152 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER 



OCT. :S0, J839. 



DIALOGUE BETWEEN FATHER AND SON. 



Supposed conversation betiveen a providtnl and im- 

 provident farmer, and their respective crops and 

 stocks SfC, 



Flank. — Father, which is tlie most profitable 

 breed of sheep for the farmer ? 1 should suppose 

 the largest, as a sheep is a sheep you know, and a 

 large one is of more value than a small one. 



Father. — A prudent man will advise with his 

 land on that subject. 



Frank. — Hut can his land advise withfa'm? 

 Father. — Yes, and the lessons which a farmer is 

 taup^hi by his land, are not soon forgotten, as, ac- 

 cording 1o the old adage, "bought wit is best." I 

 sometimes fancy that my crops converse with rne, 

 when I visit them of an evening, iind if I could do 

 justice to those fancied dialogues which I seem to 

 hear, and could commit them to paper, they would, 

 I think, make a pleasant addition to your book. 



'Frank. — O, do try — " nothing is impossible to a 

 willing mind," you know. 



-Fninfr.- Most opportunely quoted the text — now 

 for the SERMON. 



We will suppose then, that a slovenly procrasti- 

 nator is visiting his fields on just such a glorious 

 evening as the present, in just such a fruitful sea- 

 son as we are now blest with. He goes up to the 

 field. No. 1, which is wheat, and begins — 



Grab. — Good evening: fine weather this: but 

 I don't think you look quite so well as you did the 

 last time 1 visited you. 



Wtirat.—\ wonder how I should — do you not 

 see how I am choked with weeds? how'the thistles 

 are gnading me with their spikes, and the rag 

 ■weeds are taking the food out of my mouth, while 

 the bind weeds are dragging me down to the earth ; 

 and how that T am smothered with evils innumera- 

 ble .= 



Grabb. — But I allowed you a fallow and plenty 

 of manure; you ought at least to have been able 

 to cope with the weeds. 



Il'heal You forget that " the earth is own moth- 

 er to the weeds, while she is only mother-in-law to 

 the crops that are planted in her bosom ;" besides, 

 you talk of a fallow — why this great thistle on my 

 right, and which has one of its spikes fixed in my 

 side, has just informed me that he is one of the 

 progeny which was reared in this same fallow of 

 yours, — his parent being the identical thistle under 

 which the farmer sat on horseback and escaped a 

 drenching, while his neighbors were wet to the 

 skin ! You seem to have forgotten that "one year's 

 Eeeding is seven years' weeding." 



Grabb. — Ah well ! I'll get these weeds pulled. 

 Wheat. — As you said a month ago, and will say 

 again, and never do it. 



Frank. — Ex'cellent ! But you never fallow or 

 dung for wheat. 



Father — Nor have T ever such fine thistles. I 

 always dung for green crops, and insure two things 

 at the same time — more food for the cattle, and of 

 course, larger dunghills.' My object is, to retard 

 the growth of the wheat, that it might be strong in 

 the stalk, and I therefore do not encourage its 

 lavish growth by manure and fallow. Now for No. 2. 

 . 2. Corn. Grabb. — Why you look very sickly ; 

 I thought you would do better, judging from the 

 appearance you put on at first coming up — how's 

 this? 



Corn. — Ask yourself! You thought you were 

 cheating me, when you sowed without manure — a 

 favor you always promised me; I relied upon th»t 

 promise and came up, with the expectation that I 

 should find it when I needed it; but after sending 

 my rciots below in search for it, I find your promises 

 are false — you complain of my sickly look ! I can 

 only say, if you had no more to feed upon than I 

 have, you would not have shelled the three lower 

 buttons oil yoiu- waistcoat! Grabb tucked the 

 shucks into the holes, and walked on. 



Frank. — I now find that crops can advise and 

 admonish too ; but could not the farmer still do 

 something in the way of top dressing, to remedy a 

 part of the evil ? 



Father Yes ; but he had no manure. 



3. Barley. Grabb. — Ah ! you'll come to noth- 

 ing. 



Barliy. — 1 thank you, and return the compliment. 

 But what did you expect when you sowed me after 

 once ploughing, on a stiff and wet soil ? " Noth- 

 ing venture, nothing have." I only wish that you 

 had to work so hard as I have for a living. You 

 would then feel for me. 



4. Oats. Grabb. — Well, I think you might do a 

 little better than you do, if you would try; why, I 

 shall not get the value of the seed back — that's 

 too bad ! 



Oats. — Now that's thrice bad of you ! You 

 know that you have had s x grain crops in succe- 

 sion from the land on which I am sown, with not a 

 spadeful of manure of any kind for the last six years ! 

 Why, even the weeds have been starved out, and 

 you have put in practice the lazy farmer's recipe 

 for ridding his land of weeds — "make it so poor 

 that they v ill not grow." Now that's practical liir- 

 ming without theory. 



Grabb. — But what shall I do for want of the 

 straw which I depended upon as fodder for the cat- 

 tle during next winter? 



