I860.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
335 
the carbonic acid gas to escape, and to prevent 
the air from entering. So soon as the gas ceases 
bubbling through the water in the cup, the fer 
mentation is complete; then draw off into clean 
casks, bung tight, and place in a cool cellar, 
where it will continue. sweet for any length ot 
time. 
The advantage of this process is that the juice 
is preserved perfectly sweet, and you are more 
sure to draw it off at the right moment after 
fermentation ceased. When fermenting, the 
lighter particles of pomace are rising, the more 
heavy settling; and the least touch or jar of the 
cask will disturb the operation. In straining the 
liquor, too much care can not be taken to ex¬ 
clude the pulp, as its presence is apt to render 
the fermentation too violent, apd drive it into 
the acetous or vinegjp stage. A hair sieve, part¬ 
ly filled with hay or straw, answers the purpose. 
Another prpcess—and we think a good one — 
is to put the liquor, as it cpqips from the press, 
into a tub or open vesspl, qnd let it rejnain till 
the most active part of the fermentation is oyer, 
which will take place in fropi fp.UV to eight days, 
according to the weather and flie heqt qf the place 
in which the operation is conducted. A cool 
dark cellar is the best; cqol, that the action may 
not be accelerated, and dark, to avoid flies and 
other insects. As soon as fermentation com¬ 
mences, part of the pomace and lighter portions 
rise to the surface with the disengaged gas, in 
the form of froth, and the residue or heavier 
impurities fall to the bottom in the form of sed¬ 
iment. This is a critical moment. When the 
froth begins to crack, it slipyfld be carefully skim¬ 
med, and the liquor drawn off into clean, sweet 
casks. If left longer, the feculent matter or froth 
parts with the gas, sinks, and renders the liquor 
turbid, and as soon as the temperature attains 
a proper hight, the acetous fermentation com¬ 
mences, and vinegar is the result. 
C. N. Bement. 
— . -»-« - . •=- - 
For Vie American Agriculturist. 
' Blinks from a Lantern.XXII 
BY DIOGENES BEDIVIVTTS. 
ABOUT OUB, HOUSES, ETC. 
Times have greatly altered 
since I dwelt in the flesh. It 
suited my convenience and hu¬ 
mor to live iu a tub then, to re¬ 
buke the extravagance and folly 
of my times, and to show how 
little would meet the animal necessities of man. 
J threw away my drinking cup, tailing water in 
the natural way, to. show that the animals were 
not more independent than man, and that one 
philosopher, at least, was as capable of self help 
as common men. I have learned a good many 
things not dreamed of in my philosophy then. 
I have found out that man has a soul with an 
esthetic nature, and that the cravings of a man’s 
stomach are by no means his most imperious 
wants. He needs things beautiful and comely, 
for the growth of his soul, just as much as he 
needs food and drink for his body. 
I have sometimes thought, in my journeyings 
around among the farmers of modern times, 
that there was a great deal of the old tub phi¬ 
losophy still prevalent. I cannot see wherein 
a box is any better type of architecture than a 
tub; and a box is the model of the great ma¬ 
jority of farmers’ houses. To my eye, the six 
parallelogram sides of the box are not so pleas¬ 
ing as the circle of a tub. One would naturally 
think that all the carpenters in the country had 
studied nothing but Euclid, and that they could 
entertain no other proportions. There is a 
great want of taste in these houses. The archi¬ 
tect who contrived them, had no other concep¬ 
tion of man, than as an animal with certain 
physical wants. Ho must have a cage to feed 
and roost ip, and it might well be an exact 
cube as anything else. Up) cube is only broken 
in its outline by the roqf, because ft fains some¬ 
times, and the smoke must go out of the chim¬ 
ney. But for this infelicity qf the climate, we 
should have nothing but the bqx,pure and simple. 
How, in the necessities qf the back-woods, 
Where a man is struggling for the bare necessaries 
of life, I have nothing to spy against the log- 
cabin, and the cheapest ancj plainest build of 
dwellings. They are temporary expedients, 
looking forward to something better. But the 
box is by no means confined to the frontiers. 
We have townships settled more than a century 
agp, where the most of thp people live in two 
st.qry cages. The prevailing model is an un¬ 
painted box, the eaves projecting six inches be¬ 
yond the sides qf the house, withqpt a super¬ 
fluous board, qr shingle, or brick, ip the whole 
building, Thpre is nothing pleasing to the eye, 
nothing bpt the windows and chimpey to dis¬ 
tinguish it frqm a barn. 
Beside, the house is but half finished; the 
walls, if plpstered, have neither whitewash nor 
paper; and the molding and casings have po 
paint. Men and women tajeo their food sit¬ 
ting hr a row on a bepcl), like pigs at a trough, 
ps if chairs were a very extravagant luxury. 
