1 64 [Assembly 



selves, cum una voce, would join in the universal chorus of ridi- 

 cule, which they would as richly deserve. Why, sir, for a practi- 

 cal illustration, I need only to take you a very short distance on 

 the Long Island Railroad, commencing almost in the immediate 

 vicinity of the city of Brooklyn, when you will begin to find 

 heaps of manure purchased from stables in the city at from six 

 to eight shillings per single horse cart load, ten of which making 

 a single car load, thrown by the road side, contiguous (to be sure) 

 as practicable, to the place designed for use, where it remains se- 

 veral months (until needed) perfectly exposed to both sun and 

 rain. Who does not fail to see, from the car trains in their daily 

 and weekly transit, past these multiplied deposits, if observant, 

 particularly after every shower, all the low places and cavities in 

 the surrounding surface of the ground, filled with a dark colored 

 decoction from the pile, unless, perchance, the current betakes 

 itself to the drain of the track beside, and is seen in full chase 

 until absorbed by the ditch itself; and, as I believe, I remarked 

 at the meeting of this club last week, what farmer, who has his 

 manure no better protected in his cattle yards and about his barn, 

 is not obliged, after every similar shower, to see a dark coffee-like 

 colored stream coursing its way, either to the gutters of the pub- 

 lic road side, or, perhaps, over a short descent to a neighboring 

 brook, giving its current an additional discoloring as far as it can 

 be seen. Sir, in seeing and witnessing so frequently these things, 

 I^m often led to query what do these farmers — if they are en- 

 titled to this honorable appellation — mean ? Can it be possible, 

 if they see all the coloring matter washed away, and all the gas- 

 eous and aqueous substance evaporated by the sun 1 Can it be 

 possible, I repeat, an expectation exists that their manure is all 

 there 1 And even during the season of winter, as they make 

 their morning visits to the barn, day by day seeing their heap 

 sending up through the apex of their thick covering of snow, a 

 pungent volume of steam, too forbidding for a very near ap- 

 proach — can it be possible an expectation exists that " when all 

 this ugly smell only goes off once" then the manure will be in its 

 best state for use. No wonder such farmers are led to exclaim 

 when harvesting their crops, as I have frequently heard the com- 

 plaint, " We don't get no more such seasons like we used to have." 



