42 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
A WORD TO YOUNG EMIGRANTS. 
Notwithstanding the poets have so often 
sung of the ease and retirement of rural life, 
many of our youthful friends seem bent on 
seeking fortunes elsewhere. Perhaps some 
of our young readers are even now medi¬ 
tating a remove to the city; but before they 
discompose their wardrobe and arrange their 
linen with a view to departure, we beg leave 
to say one word. 
There are some features of country life 
which, we confess, are rather allied to prose 
than poetry. In our boyhood, for instance, 
we saw little poetry in driving the cows to 
pasture before breakfast on frosty mornings. 
Neither did we feel particularly inspired 
while mowing away hay in the top of a barn 
whei-e it was hot enough to parboil pump¬ 
kins—to say nothing of having both eyes 
and nose filled with dust and hay-seeds. 
Neither did it smack much of Pegasus to 
ride upon crooked rails with the sharp side 
turned upwards ; and even now, we think it 
the most disagreeable equestrian exercise 
we ever went through with. Last of all, 
turning grindstone we thought absolutely 
prosy. 
And yet the recollection of our early years 
is any thing but dull. We remember with 
what pleasure we used to wander over the 
fields, scale fences, leap across brooks, race 
through the woods, climb trees, and shout 
and sing to the echo of our own voices. 
How often have we clambered up rocks, and 
gathered mountain flowers, and rolled down 
stones, and laughed to hear them crack and 
crash among the trees, and break and bound 
and rattle, far below. 
And then come recollections of sitting be¬ 
side the old fire-place, big as a pair of barn¬ 
doors, with its trammels and andirons, and 
rows of apples strung across the hearth. 
And what a huge back-log there was, and 
how it sissed and simmered at the ends, and 
how the fire crackled and roared up the 
chimney. We affirm, with all the gravity oi 
a theologian, there was more freedom in that 
old fire-place, than all the grates and fur¬ 
naces of a modern mansion. 
But now we live in “ town,” where we 
daily experience the beauties of contrast. 
Instead of the quiet and stillness of the coun¬ 
try, we have the endless roar of carts and 
stages, and narrow side-walks instead of 
meadows, and in place of the beautiful birds, 
a solitary gull floating about East River, and 
in place of fragrant clover-fields and glorious 
apple-trees, a little back yard relieved with 
a grape-frame, and a dirty ailanthus, and a 
high board fence. 
Belive it, boys, the country is the place for 
genuine happiness, though the city yields 
in point of omnibusses, men and mud. * 
All Letters to be Prepaid Hereafter.— 
The new postage law, which takes effect on 
and after April 1st, requires all letters to be 
prepaid —3 cents per half ounce for less than 
3,000 miles, and 10 cents per half ounce for 
over that distance. This new regulation is 
a good one. As we understand the law. 
Postmasters are not allowed to forward any 
unpaid letters. Every person should take 
care that his communications do not lie in 
the home “ Dead Letter Office,” through his 
own carelessness or neglect to pay the post- 
age. 
Great Sales of Short Horn Cattle.— 
We would call attention to the advertise¬ 
ments of cattle sales in this weeks paper. 
That of Mr. Tanqueray, in England, for the 
25th of April, is the most important adver¬ 
tised since the celebrated sale of Earl Ducie. 
It will be seen that many of the animals in 
his herd are the get of Duchess bulls, bred 
by the late Mr. Bates, or their direct de¬ 
scendants. 
Col. Sherwood’s, stock is principally of the 
Princess tribe, famous for their deep pedi¬ 
grees, high quality, and fine points; and con¬ 
sequently highly valuable for crossing on 
other tribes not so high bred. 
Mr. Tredwell and Mr. Cowles, also offer 
Short Horns and Devons for sale. 
Grape Vines. —Attention is also directed 
to Dr. Underhill’s, announcement of grape 
vines. 
DEATH OF MR. SAMUEL ALLEN. 
The sudden death of this excellent man 
occurred at Morristown, N. J., on the morn¬ 
ing of the 21st inst., in his 78th year, after a 
brief illness of three days. Mr. Allen was 
the father of the publishers of this journal, 
and has long been known to our readers both 
as a contributor to its pages, and a zealous 
promoter of agricultural improvement. 
Mr. Allen was born in Petersham, Worces¬ 
ter County, Massachusetts. The active pe¬ 
riod of his life was spent chiefly in commer¬ 
cial business. At about sixty years of age 
he retired, and from that time to his decease 
devoted himself to rural pursuits, which he 
ever loved. 
