August, 1842. 



THE FARMER'S MONTHLY VrSITOR. 



19 



a hasty brawl between bim and his i;uiiner Wil- 

 liam Moore, and at this day would have been le- 

 Kanloil as an act of nianslaii;;hter only. The 

 blow which caused his death uas inflicie,! wiilia 

 bucket, and was given in cmi:sei|iieiiie of irritat- 

 ing language useil by the deceased towards his 

 commander in angry dispute. 



It made however, but little practical difference 

 with the prisoner, whether the verdict was right 

 or wrong, for upon each of the five rndictments 

 which followed, he was convicted, and a general 

 sentence of death was pronounced upon liini. 

 Eight of his associates were convicted and sen- 

 tenced at the same time, but Kidd protested to 

 the last, that he had been sacrificed by perjured 

 witnesses. 



'J'liis sentence was soon after executed upon 

 hiin, and the name of "Captain Kidd" has ever 

 since been associated in the legends of our early 

 history, with that of the powers of darkness, and 

 the unsolved mystery of countless heaps of buri- 

 ed treasure. 



Knowledge is Power. 



In a late admirable report by Horace IMann 

 Esq., Secretary of the board of Eiincalion of 

 Mass., the following striking e.\emplification is 

 introduced of the iriaxim that "knowledge is 

 power." 



"M. Redelet, in his work, ' Sar I' Art de Bath-; 

 gives the following account of an experiment 

 made to test the difRrent amounts of force 

 which, under different circumstances, were ne- 

 cessary to move a block of squared granite weigh- 

 ing 1,080 lbs 



"In order lo move this block along the floor of 

 a roughly chiselled quarry, it required a force 

 etpial to 758 lbs. 



"To draw the same stone over a floor of planks, 

 it required a force equal to G52 lbs. 



" Placed on a platform of wood, the retjuisite 

 force was reduced to 182 lbs. 



"Placed on rollers of three inches in diameter, 

 and a force equal to 34 lbs. was sufticient. 



"Substituting a woodeji lor a stone floor, and 

 the requisite force was 98 lbs. 



'• With the same rollers on a wooden platform, 

 it required a force equal to 22 lbs. only. 



"At this point," says Mr. Mann, "the experi- 

 ments of Mr. Redelet stopped. But, by improve- 

 ments since effected, in the invention and use of 

 locomotives oil railroads, a traction or draught of 

 eight lbs. is sufficient to move a ton of 2,240 lbs. ; 

 so that a force of less than four pounds would 

 now be sufficient to move the granite block of 

 1,080 lbs. ; that is, one hundred and eighty-eight 

 times less than was required in the first iiislaiiee. 

 When, therefore, mere animal or muscular force 

 was used to move the bo<ly, it required about 

 two-thirds of its own weight to acconqilisli the 

 object; bul, by adding the connivances of mind 

 to the strength of mUsde, the force necessary to 

 remove il is reduced more than one hundred and 

 eighty-eight times. Here, then, is a |iarlnershi-p, 

 in which mind contributes one hundred and eigh- 

 ty-eight shares to the stock to one share contrib- 

 uted by muscle ; or while hrule slienglli represents 

 one man, ivgeiiuily or intelligence re|)resents one 

 huiulred and eighty-eight men.— .Va;. Int. 



Uses of Botany. 



Very many excellent people — men, women 

 and children — have made it a constant nde of 

 their lives, when they purpose doing anything, 

 to ask themselves what good i)urposo it would 

 answer. So we are now to answer the question 

 — What good will it do to study Botany.' Our 

 answer shall not be very long. 



First, it is a healthy employment. When we 

 say that the study of Botany is healthy, we mean 

 that it will lead you into healthy practice.^. You 

 will be abroad, every opportunity you have, rov- 

 ing among the trees, in the fields, or perhaps on 

 the mountains. You will be glad lo do so to 

 breathe the fragrant and pure air. And it is 

 liealthy. 



Secondly, it will lead you to observe what is 

 before you. Many boys and girls go through the 

 world almost without seeing it. Now, he who 

 has eyes, and does not use them in such a beau- 

 tiful world as this, is very much to be pitied. 

