THE FARMER'S MONTHLY VISITOR. 



7% 1842. 



Some of tlie goor] people in Scotland were op- 

 posed at first, to the new vegetable, declaring 

 that "potatoes are not mentioned in the Bible." — 

 Some of the priests in the Ionian Islands, at a 

 latter period, exponents probably of the preju- 

 dices of the people, manifested their hostility by 

 alleging that the potato was the forbidden fruit, 

 the cause of man's fall; and of course its use 

 was both immoral and irreligious. Of a piece 

 with this was the hostility cf the French to the 

 growth of the potato in their country, in their 

 voting against a benevolent gentleman, who took 

 pains to foster its culture, under the plea that he 

 had invented the potato. 



The potato was introduced from England into 

 the Netherlands and thence into Germany, in 

 the early pari of tlie last century. It was first 

 cultivated in Sweden in 1720, but notwithstand- 

 ing the exertions and recommendation of Lin- 

 nteus, it did not come into general cultivation un- 

 til 1764, when a royal edict was published for 

 the encouragement of this branch of husbandry. 

 In France, tnucli of the final success of its 

 more extended cultivation, was due to the exer- 

 tions of the benevolent Parmenter, who perse- 

 vered amidst open opposition and ridicule of all 

 kinds. For a while the king, Louis XVI, and his 

 court wore the flower of the potato in the but- 

 ton-holes of their coats, as a means of enlisting 

 popular favor, or, what at that time was equiva- 

 lent, fashion on its side. The dearth in the first 

 years of the French revolution, served to direct 

 attention more and more to the cultivation of the 

 potato, which, after a time, became general. To 

 it were the people of France and some other 

 parts of Europe indebted for protection against 

 famine, in the disastrous years of 1816 and 1817. 

 We might suppose, however, from the following 

 incident, that the prejudices against the root 

 were not so great in all parts of France, even at 

 the time in which farmcnter was laboring so 

 bard in its favor. In the seven years war — 1750 

 —1763— a small detachment of the French army, 

 ■while in Saxony, having its supplies wholly cut 

 off", the soldiers subsisted for eight or ten days 

 entirely on jiotatoes obtained from the iields ; 

 nor was the manner of living considered among 

 them as by any means a hardship. Less than 

 thirty years before this event, the potato was un- 

 knownto the agricidturists of Saxony. 



About the middle of the last centiuy, the cul- 

 ture of the potato in Switzerland, which was be- 

 gun in 1720, had so much increased, that it con- 

 stituted the food of two thirds of the people.— 

 In the present day it still forms a leading article 

 of food among the peasantry of that country. It 

 likewise makes a veiy prominent figure in the 

 productive husbandry of Poland, where it is 

 cultivated to an extraordinary extent. In 1837, .ns 

 much as 4,288,185 kovzecs of potatoes(each kovzec 

 being nearly equal to two hundred weight) were 

 produced in that country. In Italy, within the 

 present century, the cultivation of the potato has 

 been greatly encouraged: and the traveller, in 

 the city of Naf)les, for instance, must rememlter 

 the large vessels filled with boiled potatoes, in 

 the public streets, and near the royal palace it- 

 self, from which, at a cheap rate, the poor and 

 lazzaroni can procure a wholesome meal — the 

 supply oftheir fiivorite maccaroni being deficient 

 or too dear. 



The potato waa introduced into India some 

 sixty or seventy years ago, and it is now success- 

 fully cultivated in Bengal, and it has been in 

 duced into the Madras provinces and Java, the 

 Phillippines and China. But in common it does 

 not thrive within the tropics, unless it be gn 

 at an elevation of 3,000 or 4,000 feet above the 

 level of the sea, so that it can never come into 

 very general use in those regions. It has well 

 been remarked by Mc'Cullnoli, "So rapid an ex- 

 tension of the taste for, and the cidlivation of an 

 exotic, has no parallel in the history of industry: 

 it has had, and will continue to have, the most 

 powerful influence on the condition of mankind." 

