132 



^\)c jTarincr's iHnntl)hj bisttor. 



F'or the Fnrmev's Monthly \'isitor. 

 The Agriculture of the District of Columbia. 



Those who have read the iiiteiestiiig Joiiniiil 

 of the hite Mrs. Adaius given to the public by 

 her son, may recollect her nrcoiint of this part of 

 the country on heriirri\al in the jcwr ]800. The 

 roa'Js between the Capitol anil Raliininre, wliich 

 lay tliroiigh an almost uninhabitnlile tbrest, were 

 appalling. What then roqniietl two days to (ler- 

 foriii, is now accoinplisheil in about the same 

 number of hours by rail road. The District of 

 Columbia, e.\cppt Alexandria and Georgetown, 

 was almost nncidtivatcil, and large poiiions cov- 

 ered with forests. The city itself fixed upon as 

 the seat of the General government was but a 

 worn out plantation — with nothing that makes a 

 city except the unfinislied public liiiildiiigs, and 

 the shantees that sheltered the worktnen employ- 

 ed in their construction. Surroimded by forests, 

 it was a favor to get a load of wood. A soil 

 resting upon as good clay for bricks as any in 

 the world, — these were brought from England 

 or Philadelphia, with v\ hich some of the first 

 houses «ere built. Willi a delicious climate, the 

 early residents depended upon the north and the 

 east for fruit, vegetables, and almost every thing 

 else. 



How must all this iiave changed in forty odd 

 years — a ])eriod that njakes scarcely a notch up- 

 on the fi'ce of an European landscape, hut here 

 pioduces a coinplete revolution. Fields verdant 

 and productive where was the tall forest — fruits 

 60 excellent and abimdant that in their earlier 

 ripeness they are now sent to the less genial 

 north for a market — and the jirodncts of the 

 market garden, various in kind, plenty and cheap. 

 As for building materials the brick kilns have in 

 many instances made excavations for the streets. 

 The article is so excellent that they ling like 

 metal arid are broken with difficidty. Lime is 

 abundant, made upon the spot from stone brought 

 down the canals, where marble and abundance 

 of other stone used for various purposes are 

 quarried. The horn of plenty seems to have 

 been emptied here, where make-shift necessity 

 existed forty years ago. Visiting the Washing- 

 ton market the middle of this month (September) 

 abmidance every where met my eyes. The va- 

 rieties of meats, beef, veal, and lamb, were ex- 

 cellent and cheap: butler in quality no where 

 surpassed ; the sweet potato in high pyramids, 

 and all other vegetables as good as 1 had just 

 seen in Philadelphia or New York. As for the 

 fruit they appeared to me to surpass those lities. 

 Melon.s, peaches, pears, and superior grapes, re- 

 minded me of what I have reaii of the south of 

 France and the gardens of Italy. Here also 1 

 isaw baskets of flowers arranged with taste and 

 tied in small bunches, captivating the senses by 

 their colors and fragrance. One of these I pur- 

 chased, and was told by the boy who sold them, 

 and who appeared to me like a young liulian, 

 that they " grew at Mr. Pierce's, about fom- miles 

 off" — a place I determined to visit if time per- 

 mitted before my departure. 



The cleanness and beauty of llie grounds ex- 

 cited my admiration: the walks shaded with 

 trees, and bordered by flowers: a jet of water 

 falling with refreshing coolness, and this scene 

 enlivened in the afternoon by well dressed com- 

 pany drawn thither for social intercourse, and to 

 listen to the mingling strains of music by the 

 Marine band. Casting myself iipiui one of ilic 

 benches, what i saw, heard and felt, left ine in 

 no surprise that persons, especially those who 

 are young, become fascinated by a residence at 

 Washington. Conqiauy, gardens, climate, mu- 

 sic, and I'.evcr alloyed excitement — all, all are 

 liere, to chase nwuy and banish froin the mind 

 the melancholy realities of existence. On visit- 

 ing some tew acquaintances who had become 

 residents, I found them all preferring Washine- 

 ton. 'i'liey at first felt the newness of chauire, 

 and they generally tell desire to return ; but liiis 

 was of short duration, and was soon oulweigheil 

 by more povverlul and constant attractions. 



Here also are found the wonderfid productions 

 of the sculptor, and the eventful periods of our 

 history, made forever present by the painter: we 

 land with the Pilgrims, join in the Declaration 

 of Independence, behold the haughty submission 

 of Burguoyne at Saratoga, and see the disarmed 

 ligst of Cornwallis led captive at Yorktovvn. 

