358 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
THE STAR PAPERS. 
BY THE REV. HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
We have so often and so liberally quoted 
the very racy and attractive articles consti¬ 
tuting the above volume, as they appeared 
from time to time in the Independent, that 
our readers hardly need any further expres¬ 
sion of our opinion as to their merits. The 
volume comprises off-hand sketches, rever¬ 
ies, and fancies, that occupied, for the pass¬ 
ing moment, the fertile brain of the ever busy 
author. They are the spontaneous efferves¬ 
cence of the hours of relaxation from severer 
mental toil. The topics are mostly rural; 
and in the hands of their gifted author, are 
invested with all the interest which country 
life and country scenes impart to the devo¬ 
tees of Nature. 
As an illustration of their generally sport¬ 
ive and attractive tone, we subjoin a sketch 
which has just appeared in the Independent, 
and which will doubtless constitute one 
among the second volume of these popular 
papers : 
THE FARM. 
Lenox, July 28, 1855. 
What a world of things one has to look af¬ 
ter when he first reaches the country, and 
the farm ! First in order, of course, is the 
crop of children—tumbling, tumultuous, 
climbing, kissing, talking, and eager to pull 
you a dozen different ways. They are all 
tanned brow n as a chestnut. All are plump, 
ruddy, and hearty. One has had his curls 
cut off; another is rigged in farm-boy style, 
and the younger ones have their catalogues 
of mishaps to rehearse—the finger cut, the 
toe stubbed, the loss of a pet goat, the ac¬ 
quisition of a Newfoundland puppy, which is 
agreed to be the most extraordinary and 
amusing of all little fat black puppies. 
We sally forth, a long train of boys and 
girls following and pointing out the marvels. 
First we look after the grass—thick, succu¬ 
lent, “ green as grassland quite tempting. 
One is almost disposed to lie down and roll, 
and then to take a bite, just to see what kind 
of fare the Babylonish king must have had. 
Bravest of all grasses is the Indian corn ! It 
is now about three feet high, and waving its 
blades to every wind with the most graceful 
movements. It has had the last hoeing ; it 
is “ laid by.” Nothing now remains for it 
but to go forward, as all its fathers have 
done, grow, top out, then tassel out, then 
shake its top-dust down upon its silken tas¬ 
sel, then fill up the plump kernels, at which 
point, in respect to the sweet corn, we shall 
step in and relieve the stalk of any further 
care of the delicious ear, transferring it to 
the pot, the platter, the plate, and elsewhere. 
The field corn must go on and nurse its 
charge, swaddled in juicy husks, until the 
cob is armed with gold or silver grains, and 
the shrinking and withered husk lets out the 
tops of the shiny ears. 
We walk along the rows of potatoes, ad¬ 
miring the clusters of blossoms, and admir¬ 
ing the wisdom of Nature which ordained a 
race of Irish, especially to eat such tasteless 
things. Potatoes, rice, and white of eggs, 
baker’s bread, and cotton wool, are food 
whose flavor is to be apprehended by faith. 
Next we look after the oats, the most 
graceful of small grains; then after the 
wheat, and the barley. (Take note, we feed 
the barley to the stock, not to the brewers.) 
We walk through the purple and pink blos¬ 
soming clover, through the herds-grass, 
down into the pastures, to look after the 
cows and the yearlings. The kind and grass- 
breathed creatures know that we are stran¬ 
gers. They pause, with an unchewed 
mouthful, and look full-faced at us, and 
reach forth their muzzles to smell out who 
we are. By a little coaxing we make our 
peace, and are allowed to pat their sides and 
caress them. 
The barns next must be inspected; the 
empty mows, and stables, the yard, and, 
above all, the great barn-floor, which is to 
be bedded with fresh hay, and then receive 
our body for many an hour this summer. 
For, through the south door comes up the 
pictures of scarped mountains, and green 
hills, and tree-covered knobs, and the pale 
blue of distant mountains, and near fields 
full of elm and ash trees, and the lake, cut 
into three parts by the trees which line its 
edge, so that it looks like three pet pools in¬ 
stead of a one-mile-long lake. 
The hens are not to be neglected. We 
have no'pure bloods except the Boston Greys. 
The Shanghais have been abridged and im¬ 
proved. Our common barn-yards and the 
Shanghais have been rolled into one, and 
both have profited by the junction. The old- 
fashion hens have gained in size, and in all 
motherly qualities. The Shanghai has been 
led to see the error of rumplessness and of 
yard-long legs. After converting some inch¬ 
es of legs into tail-feathers, he has become 
a well-dressed and [most respectable crea¬ 
ture. 
A pair of turkeys have made their appear¬ 
ance here. Nine eggs have resulted. Nelly, 
the maid of the dairy and of the yard, has 
plucked away the eggs as soon as they were 
born, and to-morrow a broad-brested hen, 
who for the last week has been diligently 
setting upon an empty nest, is to take charge 
of these shells charged with turkeys. We— 
that is, the children—bring in from fifteen to 
twenty-five eggs a day, fresh, warm, white ! 
