234 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
Hastening on, over hill and dale redolent 
with beauty, we soon reach East Bloomfield. 
This is a quiet cosey little village, remarka¬ 
ble for nothing except its Educational Insti¬ 
tutions, having two seminaries for boys and 
one for girls. 
A mile or two further on is West Bloom¬ 
field, another small village, less populous 
but more picturesque than its twin sister. 
West of this village lies a range of hills, or 
rather miniature mountains, rising about 
five hundred feet above the Passaic. This 
range is covered from base to summit with 
most luxuriant verdure. Far up the heights, 
to the right of the road we are now travel¬ 
ing, stands Mount Prospect Seminary, a 
large showy building, occupied as a school 
for boys. A more healthy location could 
scarcely be found. This large, tasteful man¬ 
sion, built at the base of the mountain ridge, 
is the residence of our friends. It is a new¬ 
ly established Seminary for young ladies, 
and is appropriately named Hill-side Semi- 
nary. 
A welcome greets us, so cordial that it 
brings back the happy past too vividly for 
perfect composure. Oh memory! hast thou 
most of joy or sorrow for the human heart ? 
Rested and refreshed, we have broken 
away from the parlor circle, and stand, tele¬ 
scope in hand, on the roof of Hill-side Sem¬ 
inary. What a beautiful view is spread out 
before us ! Far away across the plain and 
beyond the blue waters of the Hudson, New- 
York is plainly discernable. Yonder, to the 
left, in the dim distance, are the Palisades, 
and nearer, just there, rises the bold bluff 
from whence Washington daily and nightly 
watched the movements of the British army, 
when Sir Henry Clinton held possession of 
New-York. All over the vast plain before 
us lie towns and villages embowered amid 
nrture’s renewed verdure. To-morrow, 
when we stand on Eagle rock, ah, then we 
shall see ! 
Eagle Rock ! “What mountain-peak worth 
climbing, can be found in New-Jersey V ’ 
There it is, standing up, in firm, but not very 
bold defiance, amid the mass of living green 
that crowns the mountain range. To-mor¬ 
row we shall see! We have ransacked 
every nook and comer of this Hill-side 
house, as only the most privileged friends 
may, and find it commodious, airy, and well 
adapted to the purpose for which it was 
built. Is it strange that Mrs. N. and I should 
think of the beautiful but fragile city flowers 
in New-York, and wish we could transplant 
many of them hither to enjoy the fresh in¬ 
vigorating air, the bright sunlight, and the 
loving genial educational influences of our 
friends, the Clieever family ? 
“ The morn is up again, the dewy morn, 
With breath all incense, with cheek all bloom, . 
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, 
And living as if earth contained no tomb— 
And glowing into day.” 
Away, away to the mountains, while the 
dew is yet on the grass, the leaves, and the 
flowers. This cool, invigorating air, how it 
quickens the sluggish life-blood; how it 
brings the sparkle to the eye, and the rose to 
the cheek ! There is a beauty in this ever- 
changing scenery which enchants us! 
We begin the ascent of the mountain, but 
it is so gradual, and the carriage-road so 
smoothe, that we quite forget where we are, 
till our “ bonnie steed ” manifests symptoms 
of fatigue. 
Whoa ! Now for a climb ! On, on, up, up, 
we go, still so gradually, so charmed with 
the thousand beauties around us, that only 
by looking down can we realize how high we 
are above the dwellers in the plain. What 
is this on the tip top of the mountain ? The 
queerest, most attractive dwelling you ever 
saw? The front is round, not unlike a light 
house tower in form, and built of freestone. 
On the top of its steep, bark-covered roof, 
is an observatory, surrounded by a rustic 
ballustrade. There is an oblong addition to 
this front inclosed and covered with bark. 
Further back in the yard is a summer par¬ 
lor, built in circular form, with windows 
reaching to the ground. The siding is of 
bark, and the roof is thatched with straw. 
A rude stone fence, with a rustic gate, in¬ 
closes the front yard. 
Winding along just beyond the pale of the 
cultivated grounds, we again enter the for¬ 
est. Here, a simple fence of three or four 
wires fastened to living trees, effectually se-.i 
cures the grounds, yet preserves the perfect* 
rusticity of the domain. Here and there a 
guide-board points the way to Eagle Rock; 
at last, a rustic gate, fastened with a pin in 
primitive style, admits you to the inclosed 
grounds, and along the way you often find a 
rustic seat tastefully fashioned, inviting th.e 
weary climber to rest. At length the car¬ 
riage road terminates. That tree, where 
your horse stops instinctively, has been used 
for a tying post till the bark is quite worn 
away. A rustic gate of most exquisite 
workmanship, opens upon the foot-path lead¬ 
ing to the Rock. 
A few steps farther, and a view more mag¬ 
nificent than can be expressed, meets your 
gaze ! The beautiful valley of the Passaic 
lies at your feet; Orange, Newark, and Ber¬ 
gen appear scarcely beyond the reach of 
your voice. New-York, with its numerous 
spires, seems in the very neighborhood. 
