118 



^1)0 iTarmcr's illowthlu fat sitor. 



It is not 111! of us llmt have room for the whole 

 stalks and Iilades, and my practice liiis hecii to 

 get up the whole crop, early cut, against u fence, 

 and ill husUii!!.' it out, which cannot be done too 

 80011, to strip the blades iVom the stalks, and pnt 

 thein away on the top of the haymow : the stalks 

 when dry I usually hurn, for unless they are out 

 up the cattle will mil hut very little, tramiiling 

 the rest in with the manure, where ihey are more 

 plajjue than [irotit, for they embarrass the hand- 

 iin °or loading of it, and in the held are a long 

 tinfe in the way of the plough without doing any 



good. 



Corn leaned against a tence is very convenient 

 in husking. Itaftbrds a shelter from (he wind, and 

 stalk by etalk there is great facility in the work. 

 No Farmer wo suppose rc(piires a hint ii])on tak- 

 ing care of his crop after he has made it ; and 

 few are willing to bestow their care and labor tor 

 the benefit of the rats and mice, yet do we not 

 still find quiie too iiianv corn houses that are ac- 

 cessible to Ihoir depro.iations ? If we wouUI but 

 make the calculation, wo should I think find that 

 if these animals can come at our corn, they will 

 destroy nioro in a single winter, than the cost of 

 excluding them. All know how a corn-house 

 should he made, and detached from other build- 

 ings, set open posts two or three feet from the 

 ground, and loniul each post where they are not 

 capped, wiih wide flat stones, there should be a 

 sheet of tin, which neither rat or mouse can pass. 

 Thus with the steps to let down from the inside 

 only when the door is opened keeps them out ; 

 they may try and will try in vain to gain access. 



We save our corn the fruits of oiir toil by this, 

 and we relish the bread better : for who but fiin- 

 cies that he can taste the dirt of rats and mice, 

 when he knows that they h.ive been swarining 

 and feeding among his corn ? 



Not less imporlant to our stock is it that our 

 )iay should be cut and cured early. In the prepa- 

 ration of .medicinal herbs, and sage, savoiy, and 

 marjoram, for the seasoners of our food, are they 

 not best cut or gathered early, and dried in the 

 shade ? In this way the green color is retained 

 and there is more of the aroma or fragrance. It 

 is not practicable on a large scale to cut hay and 

 shade— dry ii; but have not all observing farmers 

 noticed that hay cured in not very clear weather 

 without rain is the brightest, and has in the win- 

 ter or spring the smell of new hay ? This does 

 not and cannot often happen, but all have it in 

 their power to cut a portion of their hay sooner 

 ' than they do. Clover, herds-grass, or timothy, and 

 all other grasses liave been deemed best when in 

 blossom; and this may he true, but if we wait 

 before we put in the scythe until it is full blown, 

 will not too much of our crop have to stand too 

 long, and would it not therefore, be best to begin 

 earlier, for the hay is not any better in quality 

 when in blossom than it was a week before, but 

 it is considered as at its maturity of growth in 

 that state. Would it not then be well for every 

 farmer to besin cutting his grass before it gets 

 fairly into blossom, so as to enable him_ to 

 finish sooner tliaii when the blossom falls off? It 

 is deemed of not less importance to make good 

 hay than to have good plump grain, and with our 

 cattle the former will save the latter ; tor if the 

 liav is good and nutricious, the cattle will have a 

 creditable appearance and do their work with 

 little or no grain. As a part of the art also of 

 saving hay well, salt should not be omitted; one 

 peck'toaton costs but little, and the effect is 

 thought of more value than a bushel of corn ;— 

 the cattle eat it belter ; the hay is better, and it 

 puts on more flesh. If we wish to sell it we con- 

 fer a favor and a benefit upon the purchaser and 

 realize a larger sum of money for our pay, for 

 we deem it perfectly within hounds to say that in 

 each ton of hay one peck of salt will make a dif- 

 ference of one huiidreil pounds, which will pay 

 for the salt and trouble of sprinkling it when we 

 put it away, and gain for us the reputation of 

 making excellent hay. 