He wrote frequently for the columns of 
our journal, with point and force. His man¬ 
ners were courteous, bland, and affectionate ; 
his conversation refined and instructive ; and 
to all he was a friend and a brother. 
He was a religious man—ever acknowl¬ 
edging his deep responsibility to his Maker, 
and bending in humility daily at his altar. 
For forty years he had been an officer of 
the Presbyterian Church—twelve of which 
were in connection with the associated Dutch 
Reformed Church in this City, with which 
his connection remained until his death. 
He died, as he had lived, in the full confi¬ 
dence of salvation through his Redeemer, 
and in humble faith of a blessed immortality. 
BEAUTIFUL OLD AGE. 
Mrs. Sigourney, in her book “ Past Meri¬ 
dian,” just published, gives the following 
charming picture of contented and virtuous 
old age : 
I once knew an aged couple, who for more 
than sixty years had dwelt in one home, and 
with one heart. Wealth was not theirs, nor 
the appliances of luxury, yet the plain house 
in wffiich they had so long lived was their 
own. Humble in every appointment, that 
they might keep free from debt, they were 
respected by people in the highest positions, 
for it was felt that they set a right example 
in all things. Every little gift or token of 
remembrance from friends—and all who 
knew them were friends—awakened the 
fresh warmth of gratitude. Though their 
portion of this world’s goods was small, 
benevolence, being inherent in their natures, 
found frequent expression. Always they 
had by them some book of slight expense, 
but of intrinsic value, to be given as a guide 
to the young, the ignorant, or the tempted. 
Cordials also, and simple medicines for de¬ 
bility, or incipient disease, they distributed 
to the poor—for they were skillful in extract¬ 
ing the spirit of health from herbs, and a 
part of the garden, cultivated by their own 
hands, was a dispensary. Kind, loving 
words had they for all—the fullness of their 
heart’s content brimming over in bright 
drops, to refresh those around. 
That venerable old man, and vigorous, his 
temples slightly silvered, when more than 
four score years had visited them, how 
freely flowed forth the melody of his leading 
voice, amid the sacred strains of public wor¬ 
ship ! His favorable tunes of Mear and Old 
Hundred, wedded to these simply sublime 
words, 
u While shepherds watched their flock by night,” 
and— 
“ Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,” 
seem even now to fall sweetly, as they did 
upon my childish ear. These, and similar 
ancient harmonies, mingled with the devout 
prayers that morning and evening hallowed 
his home and its comforts ; she, the loved 
partner of his days, being often sole auditor. 
Thus, in one censor, rose the praise, which 
every day seemed to deepen. God’s good¬ 
ness palled not on their spirits, because it 
had been long continued. They rejoiced 
that it was “new every morning, and fresh 
every evening.” 
By the clear wood-fire in winter, sat the 
aged wife, with serene brow, skillfully busy 
in preparation or repairs of garments, as 
perfect neatness and economy dictated; 
while, by the evening lamp, her bright knit¬ 
ting-needles moved with quickened zeal, as 
she remembered the poor child, or wasted 
invalid, in some cold apartment, for which 
they were to furnish a substantial covering. 
In the later years of life, their childless 
abode was cheered by the presence of a 
young orphan relative. She grew under 
their shadow with great delight, conforming 
her pliant heart to their wishes, and to the 
pattern of their godly simplicity. When they 
were seated together, she read to them such 
books as they chose, and treasured their 
Christian counsel. Her voice in the morn¬ 
ing was to them as the carol of the lark, and 
they seemed to live again a new life in her 
young life. She was to them “ like the rose 
ot Sharon and the lily of the valley.” 
Love for the sweet helplessness of unfold¬ 
ing years, seemed to increase with their own 
advancing age. Little children, who know 
by instinct where love is, would draw near 
them, and stand lamb-like at their side. 
Thus they passed on, until more than ninety 
years had been numbered to them. They 
were not weary of themselves, or of each 
other, or of this beautiful world. Neither 
was time weary of bringing them, letter by 
letter, the full alphabet of a serene happiness, 
and when extreme age added the Omega, 
they were well educated to begin the bliss 
of eternity. 
The machinery of that immense piece of 
mechanism, the great London clock, is thus 
described in the Foreign Quarterly : 
The pendulum is 14 feet long, and the 
weight of the end of it is 100 pounds; the 
dial on the outside is regulated by a smaller 
one within; the length of the minute hand 
on the exterior dial is 8 feet, and the weight, 
of each 75 pounds ; the length of the four 
figures 2 feet 2^ inches ; the bell is about 10 
feet in diameter, and Aveighs 4^ tuns, and is 
