1 Ui 



r H E N E W C, E i\ E S E !•: !• A U M E R, 



01.. 1 



Frnm the Formers' Cabinet. 

 Dialogue""Cnltivation. 



Frank. — Father, our conversniion on pruning hns 

 never been absent from my ihougbts: it bos indeed 

 proved, aa you said it would, a source of great delight 

 and instruction to me. I often visit the tree which 

 you pruned at the time, and am nsioniehed to find how 

 very correct you were in all your idca.s respecting the 

 manner in which that work ought to be dune; and 

 how true to nature is the similarity between the culti- 

 vation of trees and the management of children — 

 some of which might he pretty big ones too. 



Father. — The more you reflect upon and e.^amine 

 the subject, the more interest you will I'ccI, and the 

 clearer will be the truth of the observation. 



Frank. — I have no doubt of it, for J find myself 

 making new discoveries every time 1 visit that tree; it 

 might be snid to be a llring lesson. 



Father. — Gj^d — and do you ever remark the three 

 branches which we particularly noticed at the time of 

 pruning, and which we named William U., John 

 Timme, and Sister Susan ? 



Father. — Indeed I do, very particularly, and cannot 

 help thinking they were pretty good likenesses. The 

 fine large branch, so tall and so straight, which, when 

 you had treaded down, 1 thought you had spoiled the 

 tree for the whole year, has, fiom the part which re- 

 mained attache 1 to the tree, thrown up two beautiful 

 blanches, one on each side, like twiuR, e.\nctly of the 

 same height and size, of n deep-red color, which, I 

 have heard you say, is a sign of fruitfulnes-i; and tlroy 

 are clothed to the very foot of the stalk, with buds and 

 leaves at short diamnues — and that is, I believe, anoth- 

 er good sign; and innre than that they are shooting 

 up into n part of the tree which before was thin of 

 brnnches, tilling the vacancy, and rendering the tree 

 much more beautiful than it ever could have become, 

 had thot branch remained as it was. These new 

 branches are indeed, as you said they would prove to 

 be, " useful as well as ornamental, afl'jrding shelter to 

 their parent, instead of shooting above, ami out-top- 

 ping the tree; exposed to every blosL that blows " — 

 What a pity that William D's. mother had not receiv- 

 ed the benefit of such a lecture " on pruning" in her 

 youth 1 



Fulhcr. — But what did yoii remark of poor John 

 Timms 1 -do you think he is the better for the troin- 

 ing which he received 7 



Frank. — I wns just coming to him: he still shows 

 thnt be is too willing for bis strength, for he is loaded 

 with fruit from the bottoip to the top, and which it is 

 not possible can ever be brought to perfection; I sup- 

 pose you will have to pluck oH" more than one half. — 

 The appearance of health and strength is, however, 

 much increased, and although the branch will always 

 Vjmain like poor John, defjrmed, yet by careful and 

 kind treatment, it mght long continue one of the 

 mo3t useful, althought not one of the most ornamental 

 branches of the trej; a living proof of the value of ju- 

 dicious training. 



Frank. — Well, now fjr Sister Susan. 

 Frank. — Oh. sweet Sister Susan I indeed the like- 

 ness is complete ! there is the pretly red branch, and 

 th^beauiifu. shining IcavesjWith fine fruit peeping from 

 beneath them; all of the same slii, and growing exact- 

 ly where they ought to grow, with the red and white 

 tj sweetly mi.iod, althmgh Btill so small in size, with 

 leading shoot from the top of the brunch, covered 

 with leaves; without blight, or canker, or mildew ! — 

 Ob it is pleasant to' look upon ! this comes of good 

 training. 



Fatlier. — But is there any hope of Frank on the oth- 

 er side of the tree ! 



Frank. — There is — and the first lime I saw the bud 

 bursting from the body of the tree, I con.'eits that 1 

 was quite overcome by my feelings: Oh, shall I not 

 w'liich its progress and witness its growth and tenden- 

 cy wall nnxiely I 



Fd her. — Let but my prayers be granted, cn.l 1 

 shall have abundant cause for rejoicing, 



Frank. — But, Fiiiuer, is not the growth of the tree 

 depen lent, in a great measure, upon the kind of soil 

 in wh ch it is planted 1 



Fithr.r. — Tliere, my boy, yiiii have laid open a large 

 field for observation and reflection; and suppose now, 

 wo follow it out, ond sec if it be not true, that " th 

 growth of the tree i) inlUienced, in a remarkable ile' 



5th. The dry and impenetrable foil. 



(jth. The rich surface, and sterile subsoil, 



7th. The poor surface, and rich sub-soil. 



8th. The sour and stubborn soil. 



9th. The rich soil, with poisono-.is sub-soil. 



10th. The sickly, or too highly nionured soil. 



Frank. — Well, here ore varieties of soils ! shall we 

 be able to fit them all with likencseca, do you think ? 