If map is nothing bpt an animal, as some of 
my qpfemppraries used to argue] this is all well 
enough. But if he have a sopl with longings 
for the beautiful, this is very bad. It is a'neces¬ 
sary part of self culture to develop this esthetic 
taste. A man’s mind necessarily takes the hue 
of his surroundings. He can improve himself 
only by improving the objects with which he 
comes in daily, almost hourly contact. He does 
not fulfill his destiny by simply providing for 
his physical necessities. Other things being 
equal, he is a nobler and better being, more 
of a man, for all that he does to make his home 
tasteful and attractive to his children, and his 
circle of friends. 
When one is to build a house, it costs but a 
trifle more to make it beautiful. Some actually 
pay a large premium on ugliness. It may as 
well be in keeping with the surrounding scenery, 
and fit into its back ground of hill side and 
woodland, like a gem in its setting, as to be made 
a botch and eye-sore in the landscape, by its 
hideous contrast -with every thing lovely around 
it. It may as well stand in the right place, con¬ 
veniently situated for the farm work, and a little 
back from the street, as to be thrust into the high¬ 
way, as if it were a tavern, where everybody 
was expected to call. Trees are cheap and 
convenient in all parts of the land, and no 
adornments are more appropriate to a country 
home than these. Rows of elms, maples or 
oaks along the road side, evergreens by the 
carriage drive that leads to the house, and upon 
the plot of land in front, are inexpensive orna¬ 
ments, that will grow beautiful with years. 
The barn and other outbuildings may as well 
be made tasteful. A little outside beauty will 
not spoil the hay, or make the gram mold in 
the bin. Paint will not only be appreciated by 
the passer-by, but will preserve the buildings, and 
save the expense of repairs. 
Bruits are quite as nutritious as -wheat, com, 
and potatoes, and they look a great deal better. 
An orchard, a fruit yard, should be the chief 
material glory of the farm. Apples, pears, 
- r-3 
peaches, and plums, are beautiful in their season 
upon the trees, and hardly lesa attractive upon 
the table, furnishing a dessert better than pastry, 
and not half as expensive. Grapes hanging 
upon the trellis, in red and purple clusters; are 
cheap engravings, with which every farmer may 
adorn the outlook from his window. 
Nothing is more ornamental than improved 
stock. A horse worthy of the name costs mo 
more to keep, than the spavined jade that makes 
one ashamed to ride after him. He can be 
raised as easily, will go much faster, an d if you 
want to sell him, he will bring a much better 
price. A yoke of grade Devons, red, sleek, and 
plump, a perpetual feast to the eyes in their 
elastic step and graceful activity, will cost / no 
more to raise tliau the ungainly, slo w molded 
creatures that now move about the farm. 
The boys and girls that are growing up under 
your influence, love these beautiful things, and 
can not help it. They were made to love tllem, 
and if they can not have them and enjoy them 
at home, they will seek them elsewhere, as soon 
as they are able. The world moves outsifle of 
tfle farm, if not upon it. The farmer can no 
longer keep his children confined to the narrow 
circle of his own home, and parish. The loco¬ 
motive has thrust its non nose into his seclusion, 
and the children will see the world before they 
reach their majority. They will see objects of 
taste elsewhere, and long to possess tjiem. If 
the farmer wishes to save them for his own 
house, or for rural life in liis neighborhood, 
when they come tq marry and settle, he must 
show them upon his own premises that farm 
life do.es not necessarily dwarf one’s esthetic 
nature, that the farmer can till the soil, and 
adorn it, and make his home as comfortable and 
attractive as that of the citizen. This problem 
solved, it will be no longer difficult to retain 
the young upon the farm. It will be a hardship 
to leave home, and try their fortune in the city. 
When to Cut Timber. 
Conversing with an intelligent fanner of 
large experience, upon this subject, we found he 
fully sustained the views heretofore expressed 
iu the Agriculturist , viz.: that the best season for 
cutting timber is about mid-summer. His ex¬ 
planation was, that during the latter part of 
June and early in July, when the foliage is in its 
fullest vigor, the upward draft upon the sap is 
so great that very little moisture is left iu the 
tree, consequently the timber seasons hard and 
sound; but that during March and April there 
is so much water in the wood, that insects 
bore into it readily, thus producing “ pow¬ 
der post” through all the sap portion, and even 
into the heart wood. He mentioned the instance 
of a neighbor who cut his timber for a house in 
June, but when he came to work it out in the 
Winter, he lacked some ribs or slats upon which 
to nail the long roof shingles. He cut enough 
to supply the deficiency during the latter part 
of Winter, and completed the house. After the 
lapse of a few years, he examined the roof, and 
found the slats which were cut in Summer, per¬ 
fectly sound, while those cut in Winter, were 
badly affected by dry rot and “ powder post.” 
Our informant had also proved the same thing 
himself. He also remarked that when the ob¬ 
ject is to induce a free growth of new sho.ots for 
a future wood or forest, he preferred to cut in 
March, as the stumps sucker much more freely 
then, than when cut away in Summer. The 
latter, howmver, is the best season to clear off a 
growth of wood; the old stumps decay sooner. 