By industry, care, and attention then,our farms 

 will improve," our crops will be good, sell profita- 

 bly, and we shall benefit ourselves, our countiy, 

 aiid the Granite State. ^• 



Happiness.— Inward peace of mind, conscious- 

 ness of integrity, and satisfactory review of our 

 own conduct, are circumstances very requisite to 

 happiness. Those who possess them will have 

 the frequent satisfaction of .seeing knaves, with 



all their pretended cunning and abilities, betray- 

 ed by their own maxims; but were they ever so 

 successful, the honest man, if he has any tincture 

 of iihilosophy, will discover ihat knaves are 

 themselves in the end, the greatest dupes, and 

 have sacrificed the iiivahiahle enjoyment of a 

 good characler for the aequsition of worthless 

 gevv-gaws. How little is required to siqiply the 

 necessities of nature, and in a view to pleasure, 

 what a comparison between the unhought satis- 

 faction of conver.sation, society, study, even health 

 and the common beauties of nature, but, above 

 all, the peacelul reflection of one's own conduct 

 — what compassion, we say, between those and 

 the feverish, empty amusements of luxury and 

 expense? These natural pleasures, indeed, are 

 really without price, both because they are below 

 all price in their attainment, and above all price 

 in their enjoyment. 



For the Farmer's Monthly Visitor. 



Mr. Editor: — The extract from the V. S. 

 Gazette contained in the last iinniber of the Vis- 

 itor, entitled " The grave of a Dog," recalled to 

 iiiv mind the following poen, which I copied some 

 years since from a Magazine, and which I have 

 seldom seen equalled lor beautiful imagery, and 

 deep pathos. 



Jl'est Chester. 



The Dead Spaniel. 



''Up Spaniel ! the huntsmnn is winding his horn 

 111 the greenwood : the winged echoes tioat 

 'Mid tile bright biinnered clouds like the hcraidd ofniorn : 

 He.Tr'stthou not ihe wild choir? heiir'st lliou not? 

 Oh 1 it was not thy wont with tlie sluggard to lie 

 Wlien the dingles were voiced with the shrill hunting 

 cry. 



"Wake sleeper! the sunbcan hath stol'n on thy lair 



With a smile thatrebuketh thy sleep; 



TJie west wind is lilting thy shining brown hair, 



But tliy slumbers are changeless and deep. 



Can the sunbeam not kindle thine eye as of old 



With delight, that thy glance is so dreamless and cold ? 



'■The west wind I ye reck not the spell wliich it brings 



I'Vom the hills and the green forest bowers. 



Where the wood-birds sit laving their beautiful wings 



In the dew-drops that fill the wild flowers ; 



And the sun-bee's glad roundelay bids Ihes rejoice ; 



Up, up, lionest hearts with thy welcoming voice. 



"Yc stir not! but I have a charm beyond all 



That the shrill huntingclarion could be, 



Or the stiff sunny smiles on thy bright locks that fall, 



Or the wind's "wizard numbers" to thee, 



Or the wood-pigeon's murmurs, the bee's madrigals ; 



Up, Roswal ! 'tis she whom lliou iovcst that calls. 



" 'Tis she whom thou lovest ! her voice was a spell 



That no slumber was wont to disown, 



And thy heart leapt ast'ree as some blithe marriage bell, 



When iier gratetul caresses were won ; 



But now, oh ! what change has come over that heart. 



When her gentlest caress can no pleasure impart? 



'•There's a step on the t'nreshold 1 the stranger is conie I 



Ye are stretched his dull shadow beneath ; 



He hath spoke, but thy quick ringing challenge is dumb, 



For the sentinel's slumber is death : 



?vo larum shall rouse thee : no joy of the past 



.Shall give light to thy sleeping, the longest and last." 



(Jr.^fting Gr.\pe Vines. — A writer in the 

 last number of Hovey's Magazine of Horticul- 

 ture, (i\lr. Camak, of Athens, Ga.) gives a very 

 simple mode of grafting grape vines. His plan 

 is as follows; — " Cut ofl' llie old \ iiie below the 

 surface of the earth, after the leaves arc fully 

 expanded and all danger of bleeding is past. 

 Split the slock as in cleft grafting. Insert the 

 scion, consisting of one year old wood, and hav- 

 ing two or three buds, having first cut the end to 

 be inserted in a wedge shape. If the slock close 

 firmly on the scion, fieing is unnecessary. If it 

 does not close firmly it must be bound up tight. 

 Draw the earth up around the whole leaving the 

 hud mainly depended on, nsii.illy the second 

 from the lop, just even with the surface and Ihe 

 work is done. The after management conslsis 

 in taking off the sprouts that rise from the stock, 

 those that spring fi-om the scion, all but one and 

 training that up carefully !is it grows." 



It seems, from his account, that it is not even 

 necessary to match the barks, only bring the slock 

 and scion in contact and keep them so. Many 

 of our native, fox or frost grapes, which are now 

 of no value, might thus be rendered productive. 

 We hope some of the proprietors of barren grape 

 vines will think of this, and engraft them anoth- 

 er .spring. 



l-'rom the Boston Mercantile Journal. 

