56 
[February, 
form ; bone enough to carry well a carcass 
weighing 200 to 250, and occasionally 300 
pounds, or even more ; early maturity (the 
lambs also attaining very soon a large size 
and fitness for market, due primarily to their 
hardiness, and secondarily, to the great 
abundance of milk yielded by the ewes); 
notable prolificacy of the ewes, and then - ex¬ 
cellent fieeoes. In the matter of fleece there 
has been constant improvement, not only 
does it more completely cover the body, ex¬ 
tending below the knees and the hocks, some¬ 
times even to the feet, and almost all over 
the belly, but well over the poll. This feature 
is foolishly valued by breeders, and unshorn 
locks are left often hanging like a deformity 
over the eyes of favorite sheep. We must 
note also as characteristic of the breed, that 
the mutton is less tallowy, the fat more in¬ 
terlarded, and the flesh more marbled than 
that of less improved long-wool sheep. 
The weight of the fleece is great, consider¬ 
ing that it is so free from grease, that of 
rams weighing usually from 15 to 20 pounds, 
those of ewes 10 to 16, and the quality of the 
wool should be fine, lustrous, and well curled 
throughout its whole length. The length of 
the staple is sometimes as great as 15 inches, 
the growth of a single year. 
These qualities are impressed with great 
certainty upon the offspring of Cotswold 
rams with common ewes, especially with 
those of a Merino cross, entirely changing 
the character of the wool and mutton. The 
resulting cross-bred or grade ewes are not 
only valuable as breeders of early lambs, 
when bred to Cotswold rams, but from their 
hardiness, quiet nature, and large size, are 
often used to great advantage by those who 
raise Southdown lambs. These, though by 
sires of a smaller breed, gain size and quick 
growth from their Cotswold dams—almost 
all good milkers—while the Southdown sire 
puts his grayish-brown face and legs upon 
them, from which they gain higher favor 
in the market. The great interest which the 
public has in thorough-bred races of animals, 
their propagation and improvement, is that 
the males may be used to elevate the com¬ 
mon herd, and in this regard any pure 
breed should be held in very high esteem. 
We present in this connection a portrait of 
an imported ewe, the property of Mr. F. S. 
Peer, of East Palmyra, N. Y., one of a prize¬ 
winning pen at the Royal Show in 1878, and 
this year winning first, as one of a pen of 
five, at the Show of the Western New York 
Ag’l Society, where the medal for the best 
flock was also awarded to Mr. Peer. The 
portrait conveys a correct idea of the breed. 
Ilxport or B'ca roii'iim. -— The 
Treasury Department, instead of waiting for 
the appearance of the Annual Report, has 
for sometime issued monthly bulletins, giv¬ 
ing the transactions in the leading articles of 
export. That of “Petroleum and its Prod¬ 
ucts ” for Oct. last is interesting. To those 
who can recollect the early days of Petroleum, 
the figures here given are astounding. Those 
who know anything of the drug business of 
40 years ago, can recollect that there was an 
occasional call for “Seneca Oil,” to be used 
in liniments, etc. The apothecary who had a 
gallon of this oil, had a stock for several 
years. It was said that this oil was found 
floating in small quantities upon certain 
creeks, and that Indians gathered it, hence 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
the name “ Seneca.” This sparingly used 
Seneca Oil was nothing more or less than 
what we now know as crude petroleum. The 
exports of petroleum and its products, during 
the month of October last, had the value of 
$6,065,019. What a wonderful product it is— 
scarcely known 40 years ago, it now brings 
into the country about fifty million dollars of 
clean cash yearly, and from countries which 
can not produce it, but must have it from 
our American wells. Great is “ Seneca Oil.” 
A Whip Holder. 
“M. M.,” Orange Co., N. Y., sends a sketch 
of a whip holder, from which the engraving 
herewith given is made. The whip holder 
consists of a series 
of loops of flat steel, 
like that used in 
hoop skirts, fasten¬ 
ed into aboard. The 
loops come close to¬ 
gether and hold the 
lash of the whip as 
it is thrown or 
“whipped” between 
them. The whip holder should be fastened 
to the side of the room, and high enough 
so the end of the whip will clear the floor, 
when hung up by the end of the lash. 
How to make a Jumper. 
