AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 2S7 
can do any better, which there is abundant op¬ 
portunity of doing, while the splendid boats are 
running, which now grace Lake Erie. Wc in¬ 
tend no disparagement to the roads, which are 
excellent, no grades or curves comparatively. 
The cars are comfortable, the conductors polite, 
and the running time good; but the scenery, 
soil, crops, and improvements, do great injustice 
to the country, which we have, in former years 
passed over in various directions, and always 
with pleasure. 
There are fine specimens of the ancient Am¬ 
erican forests, which those who are not familiar 
with, may pass under rapid review and with 
decided gratification. Especially will the ad¬ 
mirer of the “untutored grand,” be struck with 
the majestic specimens which thickly line the 
road through the Black Swamp, just east of To¬ 
ledo—that once dreaded wagon route to the 
traveler of the olden time, when fifteen miles 
per day was a great achievement. We once 
made less than one and a half miles per hour 
through it, though an only passenger in a stage 
coach, which turned over several times in going 
a few miles. All is now changed, and the 
grumbling tourist is whirled along at the rate 
of 30 to 40 full miles per hour. The monarchs 
of the forest throughout this deep soil, grow with 
unwonted dimensions. Almost every tree we 
“ saw, shoots up high into mid air, furnishing a 
clean, straight, stalwart stem, unincumbered 
with a limb for 70 to 90 feet high, as we should 
judge, and would each furnish “ a mast for some 
tall admiral,” if of the right species. We never 
saw such a forest, and don’t believe it is sur¬ 
passed on either continent for uniformity and 
weight of clear, majestic, useful timber. When 
cleared and appropriated to agricultural pur¬ 
poses, no fields will be more productive. 
The crops over this route were generally 
grass, and of excellent quality, which the people 
were gathering with the scythe, the mowing 
machines not having yet been introduced here 
to much extent. Besides this were oats, pota¬ 
toes, corn, wheat, and some rye and barley. 
Grass and oats are the leading crops near the 
Lake, though in the soils adapted to them, all 
the other products flourish and yield highly re¬ 
munerating crops. Corn is generally backward, 
though we saw some very fine fields. The 
wheat through our route was much injured by 
the weevil, after having suffered severely by 
winter killing. There will be a very indiffer¬ 
ent—yes, a very light crop, in Northern Ohio 
and the adjacent territories. 
As we get westward, however, after striking 
the prairies and rich burr-oak openings of 
Western Michigan and Indiana, all through and 
in the neighborhood of those wonderously beau¬ 
tiful vistas, formed by their varied associations, 
we find the wheat fields loaded with their rich 
harvest, and past all danger, except the possible 
one of gathering. A good deal of it is already 
secured, and most is fully fitted for the reaping 
machines, which seem here to be generally 
used. We are gratified to learn, that through¬ 
out Illinois and Wisconsin the wheat promises 
great abundance. 
Corn is also very promising throughout the 
West, and we saw many fields that stood four 
and five feet high, which the recent showers and 
the intolerably hot weather will carry up to 
full six feet before you receive this. 
Abundance and increasing wealth seem to be 
the order of the day in this western world The 
fertility of the soil, the facilities for its reclama¬ 
tion and culture, the use of improved labor-sav¬ 
ing machines for planting, cultivating, harvest¬ 
ing, and preparing for market, with the high 
prices, all agricultural products have generally 
commanded for the last few years, has given 
every intelligent, industrious farmer, not only 
full barns and granaries, but full pockets also. 
May similar success await all honest intelligent 
toil of the American farmer. 
The city of Chicago is a pretty fair index of 
the prosperity of its adjoining and tributary 
country. In 1832 it did not contain half a do¬ 
zen families. The census has been just com¬ 
pleted and gives it nearly 60,000! Over half 
of these are foreigners—a good example of 
most of our new and thriving western towns. 
RECIPES. 
One of the best housekeepers in Morristown, 
N. J., sends us the following : 
Mount Savage Bread. —Take one large ta¬ 
blespoon of yeast, put it to soak in a half pint 
of warm water at four o’clock P. M., the day 
before you bake. When soft, mix it with wheat 
flour to the consistence of a thick batter. Let 
it stand until light. Take half a dozen medium 
sized potatoes, boil and rub them through a 
colander. Take one quart of warm water and 
mix your sponge, adding the potatoes and 
some salt, making a thick batter. Let it stand 
over night. 
In the morning add one egg well beaten, one 
and a half large tablespoons of pulverized white 
sugar, and a piece of butter the size of a black 
walnut. Knead it well and let it rise. When 
light, mold it and let it rise again ; repeat the 
same two or three times, the oftener the better. 