 In the U. States, potatoes are cultivated to a great 

 extent, and form a regular part of the daily food 

 of a vast majority of the inhabitants. During the 

 year 1840, there were upwards of a hundred 

 millions bushels raised, of which the State of 

 New York yielded thirty millions, Pennsylvania 

 more than nine millions and a half, Maine up- 

 wards of ten millions, Vermont more tlian eight 

 millions. New Hampshin; six millions, Massa- 

 chusetts five millions, Oiiio about the same quan- 



ty. From the most northern to the extreme 

 southern limits — from Maine to Louisiana, we 

 find this esculent root largely cultivated, in this 

 country, the potato has its proper rank, as an ar- 

 icle of food — auxiliary at nil times, and in re- 

 serve on extra occasions, but not as in Ireland 

 the chief subsistence. 



Potatoes eaten raw, have been found to be a- 



tnong the best retnedies for the scurvy, as well as 



an excellent preventative. — Hartford Courant. 



From the Northern Light. 

 THE NORTHERN PINE. 



BY KREDEKICK W. COLE. 



When the mournful wail of the autumn gale 



Was heard in the pathless wood, 

 And its golden pride o'er the hill's strewn wide, 



Fell around me where I stood — 

 The same strong hand that so harsh could seize 

 .\nd wring such woe from the leafless trees. 

 Brought tones as soft as the zephyr breeze, 



From a harp of a happier mood. 

 'Twis the brave old Pine that disdained to whine 



For the loss of the summer sheen — 

 Through the sultry heat and driving sleet. 



He can keep his tranquil mien. 

 The winter may come — it will not alloy 

 His dreamy song of contented joy, 

 And he smiles at the frost that can never destroy 



His robe of perennial green. 

 L'nblenching Pine' be thy courage mine, 



In the whirl of changing time ; 

 That the chilling breath of approaching deatll 



On my heart-strings soft may chime : 

 Let my springs be uot in earthly clod 

 By the step of the dark despoiler trod — 

 But by holy trust may I dwell wiUi God, 



In his pure and changeless clime. 

 Albany, May, 1842. 



The Bushel of Corn. 



BY T. S. AltTUlR. 



Farmer Gray had a neighbor who was not the 

 best tetnpercd man in the world, though mainly 

 kind and obliging. He was n shoemaker. His 

 name was Burton. One day in harvest time, when 

 every hand on the farm was busy as a bee, this 

 man came over to Farmer Gray's, and said, 

 rather a petident tone of voice — 



"Mr. Gray, I wish you woidd send over and 

 drive your geese home." 



" Why so, Mr. Barton ; what have my geese 

 been doing?" said the fanner, in a mild quiet 

 tone. 



"They pick my pigs' cars when they are eat 

 ing, and go into my garden, atid I will not havt 

 it!" the neighbor replied in a still more petulent 

 voice. 



"I am really sorry for it, neighbor Barton ; but 

 what can I do ?" 



" Why yoke them, and thus keep them on your 

 own premises. It's no kind of way to let y 

 geese run all over every farm and garden in the 

 neighborhood." 



" But I cannot see to it now. It is harvest time 

 friend Barton, and every man, woman and child 

 on the farm has as much as he or she can do. 

 Try and bear it for a week or so, and then I will 

 see if I can po.ssibly remedy the evil." 



" I can't bear it, and I wont bear it any longer !" 

 the shoemaker said. " So if you don't take care 

 of them, friend Gray, I shall have to take care of 

 them for you." 



"Well, neighbor Barton, you can do as you 

 please," farmer Gray i-eplied in his usual quiet 

 tone. "I am sorry that they trouble you, but I 

 cannot attend to them now." 



"I'll attend to them for you, see if I don't," the 

 shoemakersaid, still more angrily,and then turned 

 upon his heel and strode off' towards Ids own 

 house, which was quite near. 



"What upon earth can be the matter with them 

 geese.'" Mrs. Gray said about fifteen minutes af- 



"I really cannot tell, unless neighbor Barton is 

 taking care of them. He threatened to do so if I 

 didn't yoke them right oft'." 



"Taking care of them! How taking care of 

 them ?" 



"As to that I am quite in the dark. Kilhng 

 them, perhaps. He said they picked at his pigs' 

 ears and drove them away when they were eating. 



and that he would not have it. He wanted me to 

 yoke them right off, hut that I could not do, as all 

 the hands are busy. He then sai<l, that if 1 didn't 

 take care of them, he woidd. So 1 suppose he is 

 engaged in the neighborly busiuess of taking care 

 of our geese." 



