86 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
To Raise Extra Early Potatoes- 
Cover the bottom of several shallow boxes with 
six inches of equal parts stable manure and .oam 
and put any early variety of potatoes over the sur¬ 
face two or three inches apart; then cover them 
with six inches of the compost. Nail slats or 
an open cover over the top, and bury in the side 
of a fermenting manure heap, the warmth of 
which will soon start the potatoes into growth. 
If the heat should be too great, remove a portion 
of the manure from the top, and admit air inside 
the box. When the weather will allow planning 
out, remove the boxes, which will contain a mass 
of roots and whitish colored stalks. Leave them 
in the open air for a few days to harden off, and 
having watered them copiously, take out the po¬ 
tatoes with as much earth as possible, undisturbed 
about the roots already formed, and transplant in 
rows. You will then have potatoes at least two 
or three weeks earlier than when planted at first 
in the open grounds. The middle or latter part of 
March will be a proper season for putting them 
in the compost heap, i-ri this latitude. 
Interesting Facts about the Winter Rest 
of Trees. 
During the mild weather of December and Jan¬ 
uary last, we heard the fear often expressed that 
the buds of fruit-trees would begin to start, and 
that they and other trees would be injured. Such 
fears will not hear the test of a little examination. 
All trees have a natural period of rest, and will not 
allow themselves to be awakened until they have 
enjoyed it. That period begins in Autumn, at the 
usual time of the fall of the leaf, and even before. 
It begins when the buds for next year’s growth 
have become fully formed, at the axils of the leaves, 
and the new wood has well ripened. Growth 
then ceases, and the leaves begin to fall. The 
soft, hazy weather of Indian Summer may then 
intervene, yet it will not disturb the slumbering 
tree. A few plants, such as daisies, violets, Noisette 
and Bourbon roses, the natives of warmer climates 
may open their eyelids and smile for a few days, 
but trees will not be aroused. They will sleep 
through a fortnight of warm weather in early Win¬ 
ter, for that is their appointed and necessary pe¬ 
riod of repose. Their slumber is sound and heavy, 
like that of a weary man in the early hours of 
night. 
Nurserymen have experimented with lilacs, 
spiraeas and similar plants which are most easily 
excited ; and they find that if taken up in the Fall 
and planted in a warm green-house, they will not 
start, for at least a month, although exposed con¬ 
stantly to light, heat and moisture. So with hot¬ 
house grapes ; they refuse to push until they have 
had their needful rest of from two to four months. 
Heat ofCO 0 wili not start them during their nat¬ 
ural time of rest ; but after that period, 40° will 
develop their buds. 
The oak and beech trees drop their leaves, in 
the Island of Madeira, even while the temperature 
is as high as that of our own Summer; and they 
take a nap of several months, undisturbed by the 
untimely heat around them. In that country, the 
beech casts its leaves in November, and buds out 
again in April, making a rest of about 150 days. 
The oak sleeps about 110 days; the buttonwood 
90 ; the tulip-tree 150 ; the grape vine a little less. 
So that these trees, the natives of cold climates, 
drop their leaves nearly as early in warmer lati¬ 
tudes, and rest nearly as long, as in their native 
habitats. Were we to moralize here, we might 
say that when “Young America” travels in for¬ 
eign parts, he might well learn a lesson from the 
trees, and maintain while abroad, the good habits 
learned at lunne. But we cite these facts rather 
to show that mild weather, at least in early Winter, 
can do little or no harm to vegetation. 
- mm i ■ ■na -Q ^rwv I - 
The Atmosphere and the Farmer- 
The chief business of the cultivator, of course, 
is with the soil beneath his feet; it is by drain¬ 
ing, manuring, and plowing that, that he must ex¬ 
pect to obtain prosperity. But is he not also de¬ 
pendant on the air above him! Indeed, a little 
reflection will show that no unimportant part of 
his farm lies in the atmosphere enveloping the 
soil in which he delves so industriously. He 
owns an invisible ocean—fifty miles deep above 
his head; yet not wholly invisible, either, for if 
he looks around and upward, he sees it tinged 
with a beautiful blue. He can feel it more plain¬ 
ly than he can see it, especially when its waves 
are put in motion in winds. Then, it fans his burn¬ 
ing cheek, sways his luxuriant grain, and if lashed 
into fury, it uproots his trees, overturns houses, 
and spreads desolation far and wide. 
The weight of this superincumbent ocean is 
fifteen pounds to every square inch, never more ; 
and were not this pressure the same on all sides, 
upwards as well as downwards, it would oppress, 
if not crush every living creature. Men drink 
large draughts from this ocean continually. The 
farmer, and other out-door laborers, public speak¬ 
ers and singers imbibe it more largely than men 
of sedentary pursuits. A person of medium size 
and sound health, drinks eighteen times a minute, 
and in twenty-four hours consumes fifty-one 
hogsheads of air. 
