312 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



July 



i'li> 



nights, as they rouse themselves from their morn- 

 ing nap, experience feelings of real misery, which, 

 if they were not the result of a criminal abuse of 

 health that ought to be abandoned at once, would 

 seem to justify them, if any thing can, in taking 

 •'a little something" to steady the nerves and to 

 wake them up. The doctor has no patient that 

 needs it more. Here is indeed a real "case of 

 sickness." But as the remedy touches not the 

 disease, the patient finds that the more he doses 

 the more he must, to keep comfortable. Poor 

 fellow, what are large wages to him, now that 

 his medicine has become his master 1 



Since I commenced these articles, one corres- 

 pondent of the Farmer has asked, and probably 

 a great many readers have thought of asking. 

 Why do not city mechanics oftener try farming, 

 if ail I say of their hard lot is true ? There are 

 undoubtedly many reasons for it, but the want 

 of sufficient health and strength is the most con- 

 clusive. Look at a sedentary city mechanic, — a 

 jour, tailor, jeweler, engraver, or painter, — what 

 can he do at farming ? His hands are small and 

 delicate, his sinews are unstrung, and every way 

 his physical system has become unfitted for farm- 

 ing, in proportion as it is fitted and conformed to 

 the necessities of his trade. He can perhaps sit 

 all day long bent nearly double, and by much 

 practice he can ply the needle, tlie brush, or the 

 graver, with wonderful dexterity ; but give him 

 an axe or a scythe, or set liim at the plow or at 

 building fence, and you will soon discover a sat- 

 isfjictory answer to the question proposed, and 

 see why it is very dangerous if not very foolish 

 for such mechanics to attempt the realization of 

 their agricultural dreams, although the distance 

 between them and Kanzas "lends enchantment to 

 the view." 



We close this article with a brief summary of 

 our argument. Mechanics live some eighteen 

 years less than farmers ; many are half dead 

 while they do live ; and their systems often be- 

 come so conformed to the peculiarities of their 

 business that they are good for nothing else, and 

 consequently cannot return to the farm if they 

 are ever so well satisfied that they made a mistake 

 in leaving it and becoming 



Boston, May, 1855. A City Mecdanic. 



For the Neiv England Farmer. 



THE OAKES COW. 



Friend Brown : — The life-like picture of the 

 most celebrated cow of New England origin, to- 

 gether with the facts of her history, contained in 

 the Far/tier of Saturday last, are the most satis- 

 flictory answers that can be given to the inquiry, 

 "What is a native cow ?" In vieAv of these facts, 

 there are a few who will presume to deny the 

 right of this animal to this appellation. 



1 have been not a little surprised, in looking 

 over the returns of our several Agricultural Soci- 

 eties, to see with what avidity all facts tending to 

 magnify the importance of imported breeds, are 

 seized and published. There is a sort of aristo- 

 cratic consequence connected with these, not un- 

 like that claimed by the higher classes of citizens 

 in our cities and villages, which keeps at a dis- 

 tance those of humbler origin. In an elaborate 

 report on stocks, from the county of Bristol, con- 



tained in the volume of Massachusetts Agricul- 

 ture, recently published, the writer, after running 

 down the Devons (first introduced to our shores 

 by the Plymouth pilgrims,) to the lov?est point 

 of degeneracy, remarks, "our native cattle are 

 not without great merit." If it be true that, 

 amid all the deprivations and hardships they had 

 to encounter, they still retain "great merit," 

 why deny them the power of perpetuating their 

 own characteristics? Tliis power is claimed ex- 

 clusively for animals recently imported. Is there 

 not something arbitrary in this pretension'? I 

 have not in mind so distinctly the history of these 

 races, as to speak with entire confidence ; but, 

 judging of a New England cow as I would of 

 any other class of animals, I should say, under 

 a proper care and keeping, with due regard to 

 her associates, she would be as likely to rear a 

 good calf as any other breed of animals. Pos- • 

 sibly she may have been so overfed, to increase 

 her milk, as to impair her procreative energies ; 

 but such overfeeding does not in the least im- 

 pugn the principle for which I would contend. 

 Equality I readily grant to foreigners — superi- 

 ority never. * 



Remarks. — As we understand it, purity of blood 

 comes from long and careful breeding of the same 

 type ; if of Devon, then of the best Jjlood of the 

 Devon, on both sides, for several generations, and 

 so of any other breed. Our common cattle are a 

 mixture of various breeds, but that this mixture 

 is not as profitable stock for us as any of the 

 pure breeds, we are not ready to assert. 



For the New Eni^land Farmer. 



SHOET HISTOHY FOR YOUNG MEN. 



Mr. Brown : — Having been a constant reader 

 of the N. E. Farmer for the past twelve months, 

 and having derived a great deal of information 

 from its pages, I have come to the conclusion 

 that my two dollars was a good investment, and 

 that myself and family cannot well dispense with 

 its weekly visits. You will find enclosed two dol- 

 lars for another year's subscription. 



Having seen several times in your paper the 

 contrast between country and city life, some of 

 the circumstances mentioned have applied very 

 nearly to my own case, so much so, that I take 

 the liberty to write a few lessons that I have 

 learned. 



When I was eighteen years of age, I had be- 

 come pretty tired of working on my fiither's 

 farm, and being pretty well tickled up with the 

 fine stories and fine clothes that some of my ac- 

 quaintance had l:)rought from Boston, I came to 

 the conclusion that farming was not respectable 

 enough, and would never do for me, and that I 

 must at some rate or other live a city life of in- 

 dependence. All the persuasions and threats of 

 my father were of no avail ; go to Boston I must, 

 so my friends concluded to let me try it. In 1840, 

 I found myself in Boston, without any other oc- 

 cupation than to take my chance as a laborer at 

 anything that should present itself for me to do ; 

 at this time business was dull, and had it not 

 been for an acquaintance, I should have bad to 

 return home with disappointment ; but at last, I 



