AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
197 
and to throw over implements and even ani¬ 
mals requiring temporary protection from 
rain or dew. 
TIM BUNKER'S (.VIEW OF THE BIRD LAW. 
Jeremiah Sparrowgrass left Hookertown, 
for the commercial metropolis, at the tender 
age of sixteen, thinking that his salvation 
would be effected, and his fortune made for¬ 
ever, if he could find a situation as clerk in 
a dry good store. He found in the city the 
object of his lofty ambition, and, after a lit¬ 
tle roughing it, was duly installed as errand 
boy and professor of all small jobs, in a res¬ 
pectable establishment ,in Broadway. At 
the age of twenty-one, Jeremiah is a clerk 
with a salary, in the establishment where he 
began his mercantile life ; a youth of prom¬ 
ise in the esteem of his friends, and not slo'w 
in his own estimation. In May he took it 
into his head to visit his country cousins in 
Hookertown, and to regale himself a little 
with country^sports. 
Nothing seemed better adapted to his tastes 
than gunning, and he accordingly brought up 
from the city a fowling-piece, that he might 
carry out his deadly intent. He had seen 
certain brave and chivalrous souls returning 
from the Jerseys, dressed with hunting cap 
and coat, and ornamented with powder flask, 
shot bag and game pouch, the very pictures 
of genteel recreation. 
So the first morning after he had surprised 
Hookertown with his advent, he girdled on 
his shooting toggery, and military weapon¬ 
ry, determined to make the birds of his na¬ 
tive parish smell gunpowder and bite the 
dust. He had some obscure recollections 
that there was a prejudice against birds 
among the farmers, on account of their pull¬ 
ing up corn, and thought he should be per¬ 
forming a very good deed, as well as exhib¬ 
iting his own prowess by destroying them. 
His whole memory of country life had be¬ 
come exceedingly impaired by his city resi¬ 
dence, and he delighted to show his igno¬ 
rance of country life by asking questions 
upon topics that he was thoroughly instruct¬ 
ed in when he was a boy of ten upon the 
farm. 
Passing Deacon Smith’s orchard, Jeremiah 
Sparrowgrass, merchant of the city of New- 
York, spied a robin red-breast, singing away 
right merrily, with his bill in the air, as if 
his whole soul was exhaling in the melody. 
Beneath, in a fork of the tree was his mate, 
with a nest full of birdlings, and surely a 
happier family group was not to be found any 
where in the country. Bang went the gun 
of Mr. Jeremiah Sparrowgrass, and that 
morning song was ended. It was owing en¬ 
tirely to the sportsman’s inexperience, that 
a husband and lover was not also ended, and 
a whole brood bereaved of their natural pro¬ 
tector. The report of the gun brought out 
Deacon Smith before the heroic Mr. Spar¬ 
rowgrass had time to reload his piece, and 
make a demonstration upon the mother, who 
was fluttering and crying in a state of great 
apprehension in the tree tops. Jerry knew 
the Deacon as well as any boy knows his 
seniors in a country church that he has al¬ 
ways attended, but this morning affected 
ignorance, both of the deacon and his rob¬ 
ins. 
“My dear sir, will you have the kindness 
to inform me what species of bird this is. I 
am making a collection of the feathered 
tribes for my her barium, and should like to 
add this specimen to my list.” 
“ This bird,” replied the Deacon, “ is 
known as the Condor of the Andes, the 
same kind that sometimes carries off calves." 
Jeremiah Sparrowgrass, merchant of New- 
York city, did not stop to finish loading his 
gun, but sloped in the most expeditious man¬ 
ner. 
He crossed the road and struck into the 
cow pasture of Tim Bunker, thinking less 
probably of his her barium, and scientific at¬ 
tainments, than before he shot at the robin. 
Here he found birds more plenty than he had 
ever known them in his boyhood. A statute 
of Connecticut, enacted a few years since, 
which prohibits shooting certain varieties of 
birds upon another’s land, under a heavy 
penalty, proves a very efficient protection, 
and the birds have multiplied wherever the 
citizens have put it in force. Timothy Bunk¬ 
er, Esq., being a justice of the peace, and ar¬ 
riving at the honor somewhat late in life, had 
zealously enforced the law in his neighbor¬ 
hood, not only to maintain the dignity of the 
law, but to protect his own fields against the 
depredations of the insects. Though a very 
conservative man he could see the benefits 
of the law, and promptly warned off all in¬ 
truders from his wood and swamp pastures, 
where the birds loved to congregate. 