 The United Status and the Macedonian. 



Heading in your paper of the 14ili iiist. a very 

 graphic account of the battle between Ihe United 

 Stales and the Macedonian, I was reminded that 

 I had in my posession a very fine counterpart to 

 it, written on the day after the battle by a gentle- 

 man who was a volunteer on hoard the United 

 States. It would be difficult to imagine a greater 

 contrast than the scene presented on board the 



two ships. 



.'It Sea, October ^6, 1612, lat. I, loii. 29. 



My Dear Friends : — I will endeavor to give 

 you something like an account of what I have 

 wilnessed since we parted. The gentry who 

 have heretofore done the sea fighting of the world 

 have represented it as a business so frightful, 

 have so filled our ears with the thundering des- 

 cription of the cannonade, and so wrung our 

 sympathies with the agonies of the wounded and 

 dying, that had I not just come out of one as 

 noisy, at least, as any of theirs, 1 should think it 

 a very improper sort of a picture to present to a 

 lady'.seyes; but it being a very tame concern, 

 save now and then a ridiculous occurrence, 1 not 

 only do not despair of giving you a very minute 

 account, which shall not aftectyonr nerves, but I 

 liojie even to excite your curiosity as high as mine 

 was when I came in sea for the purpose of see- 

 ing a fight. You must know tliat yesterday 

 morning I was waked out of a sound sleep with 

 the very agreeable intelligence that a t'rigale was 

 in sight, slandinir for us, and close aboard. — 

 " How large is she ?" "Very large, sir." " Per- 

 haps it is an American or Sfr.inish ?" "No, sir, 

 she has got an English flag flying." "Give me 

 my clothes." The purser by "this time had got 

 the intelligence. His station you know is in the 

 cockpit, out of shot. With his clothes in his 

 hand, he was darting with the rapidity of light- 

 ning for his hiding place, when, seeing me, he 

 stopped suddenly, and taking me to his cabin, 

 said, "Come, my "good fellow, there's no knowing 

 what may happen, just subscribe lliis receipt for 

 your share of the small stores." 



A very pretty omen, thought I. Dressed and 

 armed (for you must nnderstad I am one of the 

 goodly fellowship of boarders) 1 ventured on 

 deck. Here every thing was in buslle — the hurry 

 of ineparation fi)r battle. I met the Commo- 

 dore's eye. " Well, sir, you .-ire ready, I see." 

 " Yes, sir," said I, in a very husky voice. " We 

 shall have a fight." " Think so, sir ?" " Oh, yes, 

 there she is and a beauty, too." I got on a gun 

 earriiige, looked over llie bulwark, and there she 

 was sure enough, right abreast of us, show iiig all 

 her teeth. Ah I thought I to myself, how much 

 better 'twould be now if she would only strike 

 without firing. "Shall we hoist the ensign?" 

 asked a quarteriiiaster. "Yes." "More than 

 one?" "No; we can whi[) her as easily under 

 one flag iis four." "Silence!" And all was as 

 hush as death. Our captain now made a speech: 

 " My good fellows, we'll Inuo no cheering. If 

 you knock out one of her masts, don't slop to 

 bawl about if, but thump away the harder at the 

 other tniv." Well, thought I, if yen don't make 

 a better fight than you have a speecli, we may as 

 well give up at once. " Fire one broadside fiom 

 the giindeck 1" And oft' it went, very much like 

 fifteen other guns, makingsoine noise and a great 

 smoke; and then very fiiinlly we heard ten guns 

 in relinii, hut not a shot came near us. 1 grew 

 (•.ibii, and now if they would only finish ital this 

 di.-lanoe ! 



The enemy, however, went about again. Our 

 sails were hauled up, and there we lay, wailing 

 for hijn to come down. He came within about 

 half a mile, and let slip all his broadside, and oflT 

 went ours. And so we went on, our men firing 

 three limes to his once — the slioi flying thick and 

 close, whiz, whiz, whit, whit, ihiy flew fast and 

 thick. I went to the capstan to minute that one 

 of her yards had settled, and the moment 1 turned 

 my back, crash came a shot, through and through, 

 knocked down three men, cut ofl' a whelp of the 

 capstan, and threw it oft' ito a thoihsand splinters 

 all about me. There the men lay — not a groan, 

 not a wry look, no crying out. At length Lieut. 

 Funk, who was one of them, beckoned to me. I 

 took him in my arms and carried him to the gun 

 deck, to the grating over the cockpit. There 

 were three others with their legs off. "Let them 

 go ilown first," said Funk, "lam in no plan." 



