814 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
pounds. The next year he soared it with bar¬ 
ley, which grew so heavy as to lodge, aud sub¬ 
sequently it has borne his heaviest grass. This 
statement is corroborated by others, who have 
assured me that the same results have followed 
where earth has been taken from wells at a 
depth of 15 to 20 feet. Surely farmers need not 
huddle into pestiferous swamps in a more south¬ 
erly clime, to find lasting soil, when such can 
be had at a moderate price, near a profitable 
market, and surrounded by springs and living 
streams of pure water, and in as healthful a cli¬ 
mate as the world affords. 
IRON MAKING IN SHARON AND SALISBURY, 
CONNECTICUT. 
We were interested a few days since, in ex¬ 
amining the process of iron making, now in 
successful operation in a small furnace a few 
rods from the Sharon depot on the Harlem rail¬ 
road. 
It is situated immediately adjacent to the ore 
bed, and some three or four men are at work 
with sharp-pointed pick-axes, digging up the 
ore, while one man, with a cart, places it near 
the mouth of the furnace ; three men mold and 
draw off the iron, and some two or three others 
tend the steam engine and supply fuel and ore 
to the mouth of the furnace. 
The furnace was erected some two or three 
years ago, and furnished with a good steam en¬ 
gine of moderate power. The capital of the 
company is only some fourteen thousand dollars. 
Charcoal has become so difficult to obtain, that 
a successful effort has at last been made to use 
anthracite coal with a moderate intermixture of 
charcoal. The furnace is now doing well—turn¬ 
ing out about eight tons of iron per day, which 
is a little over two thousand dollars worth per 
week, the whole cost of making is about one 
thousand dollars, which leaves one thousand 
dollars profit per week on the business. It is 
somewhat difficult to keep the furnace in “ full 
blast” for any great length of time with hard 
coal, and the necessity of “blowing out” and 
heating up again, increases the expense so as 
greatly to detract from the general profits of 
the business. The prospect however, is, that 
these works will soon return the proprietors the 
full amount of their capital. 
A range of country in that vicinity abounds 
in ore beds of remarkable purity for the exten¬ 
sive and well-known furnaces of Sharon and 
Salisbury. For more than half a century some 
of these furnaces have been in operation, fur¬ 
nishing employment to a number of men, and 
in many instances speedily enriching the pro¬ 
prietors. The bed to which we at first referred, 
lies in a rather low, wet portion of ground, with 
nothing on its surface to indicate its rich mine¬ 
ral treasures beneath. 
Peaches about the size of a grape-shot, and 
about as hard, are retailing in the streets, and 
will doubtless do good execution in thinning out 
the ranks of our redundant population. One 
of these balls in the stomach, may do the busi¬ 
ness as effectually as a bullet in the head. — Ex¬ 
change. 
—- « •»- 
“PuNcn” on Bonnets. —The last number of 
Punch, contains a pictorial guess at the distance 
at which ladies’ bonnets will be worn from their 
heads at the next remove. The tendency has 
been further and still further rearward, and the 
next change, Punch thinks, will carry them off 
the head entirely; so he represents the next 
fashion by two young ladies in full dress and 
bare-headed, sailing along the street, with a 
footman walking some ten feet behind, carrying 
the bonnets on a waiter. 
THE HOME MOTHER. 
Some one writing for the Masonic Mirror , 
has drawn a charming picture of a home-loving, 
child-loving mother: 
“ We must draw a line, aye, a broad line be¬ 
tween her and the frivolous butterfly of fashion 
who flirts from ball to opera and party, decked 
in rich robes, and followed by a train as hollow 
and heartless as herself—she who, forgetful of 
the home task assigned to her neglects those 
who have been given in her charge, and leaves 
them to the care of hirelings, while she pursues 
her giddy round of amusements. 
“Not so our home mother!—blessings be on 
her head. The heart warms to see her in her 
daily routine of pleasant duties. How patiently 
she sits day after day, shaping and sewing some 
article for use or adornment of her little flock 1 
And how proud and pleased is each little reci¬ 
pient of her kindness! How the little face 
dimples with pleasure, and the bright eyes still 
brighter, as mamma decks them with her own 
hands in the new dress she has made 1 How 
much warmer and more comfortable they feel, 
if mamma wraps them up before they go to 
school! No one but she can warm the mits 
and overshoes, or tie the comforters around the 
necks! 
“ There seems a peculiar charm about all she 
does—the precious mother. They could not 
rest, if she failed to visit their chamber, and 
with her own soft hands arrange them comfort¬ 
ably before she slept! Her heart thrills with 
gratitude to her Creator, as she looks on those 
sweet blooming faces; and when their prayers 
are done she imprints a good-night kiss on each 
rosy little mouth. It may be, a tear will start 
for one little nestling, laid in its chill narrow 
bed, for whom her maternal care is no longer 
needed. It sleeps though the sleet and snow 
descends, and the wild winter winds howl 
around its head. It needs no longer her tender 
care! A mightier arm enfolds it! It is at rest! 