 These, all these, are heie, and Pocahontas also, 

 who like woman every where, manifested how 



stronger is love to man, than to religion, kindred 

 and to country. 



But I must prepare to be away, and before 1 

 depart will take a ride without this fair, this fas- 

 cinating seat of western empire. Mounting n 

 lioise, by direction, I took the roud northward for 

 Pierce's ivhence ilie flowers already spoken of 

 had come. I passed along the city about one 

 mile — the streets not yet opened, but in cultiva- 

 tion — ascemled the first hill on which is erected 

 the Colundiia College that overlooks an exten- 

 sive and fine jirospect of coimtry, city, ami liver. 

 A field lay on my rii'lit, that in fertility equalled 

 any wheie in New England, and 1 was told that 

 the whole vicinity was undergoing renovation 

 from the use of lime. T |iassed the race course 

 on my right where the steeds of the North and 

 the South, like their owners near by, have so of- 

 ten contended. S|jeed and mind! — and where 

 may we not hope, in future as in the past, the 

 race will be for the benefit and good of our com- 

 mon country! The soil appears sterile, but cul- 

 tivation shows it otherwise ; whenever care had 

 been bestoweil, a vigorous growtli appeared. 



When I had passed the race course, I entered 

 the woods, and soon a number of roads put me 

 at fault. 1 waited, but saw no one, andthen re- 

 turned to the last past house and inquired the 

 way. On again I went — penetrated deeper into 

 the woods — descended a steep hill and arrived 

 at a forest of pines, where I turned to the right, 

 which was again wrong. But the evening was 

 fine — the smell of the woods agreeable, and I en- 

 joyed the solitude found so near ihe capilol. — 

 Reaching a mill that lay across a beautiful little 

 clear stream the object of my ride was pointed 

 out some distance behind, and to reach \\ hich I 

 had to retr:ice my steps about a mile. A road 

 for lovers, reflections or romance again brought 

 me to the same stream lower down, which hav- 

 ing passed 1 ascended the hill capped with a 

 fine stone house and surrounded by walks, gar- 

 dens, flowers and evergreens; this was, this is 

 Pierce's, and named Linnean Hill. It lies on the 

 banks of Rock creik, the stream already men- 

 tioned, and is on a hill surrounded by hills. Va- 

 riety is here presenled, stream, forest, hill, dale, 

 waste and cultivation. I was looked upon with 

 no surprise; and the same lillle Indian hoy that 

 I had seen in the market became my purvey- 

 or. The plants were outside the gieeidiouse, 

 but in great variety, and the flovseis and shiiib- 

 bery were uurivalltd in their beauty. 



Neatness seemed lo prevail, for as I caught a 

 glance within doors, I saw order and taste mani- 

 fested. Ilow fortunate the owner, said I, with 

 such a spot and so excellent a housekeeper, hut 

 still more fortunate would he he weic he mar- 

 ried, for he is said to be a bachelor.* I have 

 never seen trees more completely loaded with 

 frnil : and jdaiits and oiiiauiciital trees a|q;eaied 

 in everv direclion. It' I had devoted a flay iii- 

 >tead oi all hour, il could not have been loimd loo 

 long, and I hail been |ileased to make ucqiiain- 

 tance willi the owner, who appears to have .reti- 

 red to this sequestered spot and wedded Flora 

 the Goddess, lalher than a mortal wife. But I 

 must quit this scene, and prepare for my depart- 

 ure in the uioniiug in the rapid, rolling car. 



As 1 returned leisurely tii the city in the twi- 

 light of the eveniuif, the reins carelessly drop- 

 ping upon the neck of the walking horse ; I 

 could not but reflect upon the changes that forty 

 \ears h.ave produced ; so striking in Washing- 

 ton and iissubuibs, so lemarkable every where. 

 If length of lil'e were marked by change, how 

 long have we not lived .• The tell tale of Time, 

 I he moss, has not grow n iq'on our oldest edifices, 

 and we are a great, a growing, and above these, 

 ;i free nalinii, with talent to improve, and energy 

 to execute, with soil and climate to produce, and 

 a triumph over distance ihat makes us all neigh- 

 bors, and brings our mutual products to our mu- 

 tual wants; what may we not anticipate for the 

 future? I reached my tavern and, (juicker than 

 my pen can trace it, have 1 reached mv home. 



A VISITOR. 



Sept. 20, 1843. 



* We think our correspondent is in error here, as vis- 

 itors to Linnean hill have represented the accomplished 

 lady of the owner as staiiding prominent among the at- 

 tractions. ' 



Indepenilence consists in being able to live 

 without the aid of others. 