But, dropping all figure, the atmosphere as God 
has made it, is rightly compounded to promote 
the health of man, animals and plants. It is com¬ 
posed chiefly of two gases, oxygen one-fifth 
part, and nitrogen four-fifth3, with a trace of car¬ 
bonic acid. Oxygen, being the chief supporter 
of life, and the fraction of it in the air so small, it 
is exceedingly important to preserve it unvitiated. 
Any increase of carbonic acid in the air is injuri¬ 
ous to the health of all animals. It is increased 
by respiration, by the decay of animal and vegeta¬ 
ble matters, by stagnant water and by cumbustion. 
When pure air, and enough of it is inhaled, it puri¬ 
fies the blood and promotes the general health of 
the system : impure and insufficient air saps the 
very citadel of life. The air of damp cellars and 
of stagnant marshes io unwholesome; rooms 
lighted with gas, and heated by coal stoves with 
poor draft, are often filled with carbonic acid and 
other noxious gases. “ A single gas-burner,” 
says Coombe, consumes more oxygen, and pro¬ 
duces more carbonic acid gao than six or eight 
candles.” Close and over-heated rooms of all 
kinds are unhealthy; especially so, if they are 
occupied by a number of persons for any length of 
time. Foul and unveatilated stables are injurious 
to the health of animals. If farmers as a class 
are more healthy and vigorous than other men, 
it is chiefly because, in addition to continued 
exercise, they live so much in the open air, 
and inhale the prime source of health at every 
breath. 
But the atmosphere has much to do with the 
farmer’s welfare in another respect. Plants 
breathe, as well as men, and their life and health 
depend on their breathing. Every leaf on the 
trees of our orchards, on the bushes and vines in 
our gardens, on the grains, grasses and vegetables 
in our fields, has a multitude of pores or mouths 
through which the plant breathes. Destroy or 
shut up those pores, or remove or seriously vitiate 
the air, and the plant dies. The air does a work 
also in the soil, preparing it to nourish the roots 
of every plant. Draining, sub-soiling, plowing and 
hoeing do not of themselves make plants grow : 
they are but adjuncts or pioneers to the air. We 
break up the ground with machines, not merely 
to give the roots a chance to spread themselves, 
but in order to give the air free passage between 
the particles of the soil. 
The stratum of air just above the ground is 
constantly absorbing gases from decaying vegeta¬ 
tion, which the dews and rains carry down into 
the earth for the food of plants. The oxygen of 
the air “ causes the particles of soil to yield 
up their constituent elements for the support of 
vegetable life. Carbonic acid in the air furnishes 
plants with carbon, which is the chief element in 
their constitution.” A compost heap would be of 
little value, were it not for the heat and moisture 
communicated by the air. 
As the air is essential to the germination of 
plants, it is important tnat seeds should be planted 
just deep enough to secure needful moisture, 
without carrying them beyond the reach of the 
air. Hence, also, the importance of a thorough 
pulverization of the soil about the roots of all 
trees and plants. This is one reason, also, why 
a stiff clayey soil needs an admixture of sand to 
loosen its texture, and provide channels for the 
ingress of air. But without further enumeration 
of particulars, we conclude that the farmer and 
the atmosphere have much to do with each other, 
and that the first should hold the fact in dis¬ 
tinguished consideration. 
-■» ---aft*--- «■- 
Our Singing Birds. 
This is the month which brings back our annual 
songsters from the warm and shady groves of the 
tropics where the most of them spend their Win¬ 
ter “ season”—gay, frolicking things that they are, 
loving fun and hilarity, quite as well, and enjoying 
themselves much more sensibly than a great ma¬ 
jority of us who boast the higher intelligence of 
humanity. Let the wren and the blue-bird, the 
martin, and the swallow boxes all be in their places. 
If you have them not, stick up a lot of oyster kegs 
—every body has or can get them, now-a-days— 
in the trees for the wrens and blue-birds, put up 
sundry little shelves—a bit of rough board eight 
inches square will do—for the phebes in the wood- 
house or back porch ; and have a nice well paint¬ 
ed box for the martins. The swallows will take 
care of themselves under the barn, and stable 
eaves, through the air holes in the gables, under 
the edge of the roof inside on the rafters. The 
more of all these things you have about you, the 
better. They cheer up the husbandman, please 
the housewife, gladden the children, and make 
everything seem happy and joyful. 
The tree and the forest birds will be along, also. 
The meadow lark, the robin, thrush, and black¬ 
bird among the larger shade trees, and the orchard ; 
and, best loved of all, the sweet, little song spar¬ 
row in its quaker-brown coat, opening his music- 
filled throat in the honeysuckle, or lilac hush un¬ 
der the window, where it intends to nestle for the 
Summer. Let not a gun, or an idle boy with 
murderous intent be about your premises. These 
joyous little birds are among our best benefactors. 
We may sometimes be annoyed by what we 
thoughtlessly consider their depredations; but 
they are only “tolling” their share of the fruits, 
which their labors in destroying the innttmer; hie 
tribe of insects that would otherwise have preyed 
upon them, hereafter entitle them to. Spare then 
the birds, and invite them to stay with and return 
to you every Spring with their delightful compan- 
pionship 
