AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
ADAPTED TO THE 
ITarm, GrarcLen, and BConseliold. 
AGRICULTURE IS THE MOST HEALTHFUL, THE MOST USEFUL, AND THE MOST NOBLE EMPLOYMENT OF MAN —Washington. 
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EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. > 11 / □ L AX JJ Jj 1 ij 11 Hi l) lo 4 #i ( SINGLE NUMBERS 10 CENTS. 
VOL. XIX.—No. 3. 
NEW-YORK, MARCH, 1860. 
[NEW SERIES—No. 158. 
gKT’Oi'S'ice at 189 Watcr-st., (Near Fulton-st.) 
S^Contcnts, Terms, *c., oil pa yes 91-96. 
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year I860, 
u.y Orange Judd, in the Clerk’s Office of the District 
Court of the United States for the Southern District of 
New-York. St.—Every Journal is invited freely 
to copy any and all desirable articles with credit, and no 
reference will be made to our Copy-Right, where 
each article or illustration is duly accredited to the 
American Agriculturist. ORANGE JUDD, Proprietor. 
American ^tgricultnvist in (Ewman. 
The AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST is published in 
both the English and German Languages. Both 
Editions are of Uniform size, and contain, as 
nearly as possible, the same Articles and Illustra¬ 
tions. The German Edition is furnished at the 
same rates as the English, singly or in clubs- 
March. 
■“As yet the trembling year is unconfirmed, 
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, 
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets 
Deform the day delightless ; so that scarce 
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulfed, 
To shake thfc sounding marsh ; or from the shore 
The plovers when to scatter o’er the heath, 
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste.” 
Thompson. 
It puzzles many to know, what this sour, crusty 
month was made for. It is neither Summer nor 
Winter, but fitful, cross-grained and turbulent, 
like a spoiled child. Now we have a bright sunny 
day, when the breeze comes sighing in softest 
cadence from the sweet South, and it seems as if 
the golden gates of Spring were unlocked, and the 
.grand choral procession of birds and flowers was 
about to enter. To-morrow, the wind howls 
frightfully, black clouds drive through the heavens, 
the air is filled with mingled sleet and hail, and 
the chilling blast strikes into the bones. The 
ground is covered with snow and hail, the ponds 
are sheeted with ice, and from the eaves of barn 
and dwelling, hang stalactitic crystals in long glit¬ 
tering rows. But as the sun comes up, and we 
stand looking at them with shivering glances, 
the whole platoon comes down with a crash, fol¬ 
lowed by an avalanche of snow from the laden 
roofs. There is a relenting of the reign of the 
frost king, the days grow longer, and the power 
of the sun increases, giving promise of the good 
time coming. 
The farmer could poorly afford to part with 
March, rough and uncomfortable as it is. The 
alternate freezings and thawings, if he have made 
preparations to receive their full benefits, will 
prove an important advantage to his fields. They 
work mechanical changes in the texture of the 
soil, and prepare the way for chemical changes, 
as they break down the indurated lumps, and 
bring the different ingredients into closer contact. 
More available plant food is probably manufactur¬ 
ed in this month, from this cause, than in all the 
Winter months Almost every twenty-four hours, 
the surface of the earth is frozen and thawed 
again, and every change adds a little to the store 
of plant food, on which the vegetation of the 
coming Summer may rely for its sustenance. 
The rough winds, too, are friendly agencies in 
drying up the superabundant moisture of the 
earth. This leaves small fissures in the soil, 
into which the seeds of grasses sink, where they 
soon vegetate. The worst features of the month, 
like afflictions, are friends in disguise. 
There are many persons very much like March, 
always blustering and grumbling. They com¬ 
plain of hard times, and nothing seems to go right 
with them. The tilling of the soil is the hardest 
kind of work, and rewarded with the fewest com¬ 
forts. - The farmer can not afford to have upon 
his own table those luxuries which he provides 
for others. If he fat a calf, or lamb, the butcher 
gets them both. If he raise chickens and eggs, 
the merchant wants them all to square up his ac¬ 
count. If he rear a flock of turkeys and geese, 
he can only afford one at the annual festival of 
Thanksgiving. If he have a patch of early gar¬ 
den vegetables, they are all wanted in the 
neighboring village, at such prices that he can 
not keep them. He has to live upon old stores, 
while mechanics and merchants are luxuriating 
upon new’ potatoes in June, at two dollars a 
bushel. They can dress in the finest of broad¬ 
cloth, while he can poorly afford a second-rate 
article, and has to keep the best hat and coat on 
hand, till they are thrice out of fashion. He has 
a hard time of it, and thinks the evils of life 
greatly overbalance its joys. Now, we are dis¬ 
posed to put on a few March airs, just for once, 
and read the grumblers a lecture. Mark, this is 
only to those deserving it, not a large class, and 
only those whom the garment fits, will put it on. 
