AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
Jmpefr to kjpfe flje Jrater, % planter, into tjje (Sartor. 
AGRICULTURE IS THE MOST HEALTHFUL, THE MOST USEFUL, AND THE MOST NOBLE EMPLOYMENT OF MAN— Washington 
33© 
EDITED BY i 
ORANGE JIT©©, A. ill, I 
PUBLISHED BY 
AEEEN & Co., 189 Waten’-st. 
vol. xv—No. 5.] NEW-YORK, FEBRUARY, 1856. [new series-No. ioo. 
CALENDAR FOR FEBRUARY. 
“ The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep 
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait 
Their wonted fodder ; not like hungering man, 
Fretful if unsupplied ; but silent, meek, 
And patient of the slow-paced swain’s delay.” 
We trust the time is not far distant when 
Cowper’s picture of the stock yard of our 
northern farms will be only known in poetry. 
It was bad enough in the mild winters of 
England, a century ago. Now in our severe 
climate, with months of unbroken snow and 
ice, it should only be known as a relic of a 
barbarous age. We take it for granted, gen¬ 
tle reader, that you have already caught the 
more humane spirit of this nineteenth centu¬ 
ry, that your cattle are all housed, and the 
moan of no shivering beast mingles with the 
howl of the night winds as they sweep around 
your comfortable dwelling. Supposing that 
it is all right in the barn, the pig-stye, and 
the hen-house, let us draw up around your 
winter fire, and chat awhile of the coming 
season. 
Editor. —I see you have hard coal and a 
grate, this winter, instead of wood and an 
open Franklin, with which I found you a 
few years ago. How does this happen ? 
Reader. —Yes, we farmers who live near 
the rivers and villages along the railroads, 
have begun to burn coal, and its use is in¬ 
creasing every year. The wood is not all 
cut off yet, but we are obliged to be economi¬ 
cal in its use. As long as father lived, I 
kept up the wood fire. He wanted to see 
the blaze, and seemed to enjoy the fore stick 
and the shovel and tongs so much that I 
could not bear to cross him. But now that 
he has gone, and another generation has 
come upon the stage, we only burn wood in 
the summer for cooking. I find that a tun 
of coal will give as much heat as two cords 
of wood, and the cost is about the same. 
There is still a market for wood in the vil¬ 
lage at six and seven dollars a cord, and when 
I carry a load to market I may as well bring 
back a tun of coal as to come empty. It is 
equal to twice its price in wood, and there is 
no expense for cutting and splitting. It is 
the easiest way I can furnish my fuel. It is 
always dry and well seasoned, and requires 
no watching. It is easily kept up all night, 
and nothing freezes now in the kitchen and 
kitchen chamber. 
Editor.— And what first led you to make 
this change in your fuel 1 
Reader.— Why, you see I always was a 
little foolish, and read the papers, and 
thought of what I read. They used to laugh 
at me as a book farmer, and experimenter. 
But they have done with that long ago. I 
first saw an article in an agricultural paper, 
a half a dozen years ago, about the increas¬ 
ing scarcity of wood, and the disappearance 
of our forests. The writer took the ground 
that this affected the climate, and had some¬ 
thing to do with the drouths of summer. 
This set me to thinking. And then the fam¬ 
ilies that I supply with butter in the village 
had begun to use coal, and found it much 
cheaper than wood. They had stoves and 
grates, and I thought if it was good economy 
there, it would pay on the farm. So I sell 
wood and buy coal, and find it pays. The 
change is coming over all my neighbors, and 
you will now find coal at half the houses in 
the town. 
Editor. —So you think it pays to take the 
papers'? 
Reader. —Certainly I do. I began with 
one paper ten years ago, and I now take four 
agricultural and two horticultural papers, 
and consider them the best investment I 
make in my farming operations. They not 
only help my own work but that of my neigh¬ 
bors, who are principled as they say against 
book farming. A hint from the paper car¬ 
ried out successfully in my fields is sure to 
find its way into the fields of my neighbor 
next year, though he never reads any thing; 
no, not even his bible. But he will come 
over here of an evening, and talk over farm 
matters, and go home with the cream of a 
dozen papers in his noddle, that he has 
skimmed off of my conversation. He flat¬ 
ters himself that he is very conservative, 
and yet new ideas are invading his farm 
every year. Some of mv neighbors have 
broken through the ice, and begun to take the 
papers, and the number of readers is rapidly 
increasing. 
Editor. —What is your list of journals, and 
what do you consider the best 1 
Reader. —I can not give a definite answer 
to the last question. There is no best in the 
sense of excluding the others. Every one 
more than pays its way, and I have no doubt 
it is best for me to take all that are now upon 
my list. They cost ten dollars in all, and 
there is no X in my yearly expenses that I 
part with more cheerfully than this. Their 
visits are warmly welcomed, and wife and 
the children keep about as well booked up in 
them as myself. 
Editor. —I arn glad to hear that you will 
be able to keep your sons then upon the 
farm ? 
Reader. —Well, I think they will never see 
a brighter spot than the old homestead. The 
flower garden is a gem of a place in the 
summer, and they all have a patch where 
they work with their mother and sisters. 
The young folks took prizes at the fair for 
fine flowers, and for aught I can see they are 
as full of excitement and happiness as their 
city cousins. 
It is not every fireside where we should 
find matters so much to our liking, and where 
the reader would find so little interruption to 
his conversation. But the number of intel¬ 
ligent cultivators of the soil is greatly in¬ 
creasing, and the ties that bind farmers’sons 
to rural lile are rapidly multiplying. At this 
dreary season the intellectual field is culti¬ 
vated with as much assiduity as they culti¬ 
vate the natural field in summer. They 
have their cheerful fire-side, their file of new 
books and papers, their songs and music, and 
circle of happy faces. May no shadow of 
sorrow ever dim their luster. This month 
brings its duties and pleasures. 
Square accounts — If it was not done last 
month. Let no account go over another sea¬ 
son. Give your note if you have not the 
money for all indebtedness. It will save you 
from foolish expenditures, and make you 
study economy more closely. 
Planning your work for the spring and 
summer should not be deferred longer. De¬ 
termine the use of every field, the crop, the 
seed, and the manures. If short of stable 
manure, either cultivate less land or buy No. 
I Peruvian guano. Land can not be culti¬ 
vated with profit without manure ; and a 
heavy dressing pays much better than a 
less quantity. 
Map your farm , if you have not already 
done it, so that you can see at a glance every 
field, and every tree in your orchard. This 
will facilitate your keeping debit and credit 
with every field. You will learn something 
then of every crop and every field, with each 
passing year. 
Cut scions this month, if you find any 
choice varieties of fruit when away from 
home. If upon your own premises, it can be 
delayed until next month. Put them in a 
cool damp cellar in sand, and they will not 
shrivel very much. 
Trim grape vines. —This should not be de¬ 
layed beyond this month. Vines trimmed in 
March do not have time to sere over their 
wounds, and will sometimes bleed badly. 
Improve the first pleasant day with your 
knife. Trim closely, and expect grapes with 
confidence. 
Examine your fruit trees.. —The young 
