AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
329 
rather later, and the Delaware grape, still 
earlier (1st September.) We have need of 
more Mr. Caywoods. 
TURNIPS. 
We have obtained a very good growth of 
turnips, sown as late as the first of Septem¬ 
ber, and fair crops may be expected from 
seed sown by the 15th or 20th of this month. 
Next to ruta baga’s one of the best varieties 
is the yellow Aberdeen., growing almost as 
large and nearly equaling it in nutricious 
qualities, and also the time to which it may 
be kept. To preserve the young plants from 
the fly it has been proposed to smear the 
seed with fish oil, but the best protection 
after all is rapid growth. This is to be se¬ 
cured by a thorough preparation of the 
ground and by a subsequent liberal applica¬ 
tion of stimulating manure, such as Peruvian 
guano, superphosphate of lime, or well-rotted 
compost or liquid manure. The late sowing, 
that the yellow Aberdeen will bear, makes it 
less liable to injury from the fly. 
Next to these varieties we rank the strap 
leaf red top, which may be sown eight or 
ten days later, while the the purple top ranks 
fourth, and may be sown as late as the first 
week in September. 
All varieties of turnips are bcnefitted by 
frequently stirring the soil between the rows, 
until the leaves become too large to allow of 
it with safety. 
BASKETS. 
A correspondent wishes to know the quan¬ 
tity of fruit necessary to “ make” a basket— 
as, for instance, blackberries, raspberries, 
whortleberries, apples, peaches, &c. 
This is certainly .a proper question; but 
as far as answering is concerned, we might 
as well undertake to give the quantity of 
flour necessary to make a loaf of bread. We 
believe there is some definite rule among 
bakers ; though having noticed recently that 
one lady has ordered her baker to thrust the 
the loaves through the key-hole, we sup¬ 
pose the quantity must vary. 
Now a basket, in New-York, is one of the 
most indefinite things in the world. The 
most we can say of it is, it is a basket. If 
we could determine the size of the basket, 
we might give our idea as to the quantity 
necessary to “ make ” it; but as a New- 
York basket has no particular size, so it can 
hold no particular quantity. We may state, 
however, in general terms, that it will hold 
more or less—especially less—according to 
circumstances. 
Strawberries, common raspberries, &c., 
come to market in small baskets, which may 
hold from a gill to a pint. Therefore we 
suppose it would take a gill or a pint to 
“ make” them—with this proviso, however; 
that a basket is “made” when it is full. But 
if, as often happens in New-York, a basket 
is “ made” when only half full, then it would 
require from two gills to a half gill. Any 
quantity, however, above or below this, may 
suffice, in New-York parlance. 
Fancy raspberries, so-called—that is, Ant- 
werps—usually come to market in pint bas¬ 
kets, with little variation either in the size of 
basket or quantity of fruit. Whortleberries 
and blackberries are usually sold by the 
bushel, which bushel contains 32 quarts, 
when there is no scrimping in the measure. 
There is another very indefinite kind of 
basket in our markets, sometimes called 
“ bushel-baskets,” in which are sold apples, 
pears, peaches, potatoes, &c. Now this 
“bushel” is a mere figure of speech, which 
signifies a half bushel, 20 quarts, 3 pecks, or 
whatever you please ; and the buyer must 
be guided in each particular case by the 
quality and quantity of fruit which “ makes” 
them. ___ 
The Brooklyn Horticultural Society 
hold their next regular monthly meeting on 
Tuesday evening, August 7th, at their rooms, 
cornea of Atlantic and Clinton-sts. 
Rhode-Island Wide Awake. —We direct 
especial attention to the official announce¬ 
ment of the R. I. Society for Encouragement 
of Domestic Industry, on page 334. It will 
be seen that arrangements are already made 
to facilitate the attendance of visitors and 
Exhibitors from this and even from the States 
farther west. 
BURYING GROUNDS. 
Our Saxon ancestors called the grave-yard 
“God's acre.” The idea is beautiful, and the 
same sentiment should lead us to adorn our 
ultimate resting places. Almost the first 
recognition that w r e detect of the idea of an¬ 
other life, is with the ancient Egyptians ; and 
it was by them associated with embalming 
and sepulture—arts of preserving the dead. 