 But the study of Botany will learn him to keep 

 his eyes o|)en. The habit of noticing things 

 around you is called observation ; and a very im- 

 portant habit it in, too. 



Thirdly, the study of Botany — in which you 

 are obliged to sort, and arrange, and classify 

 things — will teach yon to be orderly and syste- 

 maric in other thii)g.<. Some boys and girls nev- 

 er have a particular place for every thing, and so 

 when they wish to find a needle, a pencil, a book, 

 a pair of scissors, or a penknife, they do not 

 know where to find it, and a great deal of t' 

 is often wasted in looking for it: this is a bad 

 habit, but is one which the study of Botany will 

 help to correct. 



Fourthly, it is said that the study of Botany 

 helps to make the temper mild and agreeable ; 

 and has a tendency to refine and improve the 

 mind ; it is also among the tiiost innocent things 

 in the world, as an .amusement. 



Lastly, it has a tendency to lead us to think of 

 God. Who can view the world of wonders con 

 tained in a single plant — its stems, branches, ves- 

 sels of sap, leaves, flowers, and choice fruit- 

 without turning his thoughts toward the grea 

 Maker of all things ? And this habit of looking 

 up lo God when we see his wonderful works— 

 in the flowers, the fruit, the beasts, the birds, the 

 insects — as well as the things that do not live, 

 move, or breathe — is said, by a great and goo 

 m-in, to be one of the best habits of mind wliic 

 we can possibly form. 



Some people, we know, think it very foolish to 

 spend time in wandering about the fields and 

 woods, and looking at the flowers and trees; but 

 if they knew how pleasant an exercise it is, they 

 would soon cease to thiidi so. 



"For my part," says an eminent writer for 

 children, "I love to leave the dusty town and 

 streets — and I did when I was a boy — and wan- 

 der through fields and woods to the tops of the 

 mountains and rocks, where there is a cool 

 breeze, and see the beautiful pro.spect, and sit by 

 the little brook as it tumbles and nunmurs over 

 the rocks and stones, and gatjier the wild flowers 

 that grow on its banks — while the birds are sing- 

 ing in the trees, and the squk-rels are chirping 

 around me." — Every Youth^s Gazette. 



Sarah Curran. 



She sings the wild song of her deir native plains, 

 Every note which he loved awaking — 



Ah ! little did they think wlio delight in her strains, 

 How the heart of the minstrel is breaking. 



He had liv'd for his love, for his country he died, 

 They were all that to lite had entwin'd him— 



JVor soon shall the tears of his country he drieii,, 

 JNor long will his love stay behind him. 



The evening before Robert Emmet's death, 

 Miss Curran was admitted into his dungeon to 

 bid hitii an eternal farewell. He was leanin;>- in 

 a melancholy mood against the window of his 

 prison, and the heavy clanking of his chains 

 smote dismally on her heart. The interview was 

 bitterly affecting, and melted even the callous 

 soul of the gaoler. As lor Emmet himself, he 

 wept and spoke little; but as he pressed his be- 

 loved in silence to his heart, his countenance be- 

 trayed his emotions. In a low voice, half choked 

 by anguish, he besought her not to forget him ; 

 he reminded her of their forjner happiness, of 

 the long Jiast ilays of their childhood, and con- 

 cluded by requesting her sometimes to visit the 

 scenes where their infajicy was spent, and though 

 the world might repeat his name with scorn, to 

 cling to his memory with affection. In parting 

 she turned round, as if to gaze once more on her 

 widowed love. He caught her eye as she retir- 

 ed ; it was but for a tnoment ; and as the door 

 closed on him, it informed her too surely that 

 they had met for the last time on earth, but they 

 should meet in a better world, where man could 

 not sepernte them. 