Oats. — Is that all your dependence for the next 

 winter? Why your cattle will be ready toeat^ou.' 

 and you will have to practise the other part of the 

 recipe, "to prevent cattle from dying of starvation 

 — kill them." But I give you warning ; neither 

 they nor you must expect any thing fr( m me; if I 

 can hold my own, 'twill be as much as I shall do. 



No. 5. Clover. Grabb. — Why you look healthy 

 and well, but how is it that you have made so little 

 progress in heiaht ? There's Farmer Sykes' clover 

 as high as my knees, and will be soon fit for the 

 scythe ; but I am unfortunate in every thing. 



Clover. — That's a true word, although it is not 

 spoken in jest. Why you seem to forget that as 

 soon as I had made a little progress in growth, you 

 turned in all your starving cattle, horses and sheep, 

 which not only eat up the branch, but also the root. 



Grabb. — Ah ! that 1 was compelled to do to keep 

 them from starving; but you had all the benefit of 

 their manure while they were feeding you. 



Clover. — You call that manure? why it was, the 

 gre itest part, nothing but worms and bots — and 

 the little good that remained was soon carried off 

 by the grasshoppers and bugs, which were about 

 as much in want of it as I ! My fear is, that the 

 hot weather which seems now to be setting in, will 

 scorch the land, so unprotected by foliage, and dry 

 up the scanty crop which is left, before it is high 

 enough tor the scythe — and then, what do you 

 think your horses will say to you? If you had 

 done as Farmer Sykes did, you would have deserv- 

 ed his success; you must remember that instead of 

 feeding off his young crop, he top-dressed it with 



a compost of lime, earth and dung, which had bee 

 carefully prepared in the winter, and well pulve 

 ized ; by which, not only his present crop is doub! 

 benefited, but it is also preparatory to an auturi 

 sowing of wheat on the lay. Now put this ai 

 that together, and calculate the result. First, tv 

 tons of hay per acre, the first cutting; one ton pi 

 acre the second, with a capital aftermath for h 

 dairy ; and if wheat is sown by the 29th of Septet 

 ber, a yield of forty bushels per acre might be q 

 pected at next year's harvest ; and this is nr.i ali- 

 for after the wheat is carried, the land will be tii 

 ned, and the clover stubble perfectly rotted, w. 

 form an excellent seed bed for buckwiieat, witii u 

 expectation of a heavy crop. Now I will leave yi 

 to calculate the value of my second crop, (rememb 

 you have already had the_^rs< cutting, and a save 

 cutting it was,) and of course you do not expe 

 much at the third ; while seventeen bushels 

 wheat per acre next haivest, will be quite as mm 

 as you have any right to expect; and common ju 

 tice will not allow you to sow buckwheat alter. 



Grabb. — Why, you are one of Job's comforte 



Clover. — But I cannot see that you have ai 

 claim to the character of Job — for " In all this J 

 sinned not," remember. 



No. a Potatoes. Grabb. — Well, I don't km 

 how it is, but while others are digging new pol 

 toes, it does not appear that I shall ever have ai 

 to dig ! I think I may as well leave you to yo 

 fate, for you'll certainly never be worth the lah 

 of sleaning. 



Potatoes Now you cannot be ignorant of t 



fact, that for two months after the crops of othe 

 were up, you were only talking of planting your' 

 and all the while the weeds were growing on, wi 

 you called your fallow, until some of them were 

 high as your head and full of seed ; we were th 

 tumbled in all together, and have ever since be 

 striving for the mastery ; but you have now seal 

 our fate, and must take the consequences. ' I'w 

 fortunate for you, was it not? that your father liv 

 before yon, for he would find it difficidt to live af 

 you .' 



No. 7. The Cows in pasture. Grabb. — We 

 you have more grass than you can eat — howevi 

 yott can't grumble — that's one comfort. 



Cows. — Grass, do you call it? 



Grabb Yes, I do — and what do you call it ? 



Cows. — Why, we were just saying it would pi 

 zle a Philadelphia lawyer to say what it is; b 

 judging by the smell as well as the taste, it niig 

 be called garlic, without offending against the si 

 tute of truth. 



Grahb. — Well, you are all alike ! Did'nt I 1 

 you feed off the crop of clover, almost before it w 

 out of the ground ? 



Cows. — That's fact ! Indeed we were at 1« 

 obliged to dig for it, and you will feel the effec 

 next winter, or we are no conjurers. 



Grabb. — Ah, I had need be a conjurer to km 

 how to satisfy you all: but what have you do. 

 with the sheep ? 



Cows. — What, these large bodied, long wool 

 animals, for which you gave i:i exchange yo 

 small breed, which, even they, could only just kei 

 body and soul together, by picking the short h« 

 bage of the pasture ? Oil! we have done nothii 

 with them, but they have at last been able to 

 something for themselves, for finding it impossible 

 subsist on such short commons, and that tliey we 

 growing less every day, they sought for a hole 

 the fence, and by waiting until they were reduci 



