THE SOUTHERN CULTIVATOR. 
61 
read ia natural philosophy, it did not occur to 
him that the com and quack grass both would 
grow most luxuriantly on the richest spot ol 
ground. 
But, as I said before. Uncle Tim never grew 
very rich; for, although he saved everything, 
the fact was he had not muck to save. His cat- 
tle and his fields being lightly fed, fed him light- 
ly in return. It seemed to him that all he gave 
his cattle, beyond what was barely suffieient to 
keep skin and bone together, was about the 
same as thrown away, and every hundred ol 
hay he could save to sell in spring, was so 
much clear gain. And, as for laying out any 
expense to increase his quantity of manure, it 
was a thing he never dreamed of. But, as I 
said before, starving his cattle and his crops 
proved to be a bad business, lor there seemed to 
be a fair prospect that it would end in starving 
himself. He could perceive that the products 
of his farm gradually diminished from year to 
year, still he never seemed to suspect that the 
cause was to be attributed to his bad man- 
agement. 
There were, however, good things about Un- 
cle Tim, And, although errors and prejudices 
of this kind seem to be, in a great measure, in- 
excusable, his were entitled to as large a share 
of charity as those of most other men. There 
was one thing about which he evinced quite a 
commendable degree of liberality. He had a 
son growing up to manhood, and his better feel- 
ings induced him to go so tar as to say, he 
thought young people now-a-days ought to have 
a better education than they had forty or fifty 
years ago, when he was a young man. In fact, 
he aflbrded his son a very tolerable opportunity 
for acquiring a good common education. And 
finally, young Timothy was becoming quite a 
reading, and consequently, intelligent young 
man. This, however, led to consequences en- 
tirely unforeseen by the father, and which, for 
a while, gave him a good deal of uneasiness. 
In his intercourse with the more intelligent of 
their neighbors, the young man had occasional- 
ly met with agricultural papers, and perused 
them as far as opportunity permitted, with a 
good deal of interest. He perceived that many 
of his father’s notions about farmihg were erro- 
neous. The evidences that great and important 
improvements were taking place, were, to his 
mind, altogether irresistible. And, although 
he well knew that his father would oppose any 
innovations, he began occasionally to make 
known the result of his reading and reflections 
on the subject, by proposing some little chang- 
es in their mode of management, and finally in- 
timated that he should like very well to take 
the Cultivator. But it was a desperate case; 
for, whatever faith Uncle Tim might have had 
in more distant things, it was clear that in the 
matter of agricultural improvement, he had 
neither faith nor works. The old gentleman, 
while he lelt disposed to gratify his son in all 
prudent desires, could not but teel vexed to find 
him inclined to depart so far from what he con- 
sidered “the good old paths.” Things went 
on, however, much after this fashion, for con- 
siderable time. Timothy would occasionally 
quote Judge Buel, and speak of the increased 
profits of the improved methods of husbandry. 
But, to all these representations, the old gentle- 
man had always a ready answer. All this, he 
said, might do very well for rich men, who liv- 
ed near a market, where all the productions of 
the farm would sell for ready money, and plenty 
of manure could be had near by and for little or 
nolhing. But, for small farms, situated as they 
were away back in the country, to attempt to 
take these big men for a guide, would be ruin- 
ous extravagance. One of Timothy’s sugges- 
tions, however, rather staggered him. 
“ Well, father,” said he, one day as they 
went out toward the barn just after a shower, 
and the streams of water, as black as your hat, 
were running out of the yard — “ I think there is 
one thing we small farmers in the country might 
do as well as the large ones that live near the 
cities. If we can’t buy manure, we might take 
care of what we have. You see that if our 
barn-yard was turned bottom up, it would be 
just in the shape recommended by Judge Buel, 
and would hold all this liquid manure that we 
see running off it to the road.” 
Somewhere about these days, it came into the 
heart of Uncle Tim, to visit his old friends and 
relations down in the land of wooden nutmeg.s ; 
and, as his son had nevei seen much of the 
worl !, he thought it might be well enough for 
him to go along too : so, after mature delibera- 
tion, it was decided that it would be most eco- 
nomical, on the whole, to go with their own 
conveyance. Old gray, to be sure, had been 
worked hard and not very high fed, and was 
a little thinish, but Uncle Tim guessed he’d do 
to go well enough — he would have a good rest 
and good keeping down there, and plenty of 
time to recruit after he come back. Well, after 
preparing their box of provisions and their bag 
of oats, they set off. 
But Uncle Tim had never foundered a horse 
in all his life, by giving him too many oats, and 
he didn’t mean to begin then ; so the bag was 
not a very big one, and the journey was some- 
what longer than they calculated — old gray was 
a pretty slow horse the latter part of the journey, 
and if he could have told his mind, would prob- 
ably have said he was very glad when he reach- 
ed the end of it. He had then a week or two to 
rest, but it seemed as if hard times had got to 
Connecticut before they did, for the granaries 
were very poorly supplied with oats. The 
time, however, soon arrived when they were to 
set their faces homeward ; and the poor old 
horse, although somewhat rested, was not very 
much improved in his capacity to perform a 
journey. Even their small bag was but scanti- 
ly filled, and to buy oats on the road, seemed to 
Uncle Tim a very improvident way of travel- 
ling. So they jogged on with such speed as 
the circumstances permitted ; but before they 
were within fifty miles of home, old gray gave 
out, and they were obliged to haul up. The 
fact was, old gray was a good horse, but he was 
used up. Although he had been a good horse a 
great while, it was not old age that prostrated 
him. He had skin and bone and muscle, and 
wind, and four sound legs. The machine was 
in order, but the moving power had been with- 
held. The poor old horse was as useless as the 
steam engine without the steam. 