She loved Aim with the disinterested fervor of 

 a woman's first and only love. When every 

 worldly maxim arrayed itself against him ; when 

 blasted in fortime, and disgrace and danger dark- 

 ened around his name, she loved him the more 

 ardently for his very sufferings. If, then, his 

 fate could awaken the sympathy even of his foes, 

 what must have been "the agony of her wliose 

 whole soul was occupied by hie image ? liCt 



those who have had the portals of the tomb sud- 

 denly closed between them and the being they 

 most loved on earth — who have sat at its thresh- 

 old, as one shut out in a cold and lonely v\'orId 

 from whence all that was most lovely and loving 

 had departed. 



To render her widowed situation more deso- 

 late, she had incurred her father's displeasure by 

 her m)fortunate nitachmenl. and was an exile 

 from her paternal roof. But could the sympathy 

 and offices of friends have reached a st)irit so 

 shocked and driven in by horror, she would have 

 experienced no want of consolation, for the Irish 

 are proverbially a people of quick and generous 

 sensibilities. The most delicate and cherishing 

 attentions were paid her by families of wealth 

 and distinction. She was led into society, and 

 they tried by all kinds of occupation and amuse- 

 ment to dissipate her grief, and wean her from 

 the tragical story of her lover. But it was all in 

 vain. There are some strokes of calamity that 

 scorch the soul — that penetrate to the vital seat 

 of happiness — and blast it, never again to put 

 forth bud or blossom. She never objected to fre- 

 quent the haunts of pleasm-e, but she was as 

 much alone there as in the depths of solitude. 

 She wallted about in a sad reverie, apparently 

 unconscious of the world around her. She car- 

 ried within her an inward woe, that mocked all 

 the blandishments of friendship, and " heeded 

 not the song of the charmer, charm he ever so 

 wisely." 



On the occasion of a masquerade at the Ro- 

 tunda, her friends brought her lo it. There can 

 be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more 

 striking and painful than to meet it in such a 

 scene. To find it wandering like a sceptre, lone- 

 ly and joyless where all around is gay — to see it 

 dressed out in the trapjiings of mirth, and look- 

 ing so wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in 

 vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary 

 forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through 

 the splendid- rooms and giddy crowd with an air 

 of utter abstraction, she sat herself down on the 

 steps of an orchestrii,and looking about for some 

 time with a vacant air, that showed insensibility 

 to the garnish scene, she began, with the ca[)ric- 

 iousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plain- 

 tive air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this 

 occasion it was so simple, so touching, it breathed 

 forth such a soul of wretchedness, that she 

 drew a crowd, mute and silent around her, and 

 melted every one into tears. 



The story of one so true and tender, could not 

 but excite great interest in a country remarkable 

 for enthusiasm. It completely won the heart of 

 a brave olficer, who paid his addresses to her, 

 and thought that one so true to the dead could 

 not but prove affectionate to the living. She de- 

 clined his attentions, for her thoughts were irre- 

 coverably engrossed by the memory of her form- 

 er lover. lie, however, persisted in his suit. 

 He solicited not her tenderness but her esteem. 

 He was assisted by her conviction of his worth, 

 and her sense of her own destitute and depend- 

 ent situation for she was existing on the kindness 

 of friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in 

 gaining her hand, though with the solemn assur- 

 ance that her heart was unutterably another's. 



He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a. 

 change of scene might wear out the remem- 

 brance of early woes. She was an amiable and 

 an exemplary wife, and made an eilort to be a 

 happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent 

 and devouring melancholy that had entered upon 

 her very soul. She wasted away in a slow but 

 hopeless decline, and at length sunk into the 

 grave, the victim of a broken heart. 



For the Farmers Monthly Visitor. 

 Microscopic. 



Sometime since I saw in your Visitor a state- 

 ment that appletree lice were legged animals. 

 Doct. Z. Fisher of Kennebunk.I believe, was the 

 one who made the discovery. I have a small 

 double glass, that magnifies but 10 lineally, 100 

 superficially, and of course 1000 in magnitude. 



What is commonly called appletree lice are 

 but their hulk or houses, and never move more 

 .han any house. It contains from twenty to forty 

 eggs, which look very much like the pismire's 

 eg", but 1000 times smaller. They begm to 

 hatch out the first of June. After they are out 

 of their shell, and hulk, they look much like theif 

 eggs. Thev have many lege* and eat ihroiigh 



