1862. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



367 



THE AGE OF OUK EARTH. 



We extract the following from Agassiz's article 

 on "Methods of Study iu Natural History," in the 

 May number of the Atlantic Montlihj : 



Among the astounding discoveries of modern 

 science, is that of the immense periods wliich have 

 passed iu the gradual formation of our earth. So 

 vast were the cycles of time preceding even the 

 appearance of man on the surface of our globe, 

 that our own period seems as yesterday when 

 compared with the epochs that have gone before 

 it. Had we only the evidence of the deposits of 

 rocks heaped above each other in regular strata, 

 by the slow accumulation of materials, they alone 

 would convince us of the long and slow maturing 

 of God's work on the earth, but when we add to 

 these the successive populations of whose life this 

 world has been the theatre, and whose remains 

 are hidden in the rocks into which the mud or 

 sand, or soil of whatever kind on which they lived, 

 has hardened in the course of time — or the enor- 

 mous chains of mountains whose upheaval divided 

 these periods of quiet accumulation by great con- 

 vulsions — or the changes of a dift'erent nature in 

 the configuration of our globe, as the sinking of 

 lands beneath the ocean, or the gradual rising of 

 continents and islands above it — or the wearing of 

 great river beds, or the filling of extensive water 

 basins, till marshes first, and then dry land suc- 

 ceeded to inland seas — of the slow growth of coral 

 reefs, those wonderful sea-walls raised by the lit- 

 tle ocean-architects whose own bodies furnish both 

 the building stones and the cement that binds 

 them together, and who have worked so busily 

 during the long centuries, that there are extensive 

 countries, mountain chains, islands, and long lines 

 of coast consisting solely of their remains — or the 

 countless forests that must have grown up, flour- 

 ished, died and decayed to fill the storehouses of 

 coal that feed the fires of the human race to-day — 

 if we consider all these records of the past, the in- 

 tellect fails to grasp a chronology for which our 

 experience furnishes no data, and the time that 

 lies behind us, seems as much an eternity to our 

 conception as the future that stretches indefinitely 

 before us. 



PliEASANT NEIGHBORS. 



One's pleasure, after all, is much afl"ected by the 

 quality of one's neighbor, even though one may 

 not be on speaking terms with them. A pleasant, 

 bright face at the window is surely better than a 

 discontented, cross one ; and a house that has the 

 air of being inhabited is preferable to closed shut- 

 ters and unsocial blinds, excluding every ray of 

 sunlight and sympathy. We like to see glancing, 

 cheerful lights through the windows of a cold 

 night, or watch them, as evening deepens, gradu- 

 ally creep from the parlor to the upper stories of 

 the houses near us. We like to watch the little 

 children go in and out the door, to play or go to 

 school. We like to see a white-robed baby danc- 

 ing up and down at the window, in its motlier's 

 arms, or the father reading his newspaper there at 

 evening, or any of those cheerful impromptu 

 home glimpses, which, though we are no Paul 

 Pry, we will assert make a pleasant neighborhood 

 to those who live for comfort instead of show. Sad, 

 indeed, some morning on waking, it is to see the 



blinds down and the shutters closed, and know 

 that death's angel, while it spared our threshold, 

 has crossed that of our cheerful neighbor — sad to 

 miss the white-robed baby from the Mindow, and 

 see the little coffin at nightfall borne into the 

 house — sad to see innocent little faces pressed at 

 eventide against the window-pane, watching for 

 the "dear papa" who has gone to his long home. 



For tlie Neio England Farmer. 

 SALT FOR BOSES. 



Being in the vicinity of the United Society of 

 Shakers, at New Lebanon, N. Y., a few days 

 since, I called, as is my custom, to see their 

 fine gardens, learn something new, and enjoy an 

 hour of agreeable chat with my friends there. 



In the garden, cultivated by George Curtis, I 

 discovered a large plot of roses just bursting into 

 beauty and fragrance. The leaves upon these 

 bushes were as fresh and as fair as though they 

 had been spread in Eden, before any insects had 

 been sent to blight the beautiful of our world. As 

 the rose bush pest was then in the midst of its har- 

 vest in other gardens, I inquired of my friend 

 Curtis how he escaped their visit. By giving the 

 ground salt, he replied, and that since he has done 

 it, he has not been visited by the pest. This salt 

 he sows among the bushes in early spring, and the 

 probability is that it destroys the egg of the insect 

 while in the ground. 



He obtains refuse salt for garden purposes, such 

 as for roses, asparagus, &c., and deals it out lib- 

 erally. Its application, however, should not come 

 so near to pears or apple trees as to affect them. 



Friend Curtis is very nice in all his garden oper- 

 ations, and among other things, he is experimen- 

 ting carefully and liberally with the grape, several 

 new varieties of which he has now in a state of 

 flattering progress. His favorite seedling has now 

 been in bearing some four years, and each yeai* 

 gives new testimony in favor of its excellent 

 qualities. Last year, although it suff"ered much 

 from a late frost, it was ripe September 20. The 

 vine is a very heavy bearer. He is slow in com- 

 mending it to the public, choosing thoroughly to 

 test it on his own grounds before he submits it to 

 the animadversion of critics, or the scandal of 

 grape-mongers. He has other seedlings that prom- 

 ise well, whose further developments he is anxious- 

 ly watching. 



In this garden stands the original vine of the 

 "Northern Muscadine," that has survived so much 

 censure, and is now gradually gaining favor in 

 the good graces of amateurs ; — a beautiful vine, 

 whose bruising has only added to the fragrance of 

 its fruit and reputation. 



Throughout this society I find abundant eff'orts 

 making in grape culture, and a success attending 

 them, which shows tliat we of the North, by a 

 little labor, may sit under our own vines and eat 

 the fruit thereof. Patient labor and unshaken 

 perseverance with them, have, to a good extent, 

 overcome the severity of our climate, and they are 

 n the yearly receipt of liberal reward. 



STRAWBERRIES. 



Friend Curtis showed me a bed of strawberries 

 two years from the seed. A very curious appear- 

 ance this strawberry bed presented. Leaves and 



