286 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



J L-NE 



good oxen. If the cattle dealers would have cheap- 

 er beef, let them try to reduce the duties, and 

 Canada will supply your market with good beef 

 at present ju-iocs for a time at least. 



Yours, W. Pierce. 



Stanstcad, March 2ls(, 1854. 



STICK TO THE FARM. 



liV IIENRV F. FRENCH. 



Stick to the farm, young men. Now when land 

 and its products, the true wealth of the nutiun, 

 are within your control — when corn and wheat, 

 and hay and cattle, and the produce of the dairy, 

 bring double their former prices, ..whih' the wages 

 of farm lcil)(jr, always the last to be afl'jcted by 

 fluctuations of business, or political afiairs, have 

 advanced comparatively little; now, when the 

 nations of the eartli are re-converting their plow- 

 .shares and pruning hooks into swords and spears, 

 when great armies are gathering together to des- 

 tro3' each other, and lay waste the beautiful earth, 

 which God has given toman to "till and to keep ;'' 

 now, when the labor of whole countries is diverted 

 from producing the means of feed and clothing 

 and sheltering and ])lessing nu^nkind, to a worse 

 than idle consumption uf the produce of your labor ; 

 now while the farmer is rapidly gaining the re- 

 spect and wealth and influence due to his position 

 as "lord of the land," be not seduced from your 

 honorable and independent place, by whisperings 

 of ambition, urging you to seek for wealth or ease, 

 or honor, in a city life. 



You are tempted to exchange the hard work of 

 the farm, to become a clerk in a city shop, to put 

 off your heavy boots and frock, and be a gentle- 

 man, behind the counter ! You, by birth and edu- 

 cation, intended for an ujiright, independent, manly 

 citizen, to call no man master, and to be no man's 

 servant, would Become at first, the errand boy of 

 the shop, to fetch and carry like a spaniel, then 

 the salesman to fill the place which at best, a girl 

 would fill much better — to bow and smile and 

 cringe and Hatter — to attend upon the wishes of 

 cveiy painted and padded form of humanity — to 

 huml)ly suggest to rakes and harlots, as well as to 

 starched and ruffled respectability, what color and 

 fabric best becomes the form and complexion of 

 each — and finally, to become a trader, a worship- 

 per of mammon, as Carlyle says, "a kind of hu- 

 man heaver that has learned the art of ciphering,'" 

 compelled to look anxiously at the pi-ices current 

 of cotton and railroad stocks, in order to learn 

 each morning, whetlier you are bankrupt or not, 

 and in the end, to fail and compromise with your 

 creditors and your conscience, and sigh for your 

 native hills. 



Or, perhaps, your party being in power, you 

 would obtain a clcrksliip at Washington, and re- 

 move your little fanuily from the north, to a more 

 genial climate, to live at your ease, and grow rich 

 on twelve hundred dollars a year ! Y'^ou give up 

 your little farm, your New England privileges of 

 schools and churclies, your independent and in- 

 fluential membcrsliip of parish, and district and 

 town and ciuirch, the woods and play-grounds for 

 your cliildren, your friends and kindred and home. 

 Twelve hundred dollars is a large sum to you, half 

 the price of your farm perhaps, twice the amount 

 of the minister's salary. With your habits of 

 economy and thrift, you can live on half the 



amount. Your ari-angements are to be made. 

 The homestead is sold, and you are landless. Af- 

 ter all, it is not so easy parting with our house- 

 hold gods. The trees our hands have planted 

 take root in our hearts, the vines and roses, twined 

 Ijy our own fingers, and those of our loved ones, 

 over rustic arbors, cling round us more closely 

 than we thouglit. Your labor has been mingled 

 with the soil of every field. Tears are in the eyes 

 of your wife, at every thought of departing, but 

 she trusts in your superior judgment, and no mur- 

 mur escapes her lips at your decision. 



You have left your home. At the end of a 

 single year in "the city oi magnificent distances," 

 you have bitter realizations of the meaning of that 

 phrase. It has proved indeed to be full of magni- 

 ficent distances, for you, from happiness, from in- 

 dependence, from advantages of every kind. For 

 the first time, you have felt how sore a thing it is, 

 for a northern freeman to be dependent, to labor 

 at stated hours, at the bidding of a superior officer, 

 to feel that the office you fill, ou which depend 

 3'Our very means of living, for j^ourself and family, 

 is held at the arbitrary will of another, who may, 

 if he please, make a servile conformity of your 

 views with his own, on political or What you may 

 deem moral questions, the condition, by which 

 you retain your place. You, who at home, had 

 never seen the man who dared claim to be your 

 superior, are foi'ced to submit to the iron rule of 

 caste, to send your card to the Secretary, whom 

 you once knew perhaps as an equal, and wait an 

 hour, with the colored servant in the hall, to be 

 told at last, to call another day — to be slipped 

 over, or shaken off by the "member" whom you 

 helped to elect, and who had now no further use 

 for you ; and consume your energies in endeavor- 

 ing to keep the toe of your boot from proximity 

 with that partof his person, where his hon6r holds 

 its seat — to be assessed to support party presses, 

 whose principles you may despise. In short, you 

 have sold your manhood for an office, your birth- 

 right for a mess of pottage. But the half is not 

 yet told, for the mess of pottage, even,isnotsufl5- 

 cient for your wants. Your salary is at starva- 

 tion point. You must pay two hundred dollars 

 for a house, with two parlors and a basement for 

 servants, without a cellar, without a closet, with- 

 out a pump or aqueduct, without a sink, or clothes- 

 yard or garden. Your wife with the aid of a ser- 

 vant, cannot do the work so easily as she did it 

 alone, at the north. All the water comes from 

 the city pump, a dozen rods oflT, in buckets ; the 

 slops are poured into the street, your clothing is 

 crammed into wardrobes, your supplies must be 

 procured daily at market, in contemptible quanti- 

 ties — in short, everything, except the parlors, 

 which are for show, and to make you seem i-espect- 

 able, must be richly carpeted and curtained, evei-y- 

 thing else is adapted to the idea, that labor is de- 

 gradmg, and that the comfort and convenience of 

 those who perform it is not worth consulting. 

 The thrift, and energy and comfort of northern 

 households, is unknown in this latitude. 



Look now, at the prices of necessary articles of 

 food. On your farm, however small, your cellar 

 was always filled with an unlimited supply of all 

 such vegetables, as you desired, and bai-rels of 

 beef and pork of your own slaghtering. Your 

 granary had always as much of corn and rye, and 

 perhaps of wheat, as you cliosc to use. Your 