Bake in sheet-iron pans, 10 by 14 inches, and 
3 inches deep, making six loaves in each pan. 
When you take it from the oven, rub the top of 
the loaves with butter in a cloth. 
Mount Savage Yeast. —Take a double hand¬ 
ful of hops, boil in two quarts of water. Strain 
it upon some wheat flour sufficient to make a 
thick batter so that it will rise. 
When light, knead in corn meal enough to 
make it stiff as dough; let it rise, then mould it 
twice. Then break it up fine and let it dry, 
rubbing it daily as it grows dry, till it is nearly 
as fine as corn meal. Keep it in a dry place, 
and where it will not freeze. Do not put in any 
salt. 
Written for the American Agriculturist. 
THE HOUSEHOLD WRECK, 
BY MINNIE MYRTLE. 
And so the pretty farm is sold, and the house 
which has been tenanted by those of the same 
family name for nearly a century, has passed 
into other hands. Strangers are seen going in 
and out, and the garden and terraced walks echo 
the footsteps of those to whom it is not dear as 
the birthplace of their fathers, and fathers’ 
fathers for many generations. The pretty farm 
is sold! It echos sadly on my ears, and falls 
heavily on my heart. And what has caused the 
ruin of a household ?—deprived the sons of an 
inheritance, and the daughters of a home ? Ah 
‘t is a sad story, and yet the story of many 
thousands in our land ! It has all been mort¬ 
gaged by inches, to buy rum ! 
He who owned it, inherited it unincumbered. 
There was a rich meadow of many broad acres, 
whose banks were washed by the river which 
wound lazily round, beneath the shadow of tall 
elms and spreading oaks; and the soil yielded 
abundantly with only the ordinary labor of the 
husbandman. Over on the hillside were the 
densely-wooded timber lots, from which the 
winter fires might have been supplied for cen¬ 
turies, and still left the forest in all its grandeur. 
At its feet stretched the sunny pasture, where 
the cowslips and clover grew in rich profusion, 
and the sheep and lazy herds grazed all the sum¬ 
mer months, and slaked their thirst in the peb¬ 
bly brook which meandered along its borders. 
The house was an antique , and stood upon 
the brow of a gently-sloping hill. It was built 
in the olden time, when convenience was little 
studied by designers and builders, but the site 
upon which its foundations rested overlooked all 
the surrounding country. From the windows 
the owner could look far away over the fields 
he cultivated, see the river winding among the 
rich intervals, and the brook gleaming through 
the tasseled shrubbery that hung over its sil¬ 
very surface—the road, with its many curves 
and windings, along which the harvest-men 
jogged merrily with their loaded carts of new 
mown hay or golden sheafs—the blue hills in 
the distance and the green hills near by, mak¬ 
ing a landscape such as a New-England valley 
alone can present, and a New-England farmer 
may behold with an honest pride. 
The garden lay smilingly out in the sunshine; 
and a professed horticulturist could not have 
planned it more tastefully, or manifested more 
pleasure in trellising the delicate tendrils of the 
grape vine that climbed over the latticed bower, 
or pruning the stems of the gay and parti-col¬ 
ored flowers that decked the borders of the beds, 
and made a pleasant contrast with the bright 
green of the tufted mounds. How many times 
have I passed it, long after the shades of even¬ 
ing had gathered around the valley, and seen 
the youthful owner smoothing the terrace, or 
adding some beauty to the hillside, though all 
the day he had toiled in the field, and would 
have only a little time to rest ere he must again 
go forth to labor. 
He married young, a farmer’s daughter of a 
neighboring town, and never had a young farm¬ 
er a better prospect in the beginning of life than 
he. He was industrious and frugal, but his 
wife did not prove either efficient or economical. 
“ Oh, how much depends on a wife,” is repeated 
till it is trite, but it is not half realized. She 
was not so refined in her taste, not so high 
minded or intelligent as her husband. All her 
influence went to drag him down. He would 
have preferred companionship with the culti¬ 
vated, and might have been led by a gentle 
voice and a loving heart to give up all that was 
degrading. One who understood her mission, 
and was willing to study in all things to be a 
help-meet to her husband—who was also capa¬ 
ble of improvement herself, might have won 
him to self-denial and a higher life. But she 
cared for no society but the low and gossipping. 
She surrounded him with those who were fond 
of wine and strong drink. She enjoyed the 
coarse jests and vulgar ribaldry of his boon 
companions, and never on any occasion spoke a 
