102 



NEAV ENGLAND FARMER. 



Feb. 



Neither, in my estimation, is worthy of particu- 

 lar praise or dispraise for their different pecu- 

 liarities. 



I reached Blooming Grove in the evening. — 

 The moon was just climbing up and looking over 

 the tops of the mountains on the east. I had 

 often, when passing up and down the Hudson, 

 looking upon the majestic wall of rock which 

 rose up on the west bank to mountain-height, 

 wished to see what there was behind the wall. 

 Now, I had got in behind the wall. The scenery 

 was grand, by moonlight. 



Stepping out of the cars at the "Washington- 

 ville station, I was agreeably surprised to find a 

 gentleman in waiting for me. I soon found my- 

 self at the quiet, comfortable home of a gentle- 

 man whose plain exterior would have suggested 

 to those fancy-judges who measure men's minds 

 by the cloth or leather they wear, an opinion far 

 from fact, I had fallen in with an extraordinary 

 man — a thorough scholar and a man of extensive 

 knowledge. 



^lorning light afforded a fine view of the coun- 

 try. In the distance, at the north, away up the 

 Hudson, were seen the towering summits of the 

 Catskill mountains. On the east, the mountains 

 which skirt the Hudson. On the west, at a dis- 

 tance of some fifteen or twenty miles, another 

 mountain-range. On the south, towards Sussex 

 county, N. Y.,bold and broken elevations saluted 

 the eye. Thus encircled, lay a beautiful basin, with 

 undulating surface cut by meandering streams, 

 comprising the most celebrated dairy district in 

 the whole country. If it is not a chosen home 

 for the Israel of the Lord, it certainly has some 

 of the characteristics of the grazing-ground of 

 the ancient Israel, for it is near to Goshen, and 

 the trade of the people is in cattle, so far at least, 

 that milk and butter are their celebrated pro- 

 ducts. It is, moreover, like the land which God 

 chose for His ancient people when they came up 

 out of Egypt. It is a land of brooks and foun- 

 tains of water. It flows with milk, and since my 

 coming the flow of honey has both been sufficient 

 and very satisfactory. 



The hills and valleys are covered with eviden- 

 ces of the luxuriant growth of sweet grasses. 

 The forests present a grand growth of oak and 

 hickory interspersed with a few other trees. The 

 soil is well supplied with clay and lime. The 

 subsoil is stiff and wet. It is neither very rocky 

 nor free from stones. Water is generally hard. 

 Streams are sufficiently wanting in clearness, at 

 this time of year, to indicate the nature and con- 

 dition of the soil. The dairies are large, making 

 fine profits both by the sale of milk and the man- 

 ufacture of butter. The butter is mostly put up 

 in firkins, tubs or pails, whichever you please to 

 call them, containing eighty (80) pounds. It us- 

 ually commands several cents per pound more 

 than the common price of butter in New York. 

 It is mostly, I think, in the hands of the produc- 

 ers, yet, for this year. 



Murderer's Creek runs through the place. A 

 few miles west, on the other side of Goshen, is 

 the Wallkill river ; and yet a few miles farther 

 is the Shawangunk river, which two unite in Ul- 

 ster county, and then swallowing Ilondout Creek, 

 push forward to Ilondout, on the Hudson, where 

 they hide their waters in that river, opposite to 

 Rhinebeck. 



The farmers here buy a great deal of grain to 

 feed their cows. Yet the quality of their pastur- 

 age and of their hay, for such purposes, is as 

 good as the world can produce. But they reckon 

 a clear gain from the high-feeding of their cows, 

 in three ways ; namely, in the better condition 

 of their stock, the better quantity and quality of " 

 their butter, and the increased quantity and qual- 

 ity of the manure which is made. Will the farm- 

 ers of New England "stick a pin there ?" 



Wherever I turn my eyes, the country gives 

 evidence of the industry, intelligence, sobriety 

 and thrift of the people. Their farm-houses and 

 their farms testify in their favor. Their homes 

 are the homes of quiet and of moral and social 

 happiness. c. 



Blooming Grove, N. T., Dec. 10, 1857. 



A THOUGHT. 



The rose that's wet with summer rain, 



Or filled with early dew. 

 Sheds richer perfume o'er again, 



And glows with lovelier hue ; 

 The pearly drops that light within 



Its leafy chalice rest, 

 But fresher beauties for it win, 



Its fragrant charms attest. 



So hearts bowed down with weight and care, 



Or crushed with bitter grief. 

 Show clearly what their virtues are. 



While waiting for relief; 

 Each tender pang is sweet that springs 



From hearts by sorrow riven ; 

 If on its parting breath it brings 



Some dearer hope of Heaven. 



A GOOD MOWEB. 



The farmers will brag as well as grumble. The 

 weather is never just right, and their crops are 

 all bound to be ruined ; but after they are in, 

 they do love to tell what famous ones they have 

 had, and how much work they did in no time at 

 all getting them under cover. "Out in Michigan 

 last summer," Avrites a friend, "a number of far- 

 mers Avere sitting in front of a country store at 

 the close of a sultry day, and telling stories about 

 their work, and so on, when one of them took the 

 rag off the whole of them by relating his experi- 

 ence :" "I say, you have all told whopping big 

 yarns now; but I'll just tell you what I done once 

 ni York State, on the Genesee Flats, and on my 

 father's farm. He owned a meadow just a mile 

 long, and one morning in June I begun to mow 

 — sun about an hour high — and mowed right 

 along the whole length of the field. The grass 

 was so heavy that I had to moAV down to the low- 

 er end of the field and walk, or, as we say, 'carry 

 my swarth.' Well, I worked on till sundown, 

 and then quit. I just thought, as the meadow 

 was exactly a mile long, I'd count the swarths, 

 and I did, and there was one Imndred! That gen- 

 tlemen, is what York State folks call a big day's 

 work." "So you walked two hundred miles that 

 day, did you ?" asked one farmer. "And mowed 

 all the while you was walking ?" said another. 

 "So it seems," replied the great mower. "I tell 

 you the facts, and you can make as much of it as 

 vou can." 