Father. Many of them will be easily matched, I 

 think — and to begin with 



lat. The happy soil; which requires neither liming, 

 manuring, draining, or watering — whose e.xcellent 

 properties are so nicely blended, and whose produc- 

 tions are so beautiful, rich, and in such profusion — can 

 ony thing be luore like the Founder of the Ladies' 

 Depository in Philadelphia ? 



Frank. — Oh, excellent ! a real portrait. 



Father. — 2d. The heavy soil, which produces a 

 thick and burly bork, short, coarse, rough leaves, with 

 short, crooked branches; and fruit, although of a heal- 

 thy growth and color, with no deheacy ol flavor; bit- 

 ter to the taste, vViih large pints, to which the flesh of 

 the fruit adheres very closely. The tree comes late in- 

 to bloom, and the fruit ripens late; but it is generally 

 a good bearer of fruit, such as it is. iNow, who is 

 this? or shall I name him — what do you think of 

 Tom Dobbs, on the other side ot the hill 1 



Frank. — As like as life 1 even to the shortness and 

 roughness of his limbs: a hard working man, but 

 rough and brutal in hie manners; and allliough he pro- 

 vides for his family cs a duly, to the pleasures of the 

 task he must be a perfect stranger; his children aie 

 coarse in their manners, and sour in their dibpotitions; 

 and are never sent to school; hnril workers, however, 

 and ihey produce much truit, sack us it is. 



Father. — Very well — now shall we cultivate the soil 

 OS we go 1 This tree requirts but little pruning, you 

 will observe, as it produces but little wood; all that it 

 does produce, however, it ripens well. 



Frank. — Yes, let us cultivate as we go; now, how 

 would you set about it in this case ? 



Father. — It would be merely to trench about the tree, 

 dig in a good quantity of sandy loam, with lime as a 

 siceetener, and depend upon it, in a year otter, the re 

 suits would be manifest — a more open disposition, 

 warmer feelings, sweeter fruit, a more luxuriant fol- 

 iage, and a smoother bark. JNow for 



No. 3. The too light, or sandy soil. This is indi- 

 cated by a tree of n weak and sickly aspect ; long and 

 thin branches, very thin ami light-coloured leaves ; 

 comes early into bloom, and is very apt to blight in the 

 spring, if the season is cold ; it sometimes, howev(;r, 

 ei capes, and then it brings an early crop of sweet fruit 

 of little flavour. During the summer it throws out 

 much thin and long wood, which 'n oUre to die bacli 

 in the winter, rendering it necessary the next spring to 

 tread down almost every individual branch. It sheds 

 its leaves early in the autumn, and its weak limbs are 

 very liable to be broken and wounded by the storms ol 

 winter. Now, who is this ? 



Frank. — Oh ! I know that — it is Samuel Slimm, 

 the tailor in the village, and is it not like him 1 you 

 know how toll ond slim he is, and how sickly he looks, 

 and how thin and sandy-coloured his hair ; active and 

 industrious, but complains of the steepness of the hill 

 behind his house, and is not able to leave his home un- 

 til the season is warm, and the cold weather has pass- 

 ed ; civil and kind-hearted, but with little energy, 

 either of body or mind ; while on the approach of win- 

 ter he keeps to the house, and suri'cia from every change 

 of climate. Now, you must be gentle in llie cultiva- 

 t!on of so tender a subject. 



Father. — Yes, I would trench up the sand, and mix 

 with it a large dosi of strong loam and Unie compost ; 

 prune very close, leaving but about three buds on each 

 branch, oiul look well to the tconns, which such a 

 weak iin I sickly subject is pretty sure to be infected 

 with. 



No. 4. Is the wet, a most unhappy soil, truly ! It 

 is shown by strangely formed bronches, sometimes 

 smooth and straight, at others crooked, burly and 

 rickety ; w.tb leaves of diflerent sizes and shapes, 

 smooth or wrinkled, green or yellow, thick or thin, 

 just us the aeiison hoppened to be during their growth; 

 the tree generally glutted with too much moisture, and 

 l^n a happy stale only when others are parched with 



Frank. — Well, to be sure it is a wretched picture, 

 and yet, I think, yoor James Snooks, the shoemaker. 

 is the pitiable object. You hove often remarked, os hi 

 passed, that he is the strangest being you ever saw; 

 lively in a time of sadness, and gloomy and sad at me 

 ry-makings : olways preparing to do greet things, bl 

 failing, just at the time when great exertion is neci 

 sary : sick, but not sorry ; sorry, but not tick ; doii 

 more work in a week than any one, and less in a fo 

 night than all : joyous, grievous, bright, and glooir 

 all by fits and starts. Now, how could any thing 

 done to recover so pitiable a cOije i 



Futlicr. — It would indeed, require a regular com 



of medicinCj and strong mcasuree, but even hert 



should not despair of success, 

 the tree, clean the roots, dij 



gree, by the nature ol the soil in which it is planted." 