"John! William! run over and see what Mr. 

 Barton is doing with my geese," Mrs. Gray said, 

 in a quick and anxious tone, to two little boys 

 who were playing near. 



The iMchins scampered off', well pleased to 

 perform any errand. 



"Oh, if lie has dared to do any thing to my 

 geese, 1 will never forgive him!" the good wife 

 said, angrily. 



" Ilu-s-h, Sally ! make no rash speeches. It is 

 more than probable that he has killed some two 

 or three of thciii. But nevermind if he has. He 

 will got over his [.et, and be sorry for it. 



" Ves ; but what good will his being sorry do 

 me. Will it bring my geese to life?" 



"Ah, well, Sally, never mind. Let ns vvait until 

 we learn what all this disturbance is about." 



In about ten minutes the children came home, 

 bearing the bodies of three geese, each without 

 a head. 



"Oh, isn't that too much for human endin-- 

 ance?" exclaimed Mrs. Gray. "Where did you 

 find them ?" 



" We found thein lying out in the road," said 

 the oldest of the two children. "And when we 

 picked them up, Mr. Barton said — 'Tell your fii- 

 ther that I have yoked his'gee.se for him, to save 

 him the trouble, as his hands are all too busy to 

 do it.' •' 



"I'd sue him for it !" suid Mrs. Gray in an in- 

 dignant tone. 



"And what good would that do, Sally?" 



"Why it would ilo a great deal of good. It 

 would teach him belter manners. It would pun- 

 ish him ; and he deserves punishment." 



" And punish us into the bargain. We have 

 lost three geese now, but we still have their good 

 fat bodies to eat. A lawsuit woidd cost us a good 

 many geese, and not leave us even so imich as 

 the feathers, besides giving us a world of trouble 

 and vexation. No, no, Sally— just let it rest, and 

 he will be sorry for it, 1 know." 



"Sorry lor it, indeed! And what good will his 

 being sorry for it do us, I should like to know? 

 Next, he will kill a cow, and then we must be 

 satisfied with his being sorry for it! Now, I can 

 tell you that I don't believe any thing about his 

 being sorry, the crabbed, ill-natured wretch." 



"Don't call hard names, Sally," farmer Gray» 

 suid, in a mild, soothing tone. " Neighbor Barton 

 was not himself when he killed the geese. Like 

 every other angry per.son, he was a little insane, 

 and did what he would not have done had he been 

 perfectly in his right mind. When you are a little 

 excited, you know, Sally, that even you do and 

 say unreasonable things." 



" Me do and say unreasonable things !" exclaim- 

 ed Mrs. Gray, with a look and tone of indignant 

 astonishment ; " Me say and <lo unreasonable 

 things when I'm angry ! I don't understand you, 

 Mr. Gray." 



"May be I can help you a little. Don't you 

 remember how angry you were when Mr. Mel- 

 Ion's old brindle got into our garden, and tramp- 

 ed over your lettuce bed, and how you struck her 

 with the' oven i)ole, and knocked off one of her 

 horns ?" 

 " But I didn't mean to do that, though." 

 " No, but then you were angry, and struck old 

 brindle with a right good will. And if Mr. Mel- 

 lon had felt disposed, he might have prosecuted 

 for damages." 



" But she had no business there." 

 "Of course not. Neither had our geese any 

 business in neighbor Barton's yard. But, perhaps 

 I can help you to another instance, that will be 

 more conclusive in regard to your doing and say- 

 ing unreasonable things when your are angry. 

 You remember the patent ciiurn ?" 

 " Yes, but never mind about that." 

 "So you have not forgotten how unreasonable 

 you were about the cliurn. It wasn't good for 

 any thing — yon knew it wasn't ; and you'd never 

 put a jar of cream into it as long as you lived— 

 that you wouldn't. And yet, on"trial, you found 

 that churn the best you had ever used, and now 

 wouldn't part with it on any consideration. So 

 you see, Sally, that even you can say and do un 

 reasonable things when you are angry just us wel 



