408 
4MEEICAX AGEICULTUEIST. 
[October, 
Mr. Johnston and others who fattened sheep in win¬ 
ter, made their money by buying- the sheep cheap 
in the fall, and selling them at considerable ad- 
.Tanee per pound in the si)ring. I imagine there 
are few years when this could not have been done. 
Charley’,” said I, -‘take down any two consecu¬ 
tive volumes of the American Ayricutticrisi, and let 
us see wliat has been. For, as a rule, what has 
been, will be. Never mind what year, pick it out 
at random.’'—“Well,” said he, “ here is Volume 
XVm, 1859.”—Very well,” said 1, “now look at 
the New York Market Report in the October num¬ 
ber, and give us the price of siieep.” Charley read 
as follows : “ The markets have been glutted, 
and farmers wishing to buy stock for winter feed¬ 
ing have been more fortunate than those having to 
sell. In such an overstocked market it is impossi¬ 
ble to sell by weight. Priees ranged from one dol- 
of cotton-seed or linseed meal per head per daj’. 
You would have a large pile of rich manure in the 
yards in the sirring, and you could then beat me 
raising cabbages,cauliflowers, celery, turnips, beets, 
onions, carrots, salsify, cucumbers, melons, and 
squashes.”—“ I can beat you anyway,” said the 
Deacon, “though I do need more manure.” 
The Deacon rents some of his low, mucky land to 
some Germans, who raise cabbages, Swede turnips, 
etc., on shares. He made a good thing out of it 
last year. The cabbages and turnips are drawn to 
our local railroad station, and sold to a dealer. 
The Stage Coach in New York City. 
When the railroad car took the place of the slow 
stage-coach, it deprived travel of most of its pleas- 
skill in “handling the ribbons.” A parade of the 
Coaching Club is something well worth seeing, and 
the club makes occasional excursions to more or 
less distant points. On one occasion its members, 
or a part of them, drove to Philadelphia and buck, 
by the stage-route followed before the days of rail¬ 
roads. One member of the club is so enthusiastic 
a coachman, that he runs a daily coach between 
one of the hotels of this City and a point in the 
suburbs. He take.? passengers at a round price, 
and thus allows those who are not members of the 
club, to enjoy the pleasures of this mode of travel¬ 
ling. So popular is the Tally-ho Coach, that places 
are engaged many days ahead. The passenger by 
the coach leaves the City by that beautiful gate¬ 
way, Central Park, and sees the City melt gradually 
into the country. His road takes him past beauti¬ 
ful villas, as weU as primitive farm houses. His 
PELHAM BAY.-END OE THE STAGE ROUTE 
Engraved for the American Jgriciilturist. 
lar to two dollars per head for poor stock ; two 
dollars and a half to four dollars for good sheep. 
A few large fat ones bring live dollars to seven dol¬ 
lars each. These prices are about equivalent to 
three and a half to four and a half cents per pound 
live weight.”—“ Now,” said I, “ get Volume XIX, 
1800, and look at the INIarket Report in the Marcli 
number.”—Charley read as follows : “ Sheep and 
lambs are now in short supply, and are worth five 
and a half to six cents per pound, live weight, for 
fair to good sheep, and six and a half to seven and 
a half cents for very fat premium mutton.” 
“ It is clear,” said the Doctor, “ that the farmer 
who bought sheep in September or October that 
year, and sold them the next spring, made money.” 
—“ Yes,” said I, “ if he bought the i-ight kind of 
sheep and took good care of them, and fed well, he ' 
made money and manure at the same time—which | 
is what wo want to do.”—“I suppose,” said the i 
Deacon, “you mean by the right kind of sheep, j 
some of the English breeds of mutton sheep.”— I 
“ No,” said I, “not necessarily. Let me tell you. 
Deacon, you cannot do a better thing than to 
fatten enough sheep this winter to cat up all your 
straw, bean-fodder, corn-stalks, .and clover hay 
that you do not need for your horses and cows, and 
give the sheep at the same time at least a pound 
, ures. One sees but little of the country as he is i 
j whirled rapidly through it amid noise and dust, 
I There is no way in which scenery can be so well 
enjoyed, as from an outside seat of a stage-coach. 
The moderate rate of speed allows all the beauties 
of the scene to be appreciated, and the changes of 
the road present an ever-varying; panorama. Then 
j the stage-coach allowctl of social enjoyment, and 
j chat and stories made the time pass pleasantly. 
What a contrast between the tavern, where the 
stage-passengers stopped for dinner, and the present 
railw.ay station with its “five minutes for refresh¬ 
ments !” There is so much that is pleasant and eu- I 
joyable in travel by stage, that wealthy gentle¬ 
men in New York City and vicinity not long ago 
formed a Coaching Club, each member of which 
has a “coach and four.” There are now many' 
members of the club. Each has a coach made in 
the best possible style. The body of each, and the 
running gear is painted in a dilTerent style from the 
others. The horses arc carefully selected, and 
have the most complete harness and ti'applngs. 
The coaches have seats for six upon the roof, 
besides a place forthe “ guard,” who with his horn 
announces the arrival of the coach. The driver 
is usually the owner of the coach, and there is no 
little friendly rivalry among the members over their 
senses are soon saluted by the refreshing sea air, 
and he arrives at his destination, prepared to do 
justice to the bountiful dinner that awaits him. 
His destination is Pelham Bay, one of the most 
ch.armiug spots upon Long Island Sound, an en¬ 
graving of which we have made from a drawing 
furnished us by the Park Commissioners. He here 
exchanges the varying scenes and sights of the 
road for one of tranquil beauty. The blue -waters 
of the Sound stretch out in front of him, and the 
many sailing craft go lazily by, their quiet being 
in strange contrast to the fussy little steamer that 
occasionally passes. After a few hours of rest at 
Pelh.am Bay, the homeward journey is commenced, 
and the passenger enjoys the same scenes in the 
light of the declining sun, and reaches the starting 
point just as gas-lights and electric lamps are re¬ 
placing the daylight, refreshed by the novel mode 
} of travel, and the change of air and scene. “But,” 
some may say, “it is very expensive.”—So it is, 
but unlike many of the .amusements of the weal¬ 
thy, every dollar expended by the Coaching Club 
helps some one. The co.ach maker, the p.ainter, 
the harness maker, and many other trades are 
benefited, and even the farmer, who breeds stage 
horses, has their v.alue increased by what some 
regard as the extravagance of the Coaching Club. 