Jeremiah Sparrowgrass was first saluted 
by a Bobolink from the stake of a rail fence : 
“ Link, link-ee, wink, wink-ee, sweetch, 
sweetch-ee-ee, wee, wee-ee-ee-ee.” His fire 
brought down poor Bob O’Lincoln, a wound¬ 
ed dying bird, and waked up Tim Bunker, 
who happened to be in the adjoining field 
planting corn. The genteel merchant in pur¬ 
suit of country pleasures, was just bagging 
his game when Esq. Bunker came up. Spar¬ 
rowgrass had only got as far as “ My dear 
sir will you have the kindness” in his stereo¬ 
typed speech of enquiry, when he was inter¬ 
rupted. 
Why Jerry is this you, out here in Hook¬ 
ertown again, with your gun, killing our 
birds. You ought to be ashamed of yourself 
to shoot a poor skunk black-bird. What 
harm has he ever done you. His song is a 
little crooked I allow, but cold lead is not the 
stuff to straighten it with. It is the same 
song the Almighty gin him to sing and he 
has as good a right to sing it as you have to 
measure tape. It is a most inhuman thing 
to kill birds when they are laying their eggs, 
and hatching their young. Besides, Jerry, 
we’ve got a law against it, and all good citi¬ 
zens ought to obey the law. The birds are 
the best friends the farmer has, and we have 
learned better than to kill the crows, as we 
used to when they pulled the corn. Now 
Jerry, put up your shooting iron, and go 
straight home to widow Sparrowgrass’s, and 
if you shoot another bird in these parts 1’li 
have you fined before night.” 
Mr. Jeremiah Sparrowgrass withdrew im¬ 
mediately, being particularly disgusted that 
an old farmer should call a Broadway mer¬ 
chant “ Jerry,” and very much out of humor 
with the Connecticut Bird Law. The statute 
however is likely to stand for some years to 
come.— [Ed. 
HYBRIDIZING OF PLANTS. 
This subject is yearly attracting more at¬ 
tention among cultivators, and has already 
been turned to profitable account in the pro¬ 
duction of some of our finest varieties of 
fruit and vegetables. Every plant seems to 
be endowed by the Creator with a capacity 
for almost unlimited improvement. At least, 
the limits of perfection have not yet been 
reached, and those who have made this mat¬ 
ter their study, have the most faith in the 
improvement of plants. The amateur, from 
his extensive acquaintance with varieties, 
knows what is wanted in a given fruit, and 
can go to work intelligently to produce a 
new variety, that shall possess the desidera¬ 
tum. Nature has set the limits to his efforts, 
and wisely directs him to the points where 
he may make improvements. An apple may 
not be crossed upon a pear, so as to produce 
a new fruit, having the qualities of both the 
parents. But one variety of pear may be 
crossed upon another variety, so as to pro¬ 
duce a new fruit, that shall not only have 
certain qualities of the respective stocks, 
from which it was taken, but certain original 
qualities, unlike any other variety. Fruit 
trees are improveable in the time of their 
coming into bearing, and in the character of 
their wood and foliage, in the time of ripen¬ 
ing their fruits, in their size, appearance and 
quality. We have no one pear that unites 
in itself every desirable quality And if we 
had such a pear for the summer months, we 
should want to produce another equally good 
for each season of the year, so that all the 
circling months should bring their tribute of 
perfect fruit to reward the skill and industry 
of man. 
Some pear trees, which produce very fine 
fruit, are very slow growers, and come into 
bearing very late. It would be a desirable 
thing to produce another variety, with all 
their good qualities, making wood rapidly 
and producing fruit in five years from the 
bud, instead of fifteen. The Seckle is per¬ 
haps the highest flavored of pears, but it is 
a slow grower, and the fruit is very small. 
If we could have a seedling Seckle,that would 
retain all the flavor of its parent, and give us 
the rapid growth of the Bartlett, its early 
bearing, and the size of its fruit, it would be 
a great improvement. The Doyenne d’ ete 
is the earliest of our summer pears, but it is 
small. Could its size be doubled, it would 
be a great addition to our summer fruits. 
The months of August, September, October, 
and November, are already well supplied 
with excellent pears. Fine winter pears, 
that ripen with little trouble and prolong 
their season into the spring months, are still 
scarce. Pears ripening very early or very 
late should now receive the attention of our 
best cultivators. We have not a few ama¬ 
teurs in this country, who are giving special 
attention to this fruit. They are producing 
new seedlings from fruits that were carefully 
