1861. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



375 



THE WOOD MOMTEK. 



The following letter was sent to Messrs. 

 NoURSE & Co., Boston, who have handed it to 

 us for publication. Our desire is to lay before 

 the reader such Information in relation to mow- 

 ing machines as we consider reliable, but after do- 

 ing this, advise all persons to witness the opera- 

 tion of different machines before purchasing. If 

 a mower can be found so good as to be satisfac- 

 tory, purchase it, and it will probably pay for it- 

 self before a better one is introdured. 



There is much extravagant expression in the 

 letters we receive in regard to most of the ma- 

 chines. There is no need of this. Each one has 

 its particular merits, and the poorest of them has 

 one or more excellent points which the best do 

 not possess. One thing is certain — a great ad- 

 vance has been made within two years, so that 

 any person desirous of calling a mowing machine 

 to his aid can find one that will cut his grass ea- 

 sily, rapidly and cheaply, and one that will last 

 for many years, with proper care. 



Kennebunk, June 24, 1861. 



NoURSE & Co. — Your copy of the Farmer was 

 received and contents noticed, and also your let- 

 ter of the 20th, requesting a report of the Wood 

 Mower from me, which you shall have from ex- 

 perience. Having been the first purchaser of a 

 mower in this vicinity, and that not meeting my 

 expectations, I made up my mind not to make 

 another purchase until I saw a mower that was 

 of such draft and simplicity of construction that 

 it could be managed by a boy and one horse, and 

 do the mowing to my satisfaction, and the time 

 has arrived ; the Wood Mower being the one, and 

 the only one as yet, that can do it easily with one 

 horse unless he be a heavy and powerful one. I 

 have had a trial of Ketchum, Allen, Manny, Buck- 

 eye and Wood Mowers, the Wood surpassing in 

 every point, being handled as easily as a hand- 

 cart, and so constructed that the knife bar will 

 follow the surface where the knife bar of neither 

 of the above can, and with two-thirds of the draft 

 on the horse. I have had the trial with the above 

 named, with the Buckeye in particular, that be- 

 ing the next best in my mind, but the Wood is 

 so far in advance that it can never com5 in after 

 trying the Wood. 



I went to a mowing match last season with the 

 Buckeye, with a little span of 850 horses on the 

 Wood, against a span of 1100 horses that were 

 trained to the Buckeye, mowing in all kinds of 

 grass, both lodged, standing, and full of vines, 

 and the Wood made the best work in rough 

 ground and in lodged grass. The Buckeye came 

 to vines in grass, and came to a stand, the driver 

 bidding defiance to the Wood to cut his piece of 

 vines. I took one of the little 8o0 horses, put 

 him to the one-horse Wood machine, and cut his 

 gra^s for him to the satisfaction of all present. 



I will also state that the Wood Mower is a 

 ■very strong machine. I have a mower that cut 

 last season some two hundred acres, having run 

 upwards of twenty days ; that was run into 

 stumps and rocks a number of times with such 

 force as to bring the horses to a stand without 



brealiing a thing ; the only breaks during the 

 season being three of the fingers, and the ma- 

 chine looks at present as though it had not worked 

 two days. The Wood Mower, for ease in man- 

 agement, strength, durability and lightness of 

 draft, is unsurpassed, as yet, by any invention in 

 the shape of a mower. Henry Jordan. 



THE CONNEMARA PEASANTRY. 



On this day the country was more animated 

 than usual. Flocks of country people proceeding 

 to Clifden fair came down the mountains. In all 

 the gaps the red petticoats shone and the gay 

 head cloths fluttered. I saw in this short day 

 more lovely faces, more powerful forms and 

 more picturesque groups than I believe I saw 

 during the whole of my Irish tour. So great is 

 the beauty and strength of the Connemara peas- 

 ants that even the unheard of misery they have 

 endured since time immemorial, and still suffer ia 

 their wretched cabins, has not been able to de- 

 stroy these qualities. In rain and storm, I grant, 

 the unpleasant side is turned outward, and you 

 only see their nakedness and want. But let the 

 morning sun shine over them, and let the pleas- 

 ant blue of their mountains surround them, then 

 their graceful voluptuous limbs are extended, the 

 black hair is loosed, and the brown eyes speak 

 the language which the heart understands in all 

 regions, and does not forget even in the utmost 

 woe and the utter disfavor of existence. How 

 many pictures of rich scenery and of peasants 

 presented themselves to me this morning. It was 

 a panorama in which you walk from glass to glass, 

 to something ever fresh and ever more beautiful. 

 The brown girls came down the hill-sides in 

 flocks, carrying their shoes and stockings in their 

 hands. Then they sat down by the waterfall by 

 the wayside. They placed their pretty feet in the 

 water and washed them, and left it to the sun to 

 dry and warm them. After which the innocent 

 children of the highlands put on their shoes and 

 stockings, smoothed their hair, looked at their 

 faces in the water mirror, and walked contented- 

 ly towards the delights of the fair. 



And far on our journey, wherever there was 

 water with a sunny patch of meadow near it, we 

 saw similar groups in their gay dresses, not un- 

 like the fairy beings with whom fancy populates 

 every mountain stream. All at once I came to a 

 scene which reminded me of dreamland. I had 

 passed round the last spur of the hill, and ex- 

 pected new mountains, new heaths, new wilder- 

 nesses. Instead of that, I stood suddenly, as if 

 by magic, in the most delightful garden, in the 

 pleasantest idyl, such as poets only dream, and 

 legends describe. Almost a thousand feet above 

 the sea, between lofty mountains, and after a tour 

 through brown, foggy mist-land, full of gloomy 

 mud-hovels, in which misery and hunger dwell, 

 the wayfarer little suspecting it, suddenly finds 

 himself surrounded by delicious small houses,, 

 like English cottages in flowery gardens. Balco- , 

 nies of green Connemara marble stand over the 

 doors, and everything smells of mignonette, i 

 Gentle green hills limit the view on the land 

 side ; and on the other, ocean stretches out for an 

 immeasurable distance, and between both, in the 

 happy centre, are the houses of this pretty vil- ' 



