1854. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



383 



butter in the water with the churn or hand, till it 

 is well ^YaBhed; draw off the water and add as much 

 more and do as before ; draw that off and put in the 

 third quantity of water; t2ien take the butter out 

 of the third water ,workiiig it well with the hand as 

 :t*is taken out. Salt it well, and with tlie salt add 

 one teaspoonfuU of clean saltpetre, made fine, to 

 each fifteen pounds. Then pjut it in a cool place, 

 and the next day work it over well, and put it 

 down tight in layers of th.ree inches thick, put- 

 ting a little salt between the layers. Fill the tub 

 within one inch of full, then fill that inch with 

 salt. The tubs arc Ijettcr for having been used 

 for butter before, if kept sweet, but if the tul)8 

 are new, soak theia in brine till they are thor- 

 oughly salted. If the tubs are good and tight, so 

 that the brine is kopt over all the butter, it will 

 keep for twelve months,- in a suitable place, as 

 ^ood as when first made. If any proof is wanted, 

 i can refer to customers who have used such but- 

 ter for years. D. s. 

 Jajfrcy, June 30, 1854. 



For the New England Farmer. 



SUCCESSFUL FARMING, 



Mr. Editor : — I read an article some time ago 

 :n a number of the New Engla7id Farmer, vititten 

 by II. Stow, of Woodstock, Vt. I have waited, 

 hoping that some N. U. man would- tell us as 

 good a story as Mr. Sxow's, and not seeing any 

 yet, I thought I would give you a short sketch of 

 my own management, feeling not exactly willing 

 to admit that the sons of N. H. are much behind 

 those of Vermont. 



At the age of 21, I was out of health, not able 

 to work on a farm, and 1 went to work for a har- 

 ness maker for $8 per month. In a short time I 

 found myself at work in Roxbury , Mass. , for $16 per 

 month, but was compelled to quit that business on 

 account of my eyes. I returned to New Hampshire, 

 where land was cheap. I bought an old run-down 

 farm, paid $500 down, and gave a promise to pay 

 $900 more, and went to work on my old level farm. 

 The first year I cut not over 5 tons of hay, the 

 third year I raised 1100 bushels produce, — [po- 

 tatoes, corn, and the small grains, we suppose ;] 

 the fourth j-ear cut oyer 25 tons of hay. I made 

 about 100 loads of manure a year, by carting muck 

 into my yards. Tliero was but one man in this 

 town that made any use of muck at that time, ex- 

 cept a little in the hog-yard, and most of them 

 thought I was a fool lor shoveling so much mud. 

 Well, I paid for my farm, and in three winters I 

 collected the materials for a set of buildings, with 

 my own. hands. I cut and hewed my timber, cut 

 and logged to the mill for my sawed lumber, dug 

 my cellar, split and laid my stone-work, boarded 

 and shingled my buildings, assisted the joiner in 

 his part of the work, plastered and painted, and 

 have a good set of farm buildings, built in the 

 most thorough manner, and as handsome as any 

 in town. 



I keep a few tools for shoemaking, harness- 

 making, stone-work, joiner work, &c., &c. In 

 the winter eeason I make and repair almost every 

 article that I use ; in fact, I have a good break- 

 ing up plow, that I made myself, that I would 

 not exchange for my neighbor's of the premium 

 pattern. I liad not received by heirship an equiva- 

 lent to $30, at one-and-twenty, and have earned 



more dollars by working out, since *I bought my 

 farm, than I ever paid out for labor. I have paid 

 over $500 interest, and Iiave been laid up by sick- 

 ness more than two years. These are all facts. 

 If any young man who has commenced farming 

 as poor as I was, will be encouraged by them, and 

 say that "what man has done, man may do," 

 I shall be well paid for scribbling down thisskotci:. 

 I had forgotten to say that if I am not as well off 

 for spending money as your correspondent at 

 Woodstock, my friends do not call for a banker 

 if I chance to want a little change. 



B. W. Gay. 

 New London, N. H., 1854. 



THE SEER. 



BY JOHN' G. WUITTIER. 



I hoar the far-off voyager's horn, 



I hear the Yankee's trail — 

 nia foot on every mountain pass, 



On every stream his sail. 



lie's whistling round St. Mary's Falls, 



Upon his loaded train ; 

 He's leaving on the Pictured Rocks 



His fresh tobacco stain. 



I hear the mattock in the mines, 



The axc-stroke in the dell, 

 The clamor from the Indian lodge, 



The Jesuit's chapel bell I 



I see the swarthy trappers come 



From Mississippi's springs ; 

 And war-chiefs with their painted bowa, 



And crests of eagle wings. 



Behind the squaw's birchen canoe, 



The steamer smokes and raves ; 

 And city lots are staked for sale 



Above old Indian graves. 



By forest lake and water-fall, 



I see the pedlar's show ; 

 The mighty mingling with the mean 



The lofty with the low. 



I hear the tread of pioneers 



Of nations yet to be ; 

 The first low wash of waves where soon 



Shall roll a human sea. 



The rudiments of empire here. 



Are plastic yet and warm ; 

 The chaos of a mighty world 



Is rounding into form I 



Each rude and jostling fragment soon 



Its fitting place shall find — 

 The raw materials of a state, 



Its muscles and its mind I 



And westering still the star which loads 



The new world in its train. 

 Has tipped r.-ith fire the icy spears 



Of many a mountain chain. 



Tiic snowy cones of Oregon 



Are kindle?! on its way, 

 And California's gulden sands 



Gleam brighter in its ray I 



Alcohol from Pka Pods. — The green" pea sea- 

 son and the scarcity of alcohol have given rise to 

 another unknown trade in Paris. Pea pods have 

 been, from time immemorial, in France, at least, 

 considered as perfectly wortliless, and have been 

 allowed to encumber the pig-pen in consequence. 

 The collecting of tliis rejected matter ))etween the 

 hours of 7 and 9 in the morning, has now become 