The city grocers may peddle their obsolete 
eggs to whom they will, but not to us, whose 
henery is every hour vocal with new achieve¬ 
ments, and whose pantry is rich in dishes 
rounded up with globes of white, which 
come and go with daily fluctuation. The old 
rooster is quite dilapidated. He is now put 
upon a pension and turned out of the coop. 
His feathers are ragged, his head scarred 
and battered, his tail is ragged and thin. He 
walks about with a subdued and serious air, 
as one who reflects upon the vanity of life. 
He utters no musical call as he picks up his 
seeds and morsels. Crowing is a past glory 
with him. All his past services are forgot¬ 
ten. His wives are given to others, and the 
poor Mormon patriarch wanders about, the 
very pauper of the barn! Although he 
walks up and down in sight of youthful roos¬ 
ters, not one of them takes the lesson to 
heart, or reflects upon his own destiny. 
The Boston Grey is careless ; the Bantam is 
fierce and fiery ; and the amalgamation 
Shanghai toweis up in perpendicular pride 
and prowess, as if he felt immortal blood 
within his heart. 
We have no geese. We are going soon to 
have some ducks. The pigeons are increasing 
prodigiously. What an air of state and abun¬ 
dance it gives to a place to have half a hun¬ 
dred pigeons flapping through the air, sweep¬ 
ing in long circles among the trees, cooing 
on the roof-top, and soiling everything that 
comes near the roosts ! 
We had almost forgotten the pigs. They 
are multitudinous and comely, and when 
they consider themselves neglected they are 
able to make their delicate notes of expostu¬ 
lation heard and heeded. 
And now, when this long and sultry wet 
weather shall have cleared up, and we have 
the peculiar Lenox air, the hills and moun¬ 
tains, we shall be prepared for the chroni¬ 
cling of other events. 
Shun the vulgar if you would be respected. 
fforikdtral department 
THE NEW BLACKBERRY. 
A year since we gave a somewhat full re¬ 
port (the first one published, we believe,) 
upon the claims, characteristics and value of 
the New-Rochelle Blackberry—called also 
the Lawton. We recommended the plant as 
one worthy of general cultivation, and our 
endorsement and remarks have been ex¬ 
tensively copied by the press of this 
country, and by some European journals, 
and a very general interest has been awak¬ 
ened. An evidence of this is found in the 
circumstance that, during this month, more 
than a hundred horticulturists and others, 
from Boston, New-York, Philadelphia, and 
the cities and towns between these places, 
as well as from Concord, Albany, Newburg, 
Utica, Syracuse, and Rochester, have visited 
the grounds of Messrs. Geo. Seymour & Co., 
of South Norwalk, Conn., in response to 
their invitation for “ all interested to come 
and see the plant growing and bearing, and 
taste the quality of the fruit.” 
These gentlemen have, we believe, the 
largest area in the country (some five or six 
acres) devoted to the cultivation of the gen¬ 
uine variety of this plant. A part of this 
ground they use for raising young plants, 
and a part was left to fruit this year for the 
purpose of showing it in bearing while in 
field culture. All who have examined the 
fruit have been surprised and delighted with 
the large size of the berry, its deliciousness, 
and especially its productiveness. We vis¬ 
ited this plot on Thursday of last week, and 
from what we saw there, as well as at other 
times during the past year, we are ready to 
endorse all we stated a year ago. (See page 
321, vol. xii.) 
The plants especially devoted to fruiting 
were set out two years ago—eight feet apart 
each way—upon a rather poor, worn-out, 
hill-side soil, with no other previous prepa¬ 
ration than plowing and an ordinary coat of 
barn-yard manure. The only cultivation 
since has been keeping down the weeds, and 
and the application of about 400 lbs. per acre 
of Peruvian guano, which was sown broad¬ 
cast last spring and worked in with a culti¬ 
vator where the plants were not spread out 
so much as to preclude the use of this im¬ 
plement. The ground is now so thickly 
covered with loaded vines and young shoots 
that it is difficult to go over it. 
Since the beginning of the month visitors 
have had free access to about one-fourth of 
an acre, and though hundreds of quarts have 
been eaten or carried away, the whole vines 
on this plot seemed to be loaded with ber¬ 
ries. Two canes in each hill were allowed 
to fruit. We counted the berries on some 
of the average-bearing canes or single stalks, 
and found from 500 to 1,000 ripe or growing 
berries on each. 
The size of the fruit can hardly be appre¬ 
ciated by those who have seen only the com¬ 
mon varieties of blackberry. Of about the 
average size, 30 to 40 berries filled a pint 
basket; while of those a little above the me¬ 
dium, 20 to 25 berries did the same. An 
