AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
ADAPTED TO THE 
IT 1 arm, Grax-clen, and. Ilexnse lio 1 d. 
AGRICULTURE IS THE MOST HEALTHFUL, THE MOST USEFUL, AND THE MOST NOBLE EMPLOYMENT OF MAN — WASHINGTON. 
ORANGE JUDD, A. M., 
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 
ESTABLISHED IN 1842, 
$1.00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. 
SINGLE NUMBERS 10 CENTS. 
VOL. xix.— No. 10 . NEW-YORK, OCTOBER, 1860. [NEW series—N o. i65. 
jOJ^Of'Sice at 41 Farii-Bon', (Times Building.) 
^Contents, Terms, Arc.,on pages 316-20. 
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1860, 
by Obange Judd, in the Clerk’s Office of the District 
Court of the United States for the Southern District of 
New-York. [gP’IV. SI.— Every Journal is invited freely 
to copy any and all desirable articles, if each article or 
illustration copied, be duly accredited to the American 
Agriculturist. ORANGE JUDD, Proprietor. 
American Agriculturist in (German. 
The AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST is published in 
both the English and German Languages. Both 
Editions are of the same 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- 
October. 
“All through the night 
The subtle frost hath plied its mystic art, 
And in the day the golden sun hath wrought 
True wonders ; and the wings of morn and even 
Have touched with magic breath the changing leaves. 
And now, as wanders the dilating eye 
Athwart the varied landscape circling far, 
What gorgeousness, what blazonry, whnt pomp 
Of colors, burst upon the ravished sight l - ’ 
Gallagher. 
What a change has come over the face of Na¬ 
ture ! The waving forests, so lately robed in 
deepest green, have assumed the gorgeous color¬ 
ing of October. The foliage does not fade but 
brightens into death. The last days of the leaves 
are their best in beauty, violet, pink, scarlet, 
crimson, as if their life blood were oozing from 
every pore. Nothing but observation could teach 
us that all this brilliancy and glory heralded 
death. It would seem that they were entering 
upon a new life, instead of being pushed off the 
klage to make way for a new generation. 
The year has culminated in field and forest, 
and the farmer is gathering in his harvests. The 
first frosts have come, and you see the small 
hoar crystals glittering in the morning sun upon 
the grass and along the fences. The pumpkin 
and squash vines are the first to feel its power, 
and the broad leaves droop and turn black, as the 
sun comes up, leaving the yellow' globes, and the 
crook-necks all exposed. The farmer hardly 
knew how rich he was, until the frost cleared 
away the luxuriant mass of foliage. Now the 
potato patches and the edges of the corn fields 
and the gardens are yellow with the raw materi¬ 
al of pumpkin pies, and Thanksgiving. The or¬ 
chards feel the chill breath of the frost, and you 
hear the apples dropping under all the trees, as 
if seeking warmer quarters in the thick grass be¬ 
neath the branches. The apples are abundant in 
almost all parts of the country, and the poorest 
families can lay in their Winter stores of Green¬ 
ings, Pippins, and Spitzenbergs. An orchard 
loaded with fruit, and ripening in the October sun, 
is one of the finest sights in the country. Here 
is a tree blushing in every bough with the crimson 
fruit, and there they hang in long yellow bunch¬ 
es waiting for the basket. The Winter fruits are 
not harmed by the early frosts, and they will ad¬ 
here to the branches until it is time to remove 
them by hand. The finishing touches to the 
flavor of the late fruits are given in the last few 
days of the season. If plucked too early, they 
shrivel, and do not ripen well in the cellar or 
fruit room. This is the reason why some con¬ 
demn certain very fine Winter pears. In some 
cases, the season is too short for them to reach 
maturity, in others, they are removed from the 
tree full two weeks before the close of the sea¬ 
son. Most of the Winter varieties of pears and 
apples are furnished with a thick foliage which 
adheres longer than on the Summer varieties, to 
afford protection to the fruit. We have some¬ 
times left the Glout Morceau as late as the mid¬ 
dle of November, with the best results. The 
picking, storing, and ripening of Winter fruit is 
an art that can not be learned in a single season. 
