.4. 



JV. BiddWs Address. 



131 



in off the water which cannot now pene- 

 ;e the stiff sod. This subsoil plough, of 

 ich specimens will be exhibited to you in 

 ual operation, is, I think, one of the best 

 jrovements of the last few years, and as 

 ong our farmers temperate habits are 

 versa!, I hope that instead of deep drink- 

 , they will take to deep ploughing. 

 \nd now, let me say a few words on the 

 leral subjects of farming — they shall be 

 re hints on which I wish you to reflect 

 en we separate, and perhaps you may 

 n them to some advantage, 

 n this section of our State, our garden- 

 ■ is better than our farming. No one can 

 without satisfaction the great improve- 

 nt in our gardens, which furnish such an 

 indance of excellent and cheap fruits and 

 jetables, and flowers. Let us see if we 

 inot borrow something from that younger 

 ;er of farming. Now, what is the secret 

 successful horticulture] Is it not the 

 rough cultivation of a small piece of 

 >und, which, well manured, well worked, 

 ows out its treasures with the most pro- 

 ;al profusion. What would a gardener 

 with fifty acres'? He would concentrate 

 his force upon ten acres, and sell the rest, 

 ell, is not the same law applicable to farm- 

 r 1 and that brings us to the point that all 

 r farms are too large, that is, they are he- 

 ld the means of the farmers to cultivate 

 ;m well. If our farmers want to make 

 mey, they had better sell half their land, 

 d employ the proceeds in enriching the 

 ler half. 



In Pennsylvania there is a great deal of 

 mey invested in farms — but very little 

 mey employed in farming; this is a capi- 

 . error which runs through our whole sys- 

 n, though a very natural mistake, where 

 fid is really cheap and labour nominally 

 ar. The labour is the same as if a mer- 

 ant were to spend all his money in buy- 

 » a large store, and then have nothing to 

 rry on his business; for, after all, land is 

 ly a place where farming may be carried 

 I as a warehouse is a place where mer- 

 andize may be sold — but fields are not 

 ops, just as shelves are not goods, it is 

 hat we put in them or put on them, that 

 ves profit. If the land be left to itself, it 

 ill run to waste in a few years, just as idle 

 sss in the human race is sure to degenerate 

 to vice. Both can be kept useful and 

 Jalthy, only by constant action. We some- 

 rnes rely on nature, whom we call a boun- 

 ful nurse, but the nurse herself must be fed 

 jfore she can give nourishment to her chil 

 *en. No farmer, therefore, should have 

 ore land than he has the means of cultl 

 iting well, and if he does cultivate them 



well, they will be sure to yield an ample re- 

 turn. It is not land that gives profit, it is 

 manure— it is lime — it is marl — it is the 

 sweeping of stables— it is the scraping of 

 ditches mellowed by lime; these, humble 

 though they seem, are the objects of profit- 

 able expenditure. You all remember the 

 cock in the fable, who found a jewel in a 

 dung-hill, and did not know its value ; rely 

 upon it, that in the very centre of every 

 large heap of manure, there lies a hidden 

 jewel which a farmer can always find, and 

 convert into gold. 



The mention of the barn yard, reminds 

 me of a circumstance of some interest to 

 farmers, from its presumed connection with 

 the health and comfort of their country life. 

 In many parts of the country autumnal fe- 

 vers prevail, and in the effort to explain 

 what in the present state of our knowledge 

 is inexplicable, it has been asserted that 

 these fevers are caused by exhalations from 

 decaying vegetables; and accordingly the 

 latest immutable truth in medicine is, that 

 the decomposition of vegetable matter is the 

 cause of country fevers. If this be so, we 

 ought all to hasten home and clear out our 

 barn yards. 



On every farm in this country, a spot ia 

 selected, called a barn yard, into wdiich the 

 farmer hauls all the leaves and weeds, and 

 vegetables he can scrape together — to these 

 he adds all the decaying straw and litter of 

 his stables; he puts all this mass into the 

 sunshine, and from time to time, he turns 

 up the whole heap, in order that every part 

 of it may be well rotted. All his people 

 work in it, all his family inhale its atmos- 

 phere, and they ought, according to the re- 

 ceived theory, to die under these pestilential 

 exhalations. Yet they not only live, but 

 thrive, and it probably never entered into 

 the fancy of any human being, that he was 

 made sick by working in a barn yard. Now 

 if this very laboratory of decomposition of 

 vegetables is a healthy spot, what influence 

 can we ascribe to the same cause in forests 

 of hundreds of miles in extent, where the 

 leaves remain for years in the shade, without 

 any decay at all. Let us hope that our me- 

 dical friends may adopt some new theory, 

 that may leave us to work in our barn yards 

 without the dread of pestilence. 



And as you may use it healthfully, use it 

 freely. Never let any thing grow in your 

 fields but what you put there, and what you 

 put there make it grow richly. For in- 

 stance, as you came here this morning, you 

 passed many fields of Indian corn — but after 

 all, you saw more weeds than corn, and 

 weeds going to seed, and exhausting the 

 ground more than the corn itself. Now if 