A light sleigh is called a Jumper. It may 
be made of hard-wood poles cut and bent in- 
Eig. 1. —A HANDY JUMPER. 
to shape, a few bolts, and a light body or box. 
The accompanying engravings, made from 
sketches of a recently constructed “Jumper” 
will serve as a guide to any one who wishes 
to provide himself with a light sleigh at a tri¬ 
fling cost. Two hickory poles, for the run¬ 
ners, are dressed down, the smaller ends bent 
to the proper curve and fastened until they 
will retain the bent 
shape. The posts 
are mortised into 
these runners and 
the bench pieces, 
which latter are 
fiimly fastened to¬ 
gether with bolts. 
The braces and their 
positions are shown 
in the engravings. 
A floor is laid upon 
the bench pieces, 
and extends beyond 
the sides of the box or body. The box may 
be plain or ornamented in various ways. 
The one shown has the sides and back flaring. 
The shafts are fastened to the curved ends of 
the runners with eye bolts. 
Tim Bunker on Learning from Mistakes. 
Mr. Editor :—The morning we had that 
first killing frost, early in October, just as I 
was going out to milking, I saw Seth Twiggs 
coming up the road at a faster gait than 
usual, and a stream of smoke behind him 
like a railroad engine that was just starting. 
I knew there was a trouble ahead by the ex¬ 
tra amount of smoke. 
“ I’m ruined,” said Seth, in a dolorous 
voice. “ Every cranberry I’ve got is frost 
bitten, the ice is on the ditches and the vines 
are as stiff as a poker. There was a good 
three hundred bushels of them just ready to 
pick, and they’ve all gone to the dogs. It’s 
tew bad. And it’s the off year tew, when 
apples is scace, and cranberries is high. Jest 
think of it, Square Bunker, six hundred dol¬ 
lars out o' my pocket, at one slap. It’s jest 
my luck. If I git a pail full of milk the ceow 
kicks it over. Never knew it to fail. I’m 
teetotaly undone forever, Square, and it’s no 
use to farm it in Hookertown.” 
“Not exactly undone, neighbor,” said I. 
“Tirzali Twiggs made a nice lot of butter 
this summer and took a premium at the 
county fair, for butter this fall, where all the 
best butter makers were in competition. 
And if I remember rightly, you sold two 
hundred bushels of cranberries last year, and 
have about four hundred dollars salted down 
from that single crop. The saving’s bank is 
not likely to fail, and we don’t have earth¬ 
quakes in Hookertown to swallow up Korah 
and his host and other sinners who fail to 
learn from their misfortunes, as fast as they 
ought to. It would have been a very easy 
thing to pick you cranberries last week, or 
still earlier, when it was good summer 
weather. You had no reason to suppose that 
the frost was going to stay in the heavens al¬ 
ways, to suit your convenience. The fact is, 
neighbor Twiggs, we may meditate and smoke 
one day too long, when the harvest is ready.” 
“ I know it,” said Seth, groaning. “I know 
it neow, if I never did afore. Tirzah told me, 
ten days ago, that I ought to pick ’em right 
off, but who’d ’a thot o’ a killin’ frost within 
twenty-four hours of summer heat! ” 
Seth subsided, and went his way, not much 
comforted by the consolations of my plainness 
of speech. Providence deals kindly with us all, 
but does not humor our laziness or ignorance. 
I suppose it is the best way, perhaps the only 
way, in which the most needed and whole¬ 
some truths can be taught on the farm, as 
well as in the school of morals. There are a 
multitude of dull scholars in husbandry, 
who are “ever learning but never able to 
come to tfle knowledge of the truth,” and 
they need misfortunes to bring them up to 
time, and get them out of their slip-shod 
habits. Seth knew well enough that the 
cranberry crop in Hookertown matures in 
September, and that the risk is very great of 
delaying picking beyond the twentieth. It 
is more trouble, of course, to color the fruit 
in the house, but you make sure of saving 
the crop. Most cranberry growers have 
learned this, and set their pickers to work 
not many days after the crop begins to red¬ 
den. They have learned something by their 
former mistakes. Nature seems harsh, and 
fines a man several hundred dollars for a 
blunder. ' He cannot very well help learning 
under this regimen. 
We have been a good many years learning 
what crows were made for, and the lesson is 