Well, Uncle Tim and his son were in a bad 
fix. Their passage home in the stage would 
cost considerable money, and then to leave old 
gray there to recruit, and the expense of sending 
for him, would increase the sum to a pretty im- 
portant amount — and they could hardly think of 
selling the old horse for the small sum of ten 
dollars, which was the most they could get of- 
fered for him. The result of their deliberations 
was, that old gray was left with a farmer near 
by at a moderate expense, and the father and 
son took passage home in the stage. It so hap- 
pened they were the only passengers, so they 
had plenty of time to think, and occasionally, as 
the spirit moved, to talk a little. 
“Well, father,” said the young man, after a 
pretty considerable long silence, “ I don’t know 
as you think as I do, but it appears to me that 
our farm and old gray are very nearly in the 
same situation.” 
“ I don’t know,” said his father, “ what there 
can be about a farm and a horse, that can make 
them resemble each other so very much.” 
Timothy then undertook to ex plain. — “ There 
is, said he, what was once a good farm, and the 
foundation on which to make a good farm now. 
So there is what was once a good horse, and a 
good frame to make a horse of now. But both 
have been so overworked and poorly ted, that 
they have become exhausted and are of but lit- 
tle value. The farm, you know, produces lit- 
tle, if anything, more than enough to pay for the 
labor we bestow upon it, and the value of old 
gray we have had a pretty good opportunity of 
testing. Now, it appears to me that 1 can con- 
vince you that under a different course of man- 
agement, both the farm and the horse would 
have much more than repaid the extra expense 
estowed upon them, and been worth at this day 
more than double what the}'' are. I am very 
certain I can as respects the horse, and it is 
equally clear to my mind with respect to the 
farm. Suppose, then, we had given the horse 
one peck of oats per day, for the last two months 
in addition to what he has had — would not that 
have enabled him to work considerably harder 
than he has done, and kept him in good condi- 
tion! The old gentleman could not but admit 
that he thought it would. Well now, said 
Timothy, do you not think that if old gray was 
in good working order, he would sell for forty 
dollars'? Yes, and more too, was his father’s 
prompt reply. Now, said the young man, let 
us calculate the cost of the oats: one peck a 
day for two months, would be nearly sixteen 
bushels — that, at twenty-five cents per bushel, 
would amount to four dollars: and, as things 
have turned out, I am sure you will be willing 
to admit that sixteen bushels of oats, disposed 
of in that way, wouldhave beena very judicious 
expenditure, as, according to our calculation, it 
would have produced a difference of thirty dol- 
lars in the value of the horse.” 
“ But, said his father, “old gray is actually 
worth more than ten dollars, as it will not cost 
thirty dollars to recruit him up.” 
“ Perhaps not,” said Timothy, “but whatev- 
er it does cost, added to the expense of our get- 
ting home, and the loss of the work of the old 
horse after that, would, at any rate, have been 
saved by the four dollars worth of oats. And 
now,” said he, “ with regard to the farm, you 
have always told me that it was originally rich 
and produced great crops, and if it were as good 
now as it was then, could we not make one 
hundred dollars more easily than we can fifty 
now '?” 
“ Yes,” said his father, “ 1 suppose we 
could.” 
“ Well, now,” resumed the young man, “ the 
only question is, whether or not it could have 
been kept up in its original state of fertility till 
this day, with the ordinary available means, by 
a different course ol management. I think that 
it could — and will try and explain, as well as I 
can, with my small knowledgeofimproved hus- 
bandry, what course of management would 
have been required to effect so desirable a re- 
sult. The first great object would have been to 
increase, by all prudent means, the quantity of 
manure, anl either to use it in a fresh state, or 
prevent waste by washing or evaporation; and 
one means of accomplishing this, would have 
been, to sell no hay, unless a corresponding 
amount of manure could have been purchased, 
but to keep more stock, or perhaps, to feed what 
was kept better, so as to consume all the fodder 
at home. The next change would have been to 
divide the farm into smaller lots, so as to pursue 
what is called a rotation of ciops; that is, that 
the whole may be in turn manured and appro- 
priated to the different kinds of crops: other 
changes would have been to cultivate the land 
better, to procure more and better implements, 
and to pay more attention to the breeding of an- 
imals of all kinds. 
“These are the important changes required by 
what is called “ improved husbandry.” 'There 
are, of course, many small matters belonging to 
each that I have not mentioned. 
“And now, although the farm is, as we say, 
run out, a resort to tne same measures will raise 
it to the desired state of fertility; but the im- 
provement must, of course, be very gradual un- 
less considerable expense is laid out at the com- 
mencement, for manure, fencing, &c. I am 
aware that this may not appear so plain a case 
as that of the horse, but I am not able to see how 
any one can, upon reflection, avoid coming to 
the concluSton that the two cases are precisely 
similar. The fact is, they have both been star- 
ved, and for all useful purposes, in their present 
state, are of very little value. By good feed and 
proper management, both may berestored.” 
Uncle Tim kept cool all this time, but it was 
