216 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[Jui/r, 
THE LITTLE * SCARE-CROW.’ —From an English Painting. 
(Engraved for the American Agriculturist,) 
The Editor with his Young Readers. 
The 44 Scare-Crow.” 
There is an earnest, patient expression on the face 
of the little girl in the engraving. She is poor, and 
has been hired to keep the crows from the wheat 
field, by frightening them with the wooden “clap¬ 
per” she holds. This is done in England. In this 
country, you know, a 1 scare-crow ’ is often made by 
dressing the image of a man in cast-otf clothing, 
and setting it in some conspicuous part of a field. 
It usually looks so ridiculous, that it is a term of re¬ 
proach, when a person is called a ‘scare-crow.’ But 
the child in the picture, though engaged in this em¬ 
ployment, is such a ouc as everybody loves to look 
at. She is vigorous and ruddy from exposure, with I 
an intelligent face, and an air that seems to say “ I’ll 
do my duty.” If, like most of you, she had the op¬ 
portunity of attending school, instead of laboring 
to aid her parents, she would no doubt be equally 
diligent and faithful there. The old couplet writ¬ 
ten by the English poet, Pope, says : 
“ Honor and shame from no condilion rise , 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.” 
Remember that the way to rise to a higher sta¬ 
tion, is to he faithful in the lower place you may 
now fill. It is related of a former member of the 
Massachusetts Legislature, a wealthy and highly 
respectable man, that he was reproving one of his 
workmen for carelessness. The man answered 
sharply, “Youneed’nt be so mighty particular, I 
remember when you were only a little drummer 
boy.” “Didn’t I drum well, Billy?” replied the 
employer. If j'ou have corn to hoc, hoe it well; 
or if, like the little girl in the picture, you are set 
to drive away crows, do it well. 
An Incident of tlie War. 
Upon the ghastly picture presented by every war, 
there are always many bright spots that stand out 
all the more vivid, from the darkness of the back¬ 
ground. In the present strife, in which our coun¬ 
try is unhappily involved, there have already been 
many interesting incidents, and an occasional one 
may be recorded here. One occurred at the time 
the Rhode Island soldiers went into Maryland. 
I While moving westward from Annapolis, a com¬ 
pany of men were acting as an advance guard, and 
becoming hungry and weary, they entered a farm¬ 
house, and asked for food. The woman was great¬ 
ly frightened, and cried out: “O, take all I have; 
take every thing, but spare my sick husband.” “O, 
don’t be alarmed,” said one of the men, “we ain’t 
going to hurt a hair of your head, but please give us 
something to cat.” The woman could not be paci¬ 
fied, but hurried a meal upon the table. The men 
gathered about the table, and baring their heads, a 
tall gaunt soldier raised his hand, offered thanks to 
God for tho food, and invoke^His blessing upon 
the bounties spread before them. At this, the 
woman broke down with sobbing, and knelt down 
and thanked God that she was safe. Her fears were 
at once dispelled, and bidding them wail a few mo¬ 
ments, she made good hot coffee in abundance, and 
brought forth milk, cream, and other luxuries from 
a well stored cellar. While they were eating, she 
emptied their canteens of the muddy water they 
contained, and filled them with coffee. Her aston¬ 
ishment was still further increased when they in¬ 
sisted upon paying her; and on her refusal, each 
man left upon his plate half a dollar for his meal. 
The lieutenant, himself an irreligious man, tells the 
incident with great expression. Said he: “That 
asking the blessing, knocked out my underpinning; 
and when I saw this, and the evidently united feel¬ 
ings of the rest of the men in the ceremony, and 
their kindness to the woman, I felt that I was the 
officer of good, as well as brave, soldiers.” 
A Young Patriot. 
A gentleman living in Brooklyn, related an anec¬ 
dote in our hearing, which shows how the war spirit 
has taken hold of every body’s feelings. A boy, 
seven years old, was greatly interested in a letter 
from a brother, who is with one of the regiments, 
describing their manner of life in the camp. 
When bed time arrived, instead of going up 
stairs as usual, he said : “Father, may I camp out 
to-night.” “Camp out, my son, what do you 
mean?” asked the father. “Why camp out in the 
yard. I can take the wood-house for a tent, and 
Tom and Bounce (the cat and dog) can be sentries, 
and stand on guard!” His father laughed at the 
absurdity of the idea, but the boy insisted on it 
with great earnestness, and had a regular crying 
spell, because he was refused permission. He 
wanted to practice being a soldier, he said, so as to 
be ready to go when called on. 
A Farmer Boy's Letter—A Valuable Crop. 
A. J. Price, one of our young readers, writes: 
“Three years ago, my father gave me a quarter of 
an acre of ground to cultivate, and every Saturday 
afternoon to work it, and so raise my own spend¬ 
ing money. It was not a very good piece, being 
uneven and full of briers. I planted some pop-corn, 
which the squirrels ate mostly ; some beans, which 
were so few they did not amount to any thing; 
some melons which were small and did not last 
long; some peas which the mice ate up ; also some 
squashes and onions which never came up ; and last 
of all some potatoes, of which I raised 7 bushels, 
and sold 5 bushels for 5 shillings per bush el. nerc, 
then, was over §3 spending money. That was my 
first experiment on my own account. 
The next year I planted all potatoes, on nearly 
half an acre. It was a tough piece of meadow, 
plowed the Fall before. I had to work very hard 
to keep the grass down, it being rather wet. I 
raised about 40 bushels, 25 of which I sold for 3 
shillings per bushel. The rest were small potatoes, 
and I let father have them for $1, which I sent for 
the Agriculturist —money well invested I think. 
That was my second experiment. 
Last year I tried it again, with the same amount 
of land, but it was another tough piece, being a 
patch that had been chopped a long time, and had 
come up again to bushes. After much grubbing and 
hard work, I managed to raise 50 bushels in all—a 
great many rotted. I kept them until this Spring, 
and have sold 12 bushels for 2 shillings per bushel; 
35 bushels I have on hand yet, and am likely to have 
for a while, as there is no sale for them here. This 
is my third experiment. If I have to give away the 
rest of my potatoes, to get rid of them, it will not 
be a very profitable one.” 
True enough, young friend, the potatoes may not 
be worth much, but you have been cultivating that 
which will pay handsomely. Perseverance is one 
of the best crops a young man can raise, and yours 
must have grown somewhat in the last three years. 
Work away, try again, and again, and then don’t 
give it up, and ultimately you will find a field which 
will pay for all previous efforts. Those three years 
will very likely fix your character, and you may 
owe great success in after life, to the lesson learned 
in that, time; then how pleasant it will be to re¬ 
member those first “ small potatoes.” 