The soul is represented in their pictures and 
sculptures, in the form of a dove leaving the 
dying body, and the individual is subsequent¬ 
ly depicted undergoing the labors of an in¬ 
termediate condition—a kind of purgatory— 
from which he eventually passes into the 
presence of the gods, to be again clothed in 
his natural body. It was that the soul might, 
on its return, find its tenement fit for occu¬ 
pation, that such pains were taken for pre¬ 
servation of the body. We, believing in the 
doctrine of a resurrection of the body, as 
brought to light through revelation, may well 
be shamed in our niggardly tribute to the 
memory of the dead, by these primitive peo¬ 
ple. They spent considerable portions of 
their lives in building their tombs, while we 
scarcely bestow a thought on our final rest¬ 
ing places. These heathen kept alive and 
green the memories of the departed, by cost¬ 
ly structures ; while we, Christians, often 
designate their graves by two pieces of board, 
and leave their memories to perish with the 
decay of these wooden monuments. They 
protected their burial places with the most 
pious care, while we leave them to be trod¬ 
den by the feet of strangers. 
This comes partly of our migratory habits. 
It is one of the evils incident to our peculiar 
national circumstances—a part of the price 
that Young America must pay for greatness 
in reversion. A whole continent lies yet 
between us and the setting sun, and as we 
are the children of our fathers, we must 
even do as they did—journey out into the 
wilderness and claim our allotment, and like 
them, build up families of our own, if we do 
leave the graves of our ancestors behind us. 
But from the new home of the emigrant, 
where his ax echoes in the forest, or his 
plow cleaves the prairie, his heart makes 
daily journeys back to the graves of his 
fathers, and worships there, as he brush¬ 
es a tear from his eye with his big, rough 
hand. To him, the assurance that those 
graves are respected, is certainly worth 
something. It is a comfort even to know 
that they are not overgrown with brambles. 
On many of the farms in the eastern por¬ 
tion of the Union, are old family burying 
grounds, which have been inclosed with 
massive stone walls and iron gates, while in 
almost every grave-yard are small inclosures 
made by palings. These, if neglected, in a 
little time become tangles of wild shrubbery; 
the same result occurring, sooner or later, 
in every inclosure that is not mowed—so 
that some have even advocated leaving 
burying grounds to pasture, that the bush¬ 
es may be kept grazed down. But why 
not mow them l There are generally men 
enough in every town who would mow them 
two or three times a year for the grass, 
and some may be found among these 
who would be careful not to cut down 
plants. 
There is no direction in which rural taste 
can be employed to better advantage, than 
in embellishing our country burying grounds. 
Let them be inclosed with suitable fences, 
and where flagging-stone can be obtained, 
let walks be laid. Agravel-walk, unless dug 
down to the hard-pan and the trench filled in 
with pounded stone, is soon overgrown by 
the sod ; and it is difficult, too, to obtain 
gravel that will pack without allowing vege¬ 
tation. 
The planting of shrubbery on graves, is 
not to be commended, unless sufficient at¬ 
tention can afterwards be bestowed upon it 
to restrain its too luxuriant growth. When 
it has been browsed off, it is left equally un¬ 
sightly. Let the ground be well supplied 
with our native trees, such as the sensitive 
poplar, with its trembling leaves ; the maple, 
with its rustling foliage ; the elm, with its 
pensile boughs; and the willow, with its 
drooping branches of light green. 
In many places, cemeteries may yet be 
made of our primitive forest; and there is 
something grand in the idea of “ sleeping ” 
where such brave old sentinels keep watch 
over us ; of having such arms as theirs 
stretched out for our protection, and such 
roots as theirs twine lovingly around us. 
Evergreens have always been regarded as 
appropriate to cemeteries ; and among these 
there is none more funeral In aspect, or 
more appropriate to associate with mourn¬ 
ing weeds than the disheveled young hem¬ 
lock ; while there is none that better inti¬ 
mates aspirations after immortality than the 
heaven-pointing spruce. The dark green of 
the foliage of these trees contrasts beauti¬ 
fully, too, with the light green of the Avillow 
and the aspen and the white of monumental 
stones. Lodges for martins may be con¬ 
structed i.n the trees, and ground birds soon 