 Shall we divide the diirerent quolitio.) of the soil in 

 the following manner: 



Ist. The hoppy sjil — neithi'r too heavy or loo light, 

 loo wet or too ilry 



2d. The heavy soil. 



:U. The too light, or sandy soil. 



4di. The vvpi soil. 



drought : nothing more uncertain than its fruiting 

 uometimes producing largely at a time of general fail- 

 ure, and barren in the most fruitful season. The wood 

 wh ch it makes during the summer, dying back almost 

 the whole of ils length, but shooting again vigorously 

 from the first living buds in the spring : sometimes 

 heolthy to appearance, with lorge promises of produc- 

 tiveness, seldom ro.Tlized. Now, see if you can find 

 any one so unfuriiiiiat..|\ siiuaied in life. 



I would fairly remi 

 out ihe earth to a gn 

 depth, and il on a dedevity, 1 would drain the soil j 

 on level, till the hole with about eighteen inches 

 brick and mortar rubbish, and well ram it down ; 

 upon this I would spread a thick bed of good nioi 

 and lime, replace the tree, and support it by tieing i^ 

 stakes with hoy ropes, and my life on its recovery; lo 

 ing well to the worms, however, 



Frank. — Well, these would be decisive mcasuc 

 ot any rate. 



Father. — Yes, and would be decidedly efficacioua 



No, 5, The dry and impenetrable soil, shows a tn 

 poverty-smitten in all its parts; unable to do much, f 

 that little to any good purpose ; brisk and lively, ho| 

 ever, in early spring, and making exertions to pt) 

 into bloom and leaf, but cramped and spell-bouud i ' 

 woy : the under leaves (all prematurely, but the wdi 

 which it makes during the summer is retained throt^ 

 the winter, although but little of it ; stunted and ba' 

 Ijound, but healthy in a degree, and not liflljle to beJ 

 fected by the wi rms, for that reason. Now, thidf 

 so common a character, that we have known m^ 

 such, who are tiuly to be pitied. To recover sucj 

 tree, it is only lo " dig about it ond dung it, and Ic 

 sland another year," adding, however, a good porti 

 of lime with the earth, on filling in. 



No, 6, The rich surface and sterile sub-soil ; 

 qucntly to be met with, and often the cause of disord 

 disease, and death, to the tree that is planted in it; ' 

 richness of the surface-soil culling forth early 6pri| 

 foliage, and the most promising expeciations ; 

 sterility of the sub-soil causing a lamentoble fallj 

 away of the biightest hopes, and the most grievous • 

 oppointment. In early youth, it is lavish of folia| 

 and the sweetest blossoming; nil appears well, and 

 it should be, and no one would suspect the mortifi 

 lion which is sure to follow, wh.:n the roots have pe| 

 traied to the poverty-siricken soil below. Now, i 

 is a charocter which is, unhappily, very common, i 

 is aptly figured out in the cose of William D., in < 

 iormer conversation. Hundreds of sucb young 

 reared in the rich surface-soil of paternal afliiCti 

 their cultivation neglected through a mistaken ftj 

 ness, after giving promises of the most enviable ga 

 ncss, ore doomed lo poverty, disgrace, and contenfl 

 through the want of ihe proper-stirring of the sub-so 

 — the only security for paternal hope. Such cases r< 

 quire a strong hand; nothing less than a regular trend 

 ing will be of any avail : the rich surface should I 

 turned down, and the sterile sub-soil be brought up, 1 

 be enriched by future dressings, lime forming a larc 

 proportion in every stage of the business; for it ismuc 

 to DC feared that the worms will be found to have niQC 

 sad havoc near the root of the tree, as, disease arisin 

 from the poverty of the sub-soil, will, in all probaliilit) 

 have engendered life. Lime and deep trenching wil 

 however, heal the malady, if opplied in time. To th 

 disease is owing the change of colour of the leafbefoi 

 the autumn, and thefaUing of unripe fruit, with man 

 other symptoms ot premature decay. 



No. 7. The poor surface and rich sub-soil are als 

 very common, ond before the tree can reoch the goo 

 soil beneath, poverty has stricken it, and many thci 

 ore which perish lor wont of sustenance, not bavin 

 strength sufficient to reach the buried treasure ; the 

 languish for want of support, and without timely ai 

 lonce are doomed to starvation. We may find man 

 semblances to this cose, 1 fear, omongst the childrc 

 of ihe poor and friendless ; for, according to the poe 



" Full many n flower is Iiorn to blusli unseen, 

 And waste its sweetncsii on tlie desert air." 



Frank. — Yes, and I know one who is so unforlur 

 aiely circumstanced ; it is poor George Hastings, lb 

 apprentice to the blacksmith; how 1 pity him, wlien 

 see him drawing figure .i wiih chalk uiion a board, an 

 hear him sigh, because he cannot rend I while his bn 

 tnl master checks every attcnqu at impioveiiient, on 

 does oil in his power to keep him in ignorance, thath 

 may the better suit his selfish purpose, " wonderin 

 what such a one as he should want with learning," 