With the harvest moon, come apple parings, 
and huskings, words full of meaning to the old 
m -n, if not to the boys. We see now the ample 
farmer’s kitchen, and the bushel baskets heaped 
with apples, and the merry group of lads, and 
lassies, seated for their work. There were at least 
a dozen of them gathered from the neighbors to 
lend a helping hand in preparing “ the apple sass.” 
It is now called apple butter, and, by some very 
proper people “ sauce.” A barrel, at least, was 
to be prepared from the green or rather fresh- 
pared sweet apples, and large stores of dried ap¬ 
ples were to be laid up for Winter use. The 
head of the household, as was meet, used the 
paring machine with three-tined fork and knife 
that cut the skin as thin as a wafer. The pared 
apples fell with wonderful rapidity into a large 
tub, and were, thence distributed among the young 
folks, to be halved, quartered, cored, and strung 
upon twine about two yards in length, for frying. 
The strings of apples, as they were finished, 
were put upon hooks in the ceiling, or upon poles 
ready to be removed in the morning to the sunny 
side of the house, where they hung in graceful 
festoons, the special delight of wasps and flies. 
With a huge pan of apples between a young 
couple, the work went on merrily, if not rapidly ; 
jokes flew back and forth, sometimes emphasized 
with apple seeds, and sometimes with something 
softer. Rustic awkwardness in company was 
happily overcome, for there was a place for the 
hands, and the hands had something to do. The 
tongues were unloosed, first about the work and 
the company, and then about something that 
might have been very hard work, under other 
circumstances. Wholes in the pan were halved, 
and disconsolate halves, out of it, were eventu¬ 
ally made whole. Work and wooing went to¬ 
gether in those good old times, when the kitchen 
was better known than the parlor, and the pres¬ 
ence of the “ old folks at home ” did not spoil the 
freedom and frolics of their children. 
The last apple being pared, and the last festoon 
hung up duly in its place, there was a resort to 
fortune telling. The rind of the apple being pass¬ 
ed three times round the head and dropped, inva¬ 
riably gave the first letter in the name of the suc¬ 
cessful lover. As the coil of rind almost always 
made an S, or something that squinted that way, 
it was easy to worm the secret out of the most 
bashful swain, and point out to him his intended 
Sarah or Sophia. These prophecies of the farm¬ 
er’s fireside sometimes turned out alarmingly 
correct, and were followed by wedding occasions 
and new homes. 
The huskings in the long evenings of the har¬ 
vest moon were larger gatherings, and not usu¬ 
ally cheered by the presence of the fair, until 
supper time. 
“ From many a brown old farm house, 
And hamlet without name, 
Their milking and their home tasks done, 
The merry huskers came. 
Swung o’er the heaped-up harvest 
From pitchforks in the mow, 
Shone dimly down the lanterns 
On the pleasant scene below ; 
The growing pile of husks behind, 
The golden ears before, 
And laughing eyes, and busy hands 
And brown cheeks glimmering o’er 
Half hidden in a quiet nook, 
Serene of look and heart, 
Talking their old times over, 
The old men sat apart; 
While up and down the unhusked pile, 
Or nestling in its shade, 
At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, 
The happy children played.” 
In the warm frostless evenings, such as we 
often have in this month, the scene was not laid 
upon the barn floor, but under the open sky, the 
full moon giving plenty of light for the huskers 
When the work was done, the company adjourned 
to the house, and tea, coffee, cakes, and cheese, 
were served up in rustic style. These “ bees ” 
as they were sometimes called, were kindly m 
their influence. They often helped a short hand¬ 
ed neighbor in his harvest and were happy 
social gatherings. The modern dances already 
becoming too popular among our rural popula¬ 
tion are poor substitutes for these primitive, and 
simpler, but more natural and enjoyable festivi¬ 
ties of the olden time. For these there needed 
no display of expensive dress and dazzling jew¬ 
elry, which are too often the regalia of idleness 
and vice. “ The apple paring ” and “the husk 
ing bee,” are pleasant October memories with us. 
With a little re-modeling to adapt them to the 
changing times, they ought to be perpetuated 
among the cherished institutions of farm life. 
With our bountiful apple crop, and almost unpre¬ 
cedented yield of corn, in all the North and 
East, we shall have ample material, and joyful 
occasion “ to show ” up these institution^ 
