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^AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
GIFFORD MORGAN, JR. 
Foaled May 23, 1850, the property o( Elijah Judson of Woodbury, Conn. Sire, Gifford ; g. sire, Woodbury ; g. g. 
sire, Justin Morgan Dam, Ribbon Back, by Young Black Hawk; g. dam, taken from Vermont to Connecticut in 
1825, ami said to have been tired by Justin Morgan. Gifford Morgan, jr., is jet black", a little under 15 hands high, 
and weighs about 1.10) tbs. He is now owned by Mr. II. B. Munson, and is kept at Keokuk, Lee County, Iowa. 
We are glad to see the Morgan stock so well represented west of the Mississippi. 
LETTER FROM TIMOTHY BUNKER, ESQ. 
HIS VIEWS ON PASTURING CATTLE IN THE ROAD. 
Mr Editor : — You see, I was so busy last 
month, planting, and getting things started for the 
Summer, that I didn't find a minute’s time to 
write to anybody, and hardly to be polite to my 
neighbors I wish all my neighbors had been as 
busy, and as slack on politeness as myself. But 
no sooner had the grass begun to start in the 
Spriiic, than some of them began to send along 
their compliments by their cattle, as much as to 
say, “By your leave, Mr. Bunker, I will keep 
your lawn in front of the house well cut and 
shaven, and won’t ask you anything for the job.” 
I counted, on Saturday, at least a dozen animals 
in the road. There was Jake Frink’s horse and 
oolt, and Bill Bottom’s drove of yearlings, and 
Uncle Joiham Sparrowgrass’s two cows, besides 
two or three other folks’ cows that I should not 
like to mention in the same company. 
Now you see, Mr. Editor, if a man’s going to 
be polite at all, it is always best to attend to it in 
perstm. This sending along civilities by stray 
cattle is rather doubtful courtesy. It might hap¬ 
pen, you know, that the shaving of one’s lawn 
down to the roots would not be acceptable, and if 
it were, a second civility in the shape of the hogs 
to turn the sod of the lawn bottom side up, might 
he a lit tie too much of a good thing. (You see I 
have learned to say “ lawns ” since I commenced 
reading the papers ) 
Now I don't like to say a word against my 
neighbors in general, or the Hookertown people 
in particular. But this turning cattle into the 
street is a piece of bad morals, that is a disgrace 
to any community. It is against the law, and 
every man has a right to put stray animals in the 
pound, and make the owners pay damages. But 
if one enforces the law, it always makes trouble, 
and the man who finds his cattle impounded, al¬ 
ways feels aggrieved, and lays up a grudge against 
his complaining neighbor. He does not consider 
that he has himself been an offender first, and 
violated the law. It is a clear case, that when 
streets were laid out, they ceased to be private 
property, and were henceforth to be held for the 
public good, to serve simply the purposes of 
travel. If a man turns his cattle into the high¬ 
ways to feed, he violates the rights of his neigh¬ 
bor, as much as if he turned them into his neigh¬ 
bor’s pasture. He appropriates to his own use, 
what belongs to another. He not only trespasses 
upon the public domain, but his cattle become a 
nuisance to the whole neighborhood. They enter 
every open gate and yard, and frequently become 
unruly, leap fences, and destroy crops at this 
season of (he year. The loss of temper from 
these constantly-recurring provocations is very 
great. I think Job himself would have fretted 
some, to have waked up in the morning, and 
found a dozen cows in his corn-field. 
It is a barbarous practice, and costs the com¬ 
munity a hundred-fold more than all the grass in 
the road is worth. We have to make a great 
deal more fence than we should need, if every¬ 
body confined their cattle to their oivn pastures. 
Now, every man has to fence all his lands by the 
road, not for his own convenience, but to keep 
other folks’ cattle from trespassing upon. him. I 
have been in communities without fences by the 
road-side for miles, and rode through the standing 
corn, and rye and oats, without seeing a cow or 
calf. When we reckon fence at a dollar a rod, 
we can see to what a large expense farmers 
are subjected, to give a few penurious people the 
privilege of pasturing their cattle in the road. 
You see, Mr. Editor, I am not going to stand 
this nuisance any longer. I shall give Jake Frink 
and Bill Bottom one fair warning, and after that, 
if their cattle are found in the road, they will go 
to the pound. This kind of politeness costs too 
much entirely. What do you think of it 1 
Yours to command, 
Timothy Bunker, Esq. 
Esquire Bunker is right. Cattle running 
at large are a nuisance that should not be 
tolerated in any civilized community. The 
p und is a sure remedy. Let him try it.— 
Ed. 
WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THE HENS < 
“ Have not had an egg for a week, and the 
corn they eat is a caution in these hard 
times.” They are shut up in a yard, of 
course, and cannot have access to the green 
grass, and to the insects, which Providence 
has provided for them in Summer. “ Man 
shall not live by bread alone.” And the 
proverb is true of fowls. "What could you 
expect of sensible hens, but that they would 
stop lajing when you cut off the supplies. 
Now get a liver from the butcher's stall, or 
any other cheap meat, and see with what 
avidity they will devour it, and almost quar¬ 
rel for the last morsel. Offal from the ffsh 
market, or any animal food, will answer 
quite as well. If at a distance from mark¬ 
ets, upon the farm, and you confine your 
hens, mix coarse meal with whey, or skim¬ 
med milk, to satisfy their craving for animal 
food. Supply them also with clear water, 
and grass or weeds daily, and ashes and 
oyster shells. Look also at the roosts, and 
keep the droppings well sprinkled with plas¬ 
ter and muck. Attend to these things, and 
you and the hens will soon sing anew song 
over fresh laid eggs. 
A GOOD WORD EOR TOADS. 
Tradition says of the Indians, that it was 
their custom when they carried their friends 
out to burial, to call for eulogies of the dead 
as they stood around the grave If a good 
word could be spoken for the departed, he 
was committed to the dust with all the hon¬ 
ors ; but if he had lived so worthless a life 
that no one could speak well of him, he 
was left by the open grave, without the 
rights of sepulchre. 
Were this custom now prevalent, it might 
go hard with the toad, if we took common 
fame as the true interpreter of his merit. It 
is true that Shakspeare sung of him, some 
centuries ago : 
“ Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.” 
But the poet’s faith in his jewels is now 
put down among popular fallacies, and 
he is simply regarded as an ugly mons¬ 
ter, one of those mysteries of Providence 
which mortals are not expected to fath¬ 
om. Neither for good or bad qualities 
is he celebrated, but is looked upon as a dis¬ 
gusting reptile, without use appreciable by 
man. But there was truth as well as poetry 
in the bard’s illustration. The toad has a 
jewel, but he was mistaken about its locali¬ 
ty. It is sealed in his stomach instead of 
his head, and, unlike the oyster, whose 
pearls are the result of disease, this comes 
of health and good digestion. 
We were walking in our garden the other 
day, as we love to do, and came upon one 
of these squatters among our squash vines. 
He was seated near his hole in the wall, 
surveying the premises, and apparently en¬ 
joying the growth of the vegetables like a 
philosopher. Have you ever noticed the 