From Blackwood's JNIagazine for August. 

 The Cry of the Children. 



BY ELIZABETH E.EAKliETT. 



Do ye hear the children weeping. Oh my brothers I 



Rre the sorrow conies with years ? 

 They are leaning their ynuiig heads against their mothers, 



And that cannot stop their tears. 

 The young lambs are bleating in the meadows. 



The young birds are chirping in the nest, 

 The young lawns are playing in the shadows, 



The young ffowers are blowing in the west; 

 But the young children. O iny brothers ! 



They are weeping bitterly ! 

 They are weeping in the playtime of others — 



fn the country of the tree. 



Do you question the young children in their sorrow, 



Why their tears are tailing so ? 

 The old man may weep for his to-morrow 



Which is lost in long ago. 

 The old tree is leafless in the forest — 



The old year is ending in the frost ; 

 The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest — 



The old hope is hardest »o be lost ! 

 But the young children, O my brothers! 



Do ye ask them why they stand 

 Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers, 



fn our happy fatherland ? 



They look up with their pale and sunken faces, 



And their looks are sad to see ; 

 For man's grief untimely draws and presses 



Down the cheeks of infan'^y. 

 ■' Vour old earth," they say, " is very dreary — 



Our young feet,'' they say " are very weak ' 

 Few paces have we taken, yet are weary — 



Our grave-rest is very far to seek ! 

 Ask the old why they weep, and not the ciiildren. 



For the outside earth is cold- 

 Anil vve young ones stand without, in our bewild'ring. 



And the graves are for the old, 



' True,' said the young children , ' it may happen 



That we die before our lime ! 

 Little Alice died last year — the grave is sliapea 



Like a snowball, in the rune. 

 We looked into the pit prepared to take her — 



Was no room for any work in the dost clay! 

 From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, 



Crying — 'get up little .-Vlicc, it is day !' 

 If you listen by that grave in sun and shower, 



With your ear down, little Alice never cries; 

 Could we see her lace, be sure we should not know her. 



For the ncio smile which has grown witliin her eyes. 

 For merry go her muuients, lulled and stilled in 



The shroud, by the kirk chime ! 

 ' ft is good when il happens,' say the children, 



That we die before our time !'" 



Alas, 'he young children ! Ihey are seeking 



Death in lile. as best to have ! 

 They are binding up their hearts away from breaking, 



With a cerenient from the grave. 

 Go out. chiklren, from the mine and from the city — 



Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do I 

 Pluck yourhandfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty — 



f.augh loud to feel your fingers let them through ! 

 But the children say—" .\re cowslips of the meadows 



Like the weeds anear the mine ?* 

 Leave us quiet in the dark of our coal-siiadows, 



From your pleasures fair and tine. 



' f*'or oh 1' say the children, '" we are weary-.- 



.\nd we cannot run or leap : 

 If JVC cared for any meadows, it were merely 



To drop down in them and sleep. 

 Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping — 



We fall on our face trying tfi go j 

 And nnderiiealh our heavy eyelids drooping. 



The reddest Jloiver would look uspale as snow. 

 For ail day, we drag our burden tiring, 



Tlirougii the coal-dark underground — 

 Or. all day, we drive the wheels of iron 



bi the factories round and round, 



,\ll day long the wheels are droning, turning — 



Their wind comes in our faces ! 

 Till our hearts turn, and our heads ivilb pulses burning, 



.\nd the walls turn in their places! 

 Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling — 



Turns the long light that droppeth down the wall — 

 Turn the black ffies that crawl along the ceiling — 



Are all turning all the day, and we with all ! 

 All day long, the iron wheels are droning — 



And sometimes we could pray — 

 '■ O ye wheels, (breaking off in a mad moaning) 



Stop 1 be silent for to day !" 



Ay.be silent! let them hear each other breathing, 



For a moment, mouth to mouth ; 

 Let them touch each other's hands, In a fresh wreathing 



Of their tender human youth ; 

 Let them feel that this cold metalic motion 



Is not all the lite God givetli them to use; 

 Let them prove their inward snuls against the notion 



That thev live in you, or under you, O wheels ! 

 Still, all day , the iron wheels go onward, 



.\s if fate in each were stark ! 

 And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward, 



Spin on blindly in the dark. 



Now, tell the weary children. Oh my brothers I 



That they look to him and pray 

 For the blessed one who blesseth all the others. 



To bless them another day, 

 Thry answer — " Who is God that he should hear us. 