Staten Island and Brooklyn Heights are dis¬ 
tinctly visible. The noble Hudson, the wind¬ 
ing Hackensack, and the placid Passaic, are 
intertwined like threads of silver amid the 
endless luxurience of green. Eagle Rock is 
a high precipitous bluff, taking its name 
from some tradition of olden time. The 
proprietor of the Rock, and the owner of a 
large portion of land in this vicinity, is a 
merchant in New-York. His family reside 
summer and winter in this rustic palace, and 
he pays daily visits to his place of business 
in the city. I regret that I did not learn his 
name, whatever it may be, he is a gentleman, 
and his quiet, unostentatious courtesy de¬ 
serves the thanks of an appreciating public. 
Long live the proprietor of Eagle Rock! 
WHITE TURNIPS FOR COWS. 
It will soon be time to sow turnips. I 
esteem them very valuable for milk cows. 
With your permission I will tell your read¬ 
ers how I raised and fed 500 bushels of tur¬ 
nips to milk cows. My wheat was har¬ 
vested early in July. I took three acres of 
stubble and drew upon it about 20 loads to 
the acre, of stable manure, muck and leached 
ashes, in about equal quantities. I then 
plowed the stubble, dragged thoroughly, and 
sowed common flat field turnips, brushing 
them in. In the fall I gathered about 500 
bushels of good sized turnips, which I com¬ 
menced feeding to my cows as gathered, and 
placed the balance in a cool barn or cellar 
and fed them out every day until they were 
all gone, sometime in January I think. 
“ But,” says the objector, “ your milk and 
butter tasted of turnips.” No, it did not. 
We made no butter, but furnish about 120 
customers daily with milk, and not the first 
one of them ever knew, or mistrusted that 
we fed turnips. Not a single complaint 
reached our ears. I think this was owing 
entirely to the manner of feeding, and if any 
of your readers will follow our course exact¬ 
ly, we are confident the milk or the butter 
will never taste of turnips. 
We had 2 men to milk 10 cows each, and 
the third man put the turnips in a long box 
and cut them with a spade, after which four 
quarts of corn and cob meal were sprinkled 
on each bushel. As soon as the milking 
was finished, the cows were fed one peck of 
turnips each ; this was done twice a day, 
and the cows gave a good supply of milk. 1 
think the time of feeding is the point. The 
cows must be fed immediately after milking 
and at no other time, and the quantity fed 
must be such as they will eat up immediate¬ 
ly. With these precautions we have a feed 
for cows which can be raised very easily and 
very economically. — E. Ware, in Country 
Gentleman. 
Pastures ought not to be allowed to grow 
up to weeds ; thistles, mulleins, yellow dock, 
etc.,occupy space which might just as well 
be filled with valuable herbage. Let them 
be cut frequently, and they may be extermi¬ 
nated. 
“A little humor now and then. 
Is relished by the best of men.” 
Extreme Politeness. — The Wyoming 
Mirror relates a good joke of an old collector, 
who was proverbial for his politeness as well 
as pertinacity. He was always in the habit 
of taking a delinquent debtor aside when he 
dunned him. One day he met a non-payer, 
upon an unfrequented road, some half mile 
from any house, and probably the same dis¬ 
tance from any human being. What does 
the old chap do but leave his buggy, call the 
other aside, and in a fence corner, politely 
asked him for the little balance! 
A Quaker Answer. —“Martha, does thee 
love me ?” asked a Quaker youth of one at 
whose shrine his heart’s holiest feelings had 
been offered up. 
“ Why, Seth,” answered she, “ we are 
commanded to love one another, are we not ?” 
“ Ay r Martha, but does thee regard me 
with that feeling the world calls love ?” 
“ I hardly know what to tell you, Seth. 
I have greatly feared my heart was an erring 
one. I have tried to bestow my love on all; 
but I may have sometimes thought,perhaps, 
that thee was getting rather more than thy 
share.” 
Top Knot. —In olden times the ladies used 
to wear a head dress of very unsightly 
shape, which they called a “ top-knot.” The 
fashion ran into great extravagances, and at 
length attracted the attention of the pulpit. 
It is related that on one occasion, a cele¬ 
brated preacher denounced these top-knots 
as prohibited by Scripture, and quoted from 
one of the Apostles the command “ top-knot 
come down!" He frightened some of the 
ladies prodigiously; but some of the more 
curious, referring to their Bible, were eased 
in their conscience by finding thatthe whole 
of the text read, “ Let him who is upon the 
house-fop not come down /” 
An editor in Missouri announces that the 
publication of his paper will be suspended for 
six weeks, in order that he may visit St. 
Louis with a load of bear-skins, hoop-poles, 
shingles, oak bark, pickled cat-fish, &c., 
which he has taken for subscription. He is 
bound to raise the cash on them. 
“ Pa, aint I growing tall ?” “ Why, what’s 
your height, sonny?” “ I’m seven feet, lack¬ 
ing a yard!” 
Why was the first day of Adam’s life 
the longest ever known ? Because it had no 
Eve. 
Lay by a good store of patience, but be 
sure and put it where you can find it. 
