No. 3. 



Sweet Home. 



95 



ments necessary for preserving tliem, is but 

 small, indeed nothing, wlien the increased 

 fertility of the soil and the increased crop 

 arc considered. It may not be convenient 

 to make tanks or reservoirs with cemented 

 floors and walls, but a hole could be dug in 

 or near the barn-yard, into which all the 

 iluid portions of the decomposing manure 

 could be made to flow, and if not too trou- 

 blesome or expensive, some kind of pass- 

 age could be made for leading ofl^ all the 

 fluid materials from the house into the same 

 receptacle. Our farmers must learn that 

 nothing should be wasted — not one of them 

 can afford to throw away those resources 

 that lie at his hand. It is asking too much 

 from nature, to be kind to the improvident. 

 In England, and several other parts of Eu- 

 rope, where necessity makes them alive to 

 every thing that can be made available in 

 the cultivation of their lands, they are very 

 particular in the preservation of liquid ma- 

 nures. The same judgment must be exer- 

 cised in their use as in the other manures. 

 On light and porous soils they are of great 

 benefit in giving strength and consistency, 

 bat on tenacious, clayey soils, it will be un- 

 safe to give up the use of solid manure — 

 with these the liquid are used with better 

 effect as a top-dressing. 



Sheep-folding, as a mode of collecting 

 manure, is another European device to keep 

 their lands in condition. So few persons in 

 the United States have large flocks of this 

 animal, that it cannot be considered as a 

 plan of much importance to our farmers. 

 But as a matter of curiosity, they may know 

 that the ground is ploughed, and then the 

 sheep sometimes in flocks of two thousand 

 or more, are enclosed by a movable hurdle 

 fence, within a given space. They stay 

 there during the night only, and in the day 

 are sent forth to feed. The next night they 

 are put on a new portion of ground, and so 

 on, till the whole field to be manured is gone 

 over. On a small scale many of our farmers 

 might do the same thing, by having a fence 

 made with wheels, that could be drawn from 

 one field to another. It would be a mode of 

 preserving the manure and turning it to an 

 immediate advantage, that may in some cir- 

 cumstances be worth while. 



But besides the e.xxrements of animals, of 

 whose utility there is no doubt, the animal 

 itself may be made to play its part in the 

 art of cultivation. Instead of the bodies of 

 our various animals when they die, being- 

 buried, and serving no purpose whatever, 

 they may, by being covered with quick lime 

 and earth, and afl;er they have gone through 

 the most offensive part of the process of pu- 

 trefaction, be turned to an extremely active 



manure, and their bones softened by quick 

 lime and pulverized, are equally efficacious. • 

 Horn is a still stronger manure than bones, 

 but should only be used for such crops as do 

 not suffer from an excess of manure ; and 

 indeed, all parts tiiat we now reject, hair, 

 blood, &c., are all highly nutritive. 



A. L. Elwyn, 



Note. — As to the remark of fresh ma- 

 nure being put on in the autumn and allowed 

 to remain till spring, one of my neighbours 

 seven or eight years ago, did this accident- 

 ally on a field, where now the effect is easily 

 seen and contrasts with the rest of the pas- 

 ture. The strong effect noticed, is no doubt 

 from the slight evaporation during winter, 

 and from the stronger parts of the manure 

 being carried into the ground by snow and 

 rain. 



At Home! Sweet Home! 



From "Songs in the Night"— a beautiful volume of 

 Sacred Poetry, recently published in Boston. 



Where burns the fireside brightest, 



Cheering the social breast? 

 Where beats the fond heart lightest, 



Its humble hopes possessed? 

 Where is the hour of sadness 



With meek-eyed patience borne? 

 Worth more than those of gladness, 



Which mirth's gay cheeks adorn t 

 Pleasure is marked with fleetness 



To those who ever roam. 

 While grief itself hath sweetness 



At home— sweet home ! 



There blend the ties that strengthen 



Our hearts in hours of grief— 

 The silver links that lengthen 



Joy's visits when most brief; 

 There, eyes in all their splendor. 



Are vocal to the heart, 

 And glances, bright and tender, 



Fresh eloquence impart; 

 Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure? 



Oh do not widely roam. 

 But seek that hidden treasure 



At home — sweet home. 



Does pure religion charm thee, 



Far more than aught below? 

 Would'st thou that she should arm thee 



Against the hour of wo? 

 Her dwelling is not only 



In temples built for prayer, 

 For home itself is lonely. 



Unless her smiles be there ; 

 Wherever we may wander, 



'Tis all in vain we roam, 

 If worshiplcss her altar 



At home— sweet homo ! 



