506 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Nov. 



ogy, these valleys and hollows, now filled with de- 

 cayed vegetable matter, were submerged by the 

 waters of the ocean. It is thought by eminent 

 geologists, that, at a very remote period in the 

 earth's history, the level of the sea on the coasts 

 of America was more than fifteen hundred feet 

 higher than it is at the present time ! 



This continent must then have consisted of on- 

 ly a few large islands. At another, the drift pe- 

 riod, the ocean v.\is several hundred feet lower 

 than its present level. At still another, the ple- 

 istocene period, the sea remained for a long time 

 four hundred feet above its present bounds, and 

 has gradually been receding from the land, or the 

 land emerging from the ocean, until the present 

 time. During the period last mentioned. New 

 England and New Brunswick constituted a large 

 island. This was separated from the main land of 

 New York by a strait, which extended from the 

 valley of the St. Lawrence, through the valley of 

 Lake Champlain, of the Champlain Canal, and of 

 the Hudson River. The summit level of the ca- 

 nal indicates the most shallow part of this strait, 

 which had a depth of about 125 feet. The west- 

 ern part of Vermont was thickly studded with 

 small islands in a tranquil sound. The exterior 

 portions of the New England States, and exten- 

 sive districts in the middle States, constituted a 

 beautiful archijjelago of small and picturesque 

 islands." 



Perhaps it was during this period, that in old 

 Massachusetts, reptiles of the frog kind attained 

 the respectable size of an ox ; and biped toads 

 outgrew the elephant ! Many of the rounded hills, 

 gravelly ridges and bowl-shaped cavities of New 

 England are doubtless the effects of marine agency. 



As the land slowly emerged from the ocean, the 

 valleys and hollows which had no outlet, and were 

 not fed by springs, were left full of water, which 

 evaporated after a time, leaving more or less rich 

 alluvial matter, upon which a luxuriant vegetation 

 soon began to grow, and with its decay, the muck 

 and peat formation commenced. In those valleys 

 which had an outlet, the muck deposit doubtless 

 commenced in the same manner, but probably a 

 little sooner. Ponds, fed by springs, or brooks, 

 are, in many instances, being encroached upon 

 by the swamps and marshes around their margins ; 

 and, ages hence, if the process goes on, will be 

 entirely filled up. 



The muck and peat formation has evidently 

 been going on during many thousands of years, 

 the surface gradually rising and gaining upon the 

 upland, but where the end will be, is hidden in 

 the unknown future. Those swamps which are 

 thickly covered by a growth of moss, bushes and 

 trees, must of course gain much faster than smooth 

 meadows which annually yield a croj) of hay. 



I cannot close without referring to the beautiful 

 appearance whicli thtse swamps present to the 

 eye during the month of September. While I am 

 ■writing, the swamp I have described, is decked 

 with a robe of brighter hues, if possible, than 

 those of the rainbow. Some of the maples are 

 bright scarlet, others are crimson and purple, and 

 some are golden yellow. The larches are brown- 

 ish yellow. These bright colors, with all their 

 different shades and combinations, form a beauti- 

 ful contrast with the dark green spruce and the 

 lighter shades of the larches and pines. From 

 the hills surrounding this swamp, one can be- 



hold a scene surpassing in beauty the most 

 exquisite piece of Mosaic work. The green up- 

 land woods form a picturesque background to this 

 garden of nature. Passing through New England 

 at this season of the year, the traveller will behold 

 hundreds of these magnificent views. In October, 

 the foliage of the upland forests is also changed, 

 as if by magic, to the same gorgeous tints, and 

 then the whole landscape presents a scene of re- 

 splendent beautv. S. L. White. 

 Groton, Sept. 25, 1860. 



THE OLD YANKEE FARMER. 



fA homely old ballari, brought to mind by the coming arni- 

 versary of the County Fair.] 

 Here's health to the Farmer who lives on the land, 

 Made the best and the richest on earth by his hand : 

 You may search the wide earth, but there's naught to be seen 

 That can rival the true Yankee Farmer, I ween. 



What life is so happy ? He's up with the sun — 

 He hears the day's poetry sweetly begun 

 By the lark and the cuckoo, the swallow and merle, 

 And sees the green lawn all bespangled with pearl ! 



While sluggards in cities, 'mid tumult and strife, 

 Lose all the best part of this quick fading life, 

 He quaffs Hebe's cup at Aurora's first ray. 

 And lives twice as long as they do every day ! 



He rules every station, from castle to cot ; 

 He's neither by noble nor peasant forgot ; 

 The peer and the jjlowman together agree 

 That the farmer should never want company. 



Look round you — what treasures his riches unfold ! 

 His granaries filled with those sheaves of bright gold ! 

 His pt'ns and his pastures all breathing with life, 

 And his home far away from all passion and strife ! 



Then, a health to the Farmer who lives on the land 



Made the best and the richest on earth by his hand : 



You may roam the wide world, but there's naught to be seen 



That can rival the true Yankee Farmer, I ween ! 



For the New Ensland Farmer. 



CULTURE OF CABBAGES. 



Although bred a farmer, and taking a deep in- 

 terest in everything Avhich relates to farming, 

 practical, or theoretical, I have yet to acknowledge 

 that I am one of the unfortunates who do not pos- 

 sess a farm. A single half acre of land is all I 

 have on which to expend my little wealth of sin- 

 ews an.d manure. And even on this small pittance 

 of space, I have not always been successful with 

 my crops. For instance, I consider a garden with- 

 out cabbages as a thing far more out of love 

 with jn'opriety than "a church without a bishop," 

 or a Nessus without a shirt. And yet my land 

 having been many years under cultivation, like 

 other "old land" (as it is technically termed) has 

 obstinately refused, until the present season, 

 to grow cabbages. In 1859 I sat out three uozen 

 plants, and not one of them "came to a head." 

 All were afflicted with "club feet," wilted away 

 and died. Having seen a notice in the Farmer, 

 a year or two since, that unleached wood ashes, 

 placed in the hill, and directly in contact with the 

 plant at the time of setting it out, had proved a 

 remedy against the disease here indicated, I was 

 induced last spring to try the experiment. I 

 placed about half a pint of good wood .ashes in 

 each hill, mingling a portion with the soil, but 



