AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
Designed to improve all Classes interested in Soil Culture 
AGRICULTURE IS THE MOST HEALTHFUL, THE MOST USEFUL, AND THE MOST NOBLE EMPLOYMENT OF MAN —WASHINGTON 
ORAIGE J UB> I>, A. M., 
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VOL. XVII.—No. 10.] 
Nl W-YORK OCTOB B. -r»H. [NEW SERIES—No. 141. 
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American Agriculturist tit ©mnctn. 
The AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST is published in 
both the English and German Languages. Both 
Editions ara of Uniform size, and contain as 
nearly as possible the same Articles and Illustra¬ 
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October. 
“ Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, 
Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; 
And where the gardener, Robin, day by day, 
Drew me to school along the public way. 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped 
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap ; 
’Tis now become a history little known, 
That once we called the pastoral house our own. 
Short lived possession ! but the record fair 
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 
Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced 
A thousand other themes less deeply traced.” 
Cowper. 
This sketch of his early home, and his childish 
days, which the poet gives us in his “ Lines to 
his Mother’s Picture” is far more true of Ameri¬ 
can than of English rural homes. What is there 
the exception, is here the general rule. Probably 
not one farm home in a hundred is occupied by 
the same family that dwelt there a hundred years 
ago. There the homestead descends from father 
to son for many generations. Here the owner 
of a rural home sells out to the first good pur¬ 
chaser that offers, even though he may have in¬ 
herited it from his father. His children have no 
strong local attachments, and turn to new regions 
and new occupations with few regrets. 
In our examination of the causes which under¬ 
lie the depopulation of the farm, we adverted to 
the glorification of muscle over mind and heart,to 
the neglect of all esthetic cultivation upon the 
farm, and in the home. To these, we must add 
the treatment of wives and mothers upon the 
farm. 
We do not hesitate to say, that under the old 
style farming, a style still dominant in most parts 
of our country, woman’s lot is a hard one, much 
harder than in other departments of human in¬ 
dustry. As a rule, there is no just appreciation 
of the dignity of the office of maternity, and of 
its holy cares. There is not that tender treat¬ 
ment, that kindly consideration, that belongs to 
the child-bearing and the child-training woman. 
The farmer, too often, falls below his own stand¬ 
ard of indulgence allowed to the females of his 
flocks and herds. These are replenished by ani¬ 
mals dismissed from labor for weeks or months, 
or even kept solely for no other than breeding 
and rearing purposes. They are fed, and handled 
with extra care. How often does all the care, 
feed, and milk of a thoroughbred Durham or 
Devon, with the extra milk of a second mother, 
go to the nourishment of a single calf. It is re¬ 
ward enough for the services of the mother, if he 
can get what he desires in her offspring. He 
knows that it is only by this careful attention that 
he can keep up the stock of his domeslic animals 
to their highest excellence. He makes any sacri¬ 
fice of immediate profit necessary to accomplish 
this purpose. 
But he does not show the same good sense and 
tenderness, in his domestic arrangements. The 
toils of a house-keeper, and often those of a ser¬ 
vant in addition, are borne by the expectant 
mother, up to the period of confinement, and are 
often resumed, long before the system has time 
to recover its full strength. There is no careful 
consideration of the tax laid upon her system 
before and after she becomes a mother, or of the 
still greater care that comes upon her, as the ed¬ 
ucator of immortal beings. There is too often a 
penurious planning to make the most of her ser¬ 
vices in the household, and her muscles are al¬ 
most literally coined into gold. 
She occupies a more laborious position than 
that of the wives of mechanics, and merchants, 
of the same social standing. The carpenter does 
not expect his wife to have any share in his busi¬ 
ness toils, or to contribute directly to the income 
that supports the family. It is enough that she 
is the mother of his children, and that she has 
the general oversight of the affairs of the house¬ 
hold. But the farmer’s wife is expected to con¬ 
tribute in many ways to the income of the estab¬ 
lishment. She must see to the cheese and the 
butter, the poultry and the garden, and not infre¬ 
quently, to the marketing. She is overborne with 
these multiplied labors, and life becomes a scene 
of incessant drudging. 
The daughters, coming up to womanhood un¬ 
der these influences, cannot fail to be repelled 
from farm life. They have been to school, it 
may be, and mingled somewhat in society. They 
have visited in the neighboring village, or city, 
and appreciate the blessings which their city 
cousins enjoy. They cannot fail to draw un¬ 
favorable contrasts, between their own homes 
and those of the mechanic and the merchant. 
When the young farmer comes wooing, they 
remember their toil worn mother, her hands 
hardened by menial labor, and her form prema¬ 
turely bent by life’s burdens, and do not favor 
his addresses. They know that the vow, that 
binds them to a farmer’s home, is a very seri¬ 
ous affair. Love dies under such contempla¬ 
tions, and it is only as a last resort, and wilh the 
perils of a single lot in life before them, that they 
will continue in the lot to which they have been 
born and bred. 
Another of the repulsive features of the farm¬ 
er’s life is its solitariness. Man is essentially a 
social being, and the frequent interchange of 
thought and feeling with his fellows is essential to 
the healthful development of his faculties, and to 
his happiness. Those settlements in New-Eng- 
land, and at the West, that were originally made 
in large bodies are to this day the most advanced 
in social culture, and in all the conveniences and 
embellishments of civilized life But these were 
the exceptions in the mode of settlement in this 
country. As a rule, the first emigrant went out 
alone, or, at most, with but a few companions, 
to separate at the journey’s end, and to build each 
one his lonely log cabin in the wilderness. He 
was often miles from mill, from church, or school. 
Years passed by,without his feeling the attractions 
of any social center, or knowing other compan¬ 
ionship than his own family, or the occasional 
stranger that lodged for a night in his cabin. 
Now a man living thus, whatever may have 
been his antecedents, becomes almost necessari¬ 
ly a coarse man, and his children grow up boor¬ 
ish and uncultivated. There is little opportunity 
for social enjoyment, and no chance for the culti¬ 
vation of those graces, which are the charm of 
our social life. The fact is notorious, that farm¬ 
ers are the most unsocial men, in the community. 
They become habituated to solitary labor, and 
thinking. They have little delight in the company 
of friends and neighbors, and the very idea of a 
dinner or tea party, got up for the purpose of so¬ 
cial enjoyment, is burdensome. They do not love 
to go even with their wives and daughters to such 
a gathering, and they think the most that can be 
expected of them is to furnish their teams for the 
occasion. This has its influence upon the young 
folks, whose social instincts have not yet been 
crucified. They rebel against the isolation of the 
farm, and push for the village and the city. 
Then if we look into the settled routine of farm 
life we shall find another cause of this depopula¬ 
tion of the rural districts. If we go into a neigh¬ 
borhood, where the influence of our agricultural 
societies and journals is not yet felt, we find sub¬ 
stantially the same implements, and the same 
methods of husbandry, that prevailed a century 
ago. The farmer’s ways are as fixed as the deep 
worn ruts in the road to mill. There is no corn 
or potatoes equal to the varieties cultivated by his 
father before him. The old Dutch plow, wilh its 
wooden mold-board, is better than any new fangled 
concern made of cast iron. The native breed of 
cattle, hogs and hens, is better than any thing 
imported. Mowers and reapers are humbugs, 
and the scythe and the sickle are the perfection 
of tools for gathering the harvest of hay and grain. 
He sows, plants and tills the same crops, and in 
the same manner, as his forefathers, and anpre- 