She feels and knows that it is right, and bends 
meekly to the hand that sped the shaft, and 
turns to the survivors with a warmer love. 
How tenderly she guards them from any dan¬ 
ger, and with what a strong, untiring love she 
watches by their bedside when they are ill! 
Blessings on the gentle, loving, home-mother. 
Angels must look with love upon her acts. Her 
children will rise up and call her blessed, and 
the memory of her kindly deeds will enfold her 
as a garment.” 
THE LOSS OF A WIFE. 
In comparison with the loss of a wife, all 
other bereavements are trifling. The wife! she 
who fills so large a space in the domestic heaven; 
she who busied herself so unweariedly for the 
precious ones around her; bitter, bitter is the 
tear that falls upon her cold clay! You stand 
beside her coffin and think of the past. It 
seems an amber-colored pathway, where the 
sun shone upon beautiful flowers, or the stars 
hung glittering overhead. Fain would the soul 
linger there. No thorns are remembered save 
those your hands may unwillingly have planted. 
Her noble, tender heart lies open to your inmost 
sight. You think of her now as all gentleness, 
all beauty, all purity. But she is dead! The 
dear head that laid upon your bosom, rests in 
the still darkness, upon a pillow of clay. The 
hands that have ministered so untiringly, are 
folded, white and cold, beneath the gloomy 
portal. The heart whose every beat measured 
an eternity of love, lies under your feet. The 
flowers she bent over with smiles, bend now 
above her in tears, shaking the dew from petals 
that the verdure around her may be kept green 
and beautiful. 
There is no white arm over your shoulder; 
no speaking face to look up into the eye of 
love; no trembling lips to murmur “ Oh, it is so 
sad.” 
There is so strange a hush in every room, no 
light footstep passing around. No smile to greet 
you at nightfall. And the old clock ticks and 
strikes, and ticks—it was such music when she 
could hear it! Now it seems a knell on the 
hours through which you watched the shadows 
of death gathering upon her sweet face. 
And every day the clock repeats that old 
story. Many another tale it telleth too—of 
beautiful words and deeds that are registered 
above. You feel—Oh, how often—that the 
grave cannot keep her .—Our Drawer. 
-•»<- 
A MODEL BABY. 
There was only one baby among the mem¬ 
bers of the late excursion party up the Missis¬ 
sippi to the Falls of St. Anthony. The baby 
was only six months old—a son of Henry Far- 
nam, Esq., the engineer of the Chicago and 
Rock Island Railroad. When the baby was 
first brought on board the Golden Era , some of 
the company shrugged their shoulders, and 
others said “ humph.” One crusty old bachelor 
muttered, “ we may look out for squalls now ;” 
and a young man with moustaches, who passed 
for a wit, sighed for the days of good King 
Herod. The baby meanwhile looked about and 
crowed a little, and then quietly entertained 
himself with sucking his fist. 
Well, from the time we left Rock Island, on 
Monday evening, till we returned, on the fol¬ 
lowing Saturday, not a cry, nor the suspicion 
of a cry, was uttered by the baby. He was, in¬ 
deed, a charming little fellow—always bright 
and placid, and ready to meet half-way those 
who were disposed to be attentive. Of the sen¬ 
sation of fear, he seemed to be utterly ignorant. 
He would go to the arms of a rough old back¬ 
woodsman as readily as to the arms of the beau¬ 
tiful Miss W. or Miss J., and remain contented 
away from his mother or nurse till, fearful that 
he was giving trouble, they would come in 
search of him. But instead of giving trouble, 
he seemed to be doing more than any body else 
for the general entertainment. It was fre¬ 
quently proposed to pinch him, to see if he could 
cry, and in one instance the experiment was 
tried without success. The features of the gruff 
old bachelor, who had looked so austerely at 
first on this infant phenomenon, would now re¬ 
lax as he came in sight, and he at last ventured 
upon the experiment of taking him in his arms, 
and found, to his delight, that the baby main¬ 
tained his good character even in his inexperi¬ 
enced embrace. 
The general satisfaction of the baby’s unpar¬ 
alleled behavior at length manifested itself in 
a substantial form. It was resolved to get up a 
testimonial. A subscription was put in circu¬ 
lation for a gold cup, to be presented as a token 
of the admiration and esteem of the passengers, 
who, when they reflected how much a crying 
baby must have detracted from their enjoyment, 
liberally opened their purses and subscribed the 
handsome sum of $260. A formal presentation of 
this offering was then made. Mr. Rockwell, late 
member of Congress from Connecticut, was de¬ 
puted to address the baby. This he did in the 
presence of the assembled passengers, the baby 
meanwhile being held in his mother’s arms, and 
always jumping and chuckling at the right 
place in Mr. Rockwell’s speech. 
The speech, which was a capital one, and 
enunciated with due gravity and dignity, was 
followed by a reply from Professor Twining, of 
New-Haven, the baby’s medium on the occa¬ 
sion, and who spoke in the little fellow’s behalf 
