerly embraced. They 

 were all in the prime of life, closely attached by 

 reciprocal fiieudship, fond of social enjoyments, 

 and looke<l ti)rward to their fiitnre meetings with 

 unalloyed anticipations of pleasure. The only 

 thought, indeed, that darkened these anticipa- 

 tions was one not very likely to intrude itself at 

 this moment — that of the hapless wiirht who 

 was destined to uncork the first bottle to his 

 lonely repast. 



It was bright summer when this frolic compact 



was entered into ; as their pleasure boat skimmed 

 along the bosom of the Thames, on their return 

 to Loudon, they talked of nothing but their first 

 and last feasts of the ensuing years. .Their 

 imaginations ran riot with a thousand gay pre- 

 dictions of festive merriment. They wantoned 

 in conjectures of what changes time woulil ope- 

 rate, joked each other u|)ou their appearance 

 when they should meet — some of them hobbling 

 upon crutches after a severe fit of the gout — ■ 

 others poking about with |)urblind eyes, whom 

 even sjiectacles could hardly enable to distinguish 

 the alderman's walk in a haunch of venison — 

 some with portly round bellies aud tidy little 

 brown wigs, and others decently dressed out in 

 a new suit of mourning, for the death of a great 

 grand-daughter, or a gre.it-grandson. 



" .As for von, George," exclaimed one of the 

 twelve, addressing his hiother-in-law, " I expect 

 I shall see yon as dry, withered and shrunken as 

 an old eel-skin, you mere outside of a man !" 

 aud he accompanied the words with a hearty 

 slap on the shoulder. 



George Fortescue was leaning carelessly over 

 the side of the yacht, laughing the loudest of any 

 at the coiiversatiou which had been carried on. 

 The sudden manual salutation of his brother-in- 

 law threw him off" his balance, aud in a moment 

 he was overboard. They heard the heavy splash 

 of his fall. The boat was proceeding swiftly 

 along — but it was instantly stopped. 



The utmost consternation now |.revailed. It - 

 was nearly dark, but Fortescue was known to be 

 an excellent swimmer, and startliiu; as the acci- 

 dent was, tfiey felt certain he would regain the 

 vessel. They could not see him. They listened, 

 aud heard the .sound of his hands and feet. They 

 hailed him, and no answer was returned, but in 

 a faint ami gurgling voice, and the exclamation, 

 "Oh God !" struck upon thttir ear.s. In an in- 

 stant, two or three who were expert swimmers 

 plunged into the river, and swam to the spot 

 whence the exclamations had proceeded. One 

 of them was within an arm's length of Fortescue 

 —he was struggling and buffeting the water, 

 and before he could be reached, he went down, 

 aud his distracted friend beheld the eddying cir- 

 cles of the wave just over the spot where he had 

 sunk. He dived after him. and touched the bot- 

 tom — hut the tide must have drifted the body 

 onwaril, for it could not be found. 



They proceeded to fcne of the nearest stations 

 where drags are kept, and having procured the 

 necessary apparatus, they returned to the fatal 

 spot. After the lapse of above an hour, they 

 succeeded in finding the lifeless body of their 

 lost triend. All the usual remedies wero em- 

 ployed for restoring snspendeil animation, hut in 

 vain — and they now pursued the remainder of 

 their course to London, iii mournful silence, with 

 the coipse of him who had commenced the day 

 of pleasure with them in the fiilness of he.ilth, 

 of spirits, and of life! .Amid their severe grief 

 they could not but remember that one of the 

 joyous twelve had already slipped out of the 

 little festive ciicle ! 



Tlie mouths rolled on, and cold December 

 came with its cheering round of kindly greeting 

 and merry hospitality; and with iicame a soft- 

 ened recollection of the D'.te of poor Fortescue ; 

 eleven of the twelve assembled on the last day 

 of the year ; :md it was impossible not lo see 

 their loss as they sat down to dinner. The very 

 irregularity of the table, six on one side, and only 

 five on the other, forced the melancholy event 

 upon their memory. 



There are few sorrows so stubborn as to resist 

 the unitid influence of wine, a circle of select 

 friends, and a prospective gaiety. 



A decorous sigh or two, a few becoming ejac- 

 ulations, and an instructive observation on the 

 uncertainty of life, made up the sum of tender 

 posthumous offerings to the manes of poor 

 George Fortescue, as they proceeded to discharge 

 the most important duties for which they had 

 met. By the time the third glass of champagne 

 had gone round, in addition to sundry potations 

 of fine old hock, and capital Madeira, they had 

 ceased to discover anything so very pathetic in 

 the inequality of the two sides of the table, or 

 so melancholy in their crippled numberof eleven. 



[The rest of the evening passed ofli"very pleas- 

 antly in conversation, good humored enjoyment 

 aud convivialitv, and it was not till toward twelve 