We guess, if you find hard times, when every 
product you raise sells so high that you can not 
afford to keep it, there must be a screw loose 
somewhere in your economy. You are extrava¬ 
gant. We see you are indignant at the charge, 
and point to your frugal fare, and your threadbare 
coat, in conclusive attestation of the strict parsi¬ 
mony of your habits. But let us investigate this 
matter. There is your house, a fine two-story 
building, nicely painted inside and out, with 
rooms enough in it to accommodate a family 
three times as numerous as yours. There is the 
parlor, perhaps a large double room with folding 
doors, and not used on an average three times a 
year. Then look at the fixings and furniture in 
it, kept mainly for show, and yet never shown to 
any body that respects you a tittle more for its 
embellishments. There are carpets costing a 
hundred dollars, elegant mahogany chairs, 
bureaus, sofas, etc., to keep them company. 
They are all too good for use, too sacred for the 
children to play with. It is too cold for them in 
there during Winter, and in Summer they might 
soil the carpet, or break a mirror. 
Then, in the garret, or upper part of the house, 
you have, perhaps, a great deal of unfurnished 
room, dedicated to old newspapers, dried herbs, 
strings of pepper-pods, three-legged chairs, and 
superannuated cradles. This receptacle of 
trumpery was probably put on to keep up appear¬ 
ances, and to have a house as hig as your neigh¬ 
bor’s. Now, you have in these unused, and, for 
your purpose, useless things, perhaps a thousand 
or fifteen hundred dollars. It is so much dead 
capital locked up. You get no interest on it, 
and it yields you no profit, except a slight grati¬ 
fication to your pride, and that of your family. 
Nor is this all of the extravagance. Your wife 
has a great deal of anxiety and care to keep so 
much extra room in order, and to put all the spot¬ 
less furniture safely through the perils of the 
semi-annual cleaning. What sweepings and dust¬ 
ings, and fussings, and fixings, with articles kept 
mainly for show ! Now, these things may be all 
well enough for a man of fortune, who can com¬ 
mand as many housekeepers and servants as he 
wishes, to keep up a fashionable style of living. 
But they are extravagance in a plain farmer, who 
feels that he can hardly afford a hired man in his 
fields, or a dairy-maid in his house. This capital, 
put into a large house and its adornments, if it 
were invested in his business, labor, stock, muck, 
barn cellars, or better tools, would pay him a 
large interest. It would apply grease to the 
wheels, where they now are squeaking and wail¬ 
ing, like March winds. 
Then, to keep up appearances out doors as well 
as in, you must sell the old wagon, and get a new 
carriage at an expense of two hundred dollars, 
and then, to match the carriage, there must be 
a fine harness, and finer horses, the whole 
establishment costing five or six hundred dol¬ 
lars. There was a good deal of wear in the old 
wagon, and it would have lasted a dozen years 
longer with careful usage, and taken your family 
to church with as much edification, and prob^jfly 
more, than the present varnished vehicle. We 
have nothing to say against a fine equipage, but 
it should belong to a man who eats turkey more 
than once a year, and whose parlor is inhabited. 
Possibly this and other extravagances are the oc¬ 
casion of your hard times, and of the discontent 
that pervades your life. There is no rapid fortune 
to be made in farming, but with industry and 
economy it yields a sure and ample reward to all. 
Extravagance, or living beyond one’s means, is 
ruin in any business. 
It is bad policy to allow cattle to roam ovpi 
grass lands in Spring. They undoubtedly enjoy 
the freedom, and relish the first tender biis of the 
fresh grass, and it is a pleasant sight to see them 
in the fields again ; but they do more harm to the 
grass than they get of good. In meadows that 
have become somewhat run out, more seed of 
herds-grass and clover should be sown, the sur¬ 
face well harrowed both ways, and afterwards 
rolled. This treatment sometimes doubles the 
crop. Two tuns per acre cost little more thqqorp^ 
