AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
55 
the uncommonly wet weather which has trou¬ 
bled me so. The hot air has caused the cheese 
to crack, notwithstanding the linen cloths sewed 
over them. But thanks to these, I believe 
they have kept the skippers out. 
Wednesday, 28th. —Determined on making a 
batch of pumpkin pies, and some pumpkin 
Johnny-cake, or more properly journey-cake, 
for supper. For this purpose there is nothing- 
like the Valparaiso squash. It is as sweet and 
nutritious as any of the tribe, and far more 
palatable and delicate; and then it possesses 
this great added advantage, it grows larger 
than any pumpkin or squash we have ever cul¬ 
tivated. It is also a prolific bearer; and our 
man, with his shaving tool, will pare one in a 
few minutes big enough for a week’s use. Par¬ 
ing the ordinary squash and pumpkin is hard, 
slow work, and I always dread it. I have some 
good recipes for making pies, but such things 
are so common now, every housewife knows 
them. As for the journey-cake, I mis about 
one fifth pumpkin, and some eggs and milk, 
with the Indian meal, pour the batter into an 
iron dish, and bake slowly over the fire. It 
needs no sweetening. All the family pro¬ 
nounce it delicious, and eat it with great 
gusto. 
Thursday, 29th. —Almost cold enough for a 
frost, but none fell last night. Took a stroll 
after dinner among the woods, and observed the 
first slight changes in the foliage of the trees, 
which generally do not wait the frost’s coming. 
I have frequently noticed that a bright day and a 
high, cold wind succeeding a heavy fall of rain, 
late in September, almost invariably affected the 
leaves of trees. Some of these are now turn¬ 
ing to a greenish-yellow, others are assuming 
a rusty brown or a dull crimson, while the 
“ gadding vine,” or creepers, as we country 
people call them, that climb up and festoon the 
trunks and limbs of various trees, have become 
a bright scarlet. How beautifully the deep crim¬ 
son cones of the sumac wave in the wind! I 
declare I think them far more picturesque, scat¬ 
tered along the fences, or waving over some 
waste place, than the costly dahlias of the same 
color on our lawn. What a pity it does not 
come from abroad, with a long Latin name at¬ 
tached to it! gentlemen would then more fre¬ 
quently plant it in their pleasure-grounds. 
There is another native tree almost completely 
overlooked, and that is the dog-wood. How 
pretty its snowy blossoms, with a pink heart, in 
the spring; and then its scarlet berries now 
fringing the ends of its branches, peeping out 
amid their green leaves! 
Friday, 80th. —Before the day was over, 
found several of my dishes were lacking. On 
questioning Biddy as to their whereabouts, she 
replied: 
“ Oh, Marm, and hiven’t they gone in paces 
to the yard ?” 
“And what should send them broken there, 
pray.” 
“ Faix, now, and warn’t the wind high and 
the thunder loud o’ Tuesday night; and didn’t 
the house shake hard enough to break all the 
dishes in it?” 
And sure enough, come to investigate, I 
found she had carelessly set them up edgeways 
on the dresser to drain, and forgetting to take 
them down to be wiped and then properly put 
away, several of them fell during the night, and 
broke into a hundred pieces. But of all things, 
lamp-scissors and snuffers take the lead, and 
follow off one after another in a way that 
threatens ruin to my purse, and a rise in cut¬ 
lery. I declare I believe, like many supersti¬ 
tious people, I shall have to set down Friday as 
an unlucky day. No, it was Tuesday the dishes 
were broke; but not till Friday that I found it 
out. “ Bad luck to it,” as Biddy says. 
Hardly had I uttered this, when in comes 
Willy with a back-load of wild pigeons he had 
shot. It was his first attempt with a gun. The 
pigeons had been very thick in the fields for 
some time, and hearing of this, his uncle, a 
merchant in the city, sent him a small but very 
good double-barrelled gun, telling him in joke 
that he was hankering after some pigeon-pie for 
dinner. Well, he will get enough of this now; 
for the boy proves a good shot, and he at least 
has had a lucky day of it, even if it is Friday. 
Saturday, October 1st. —Baking-day, and a 
hard one I shall have of it. Dough not well 
risen, and the cooking-stove will spoil the bread, 
I fear. I declare I have a great mind to abolish 
it, and take to the old-fashioned fire-place and 
brick oven again. It is true these require more 
fuel; but what of this, when we have more 
wood growing than we know what to do with ? 
I half doubt the economy of the stove. Besides, 
its heat in warm weather is overpowering, and 
in cold weather, with the doors shut, the atmo¬ 
sphere almost stifles one; and the fumes rising 
from the cooked dishes get all over the house in 
spite of me. In a fire-place all these disagree¬ 
ables go up the chimney; and yet it throws 
out a ruddy, grateful heat when wanted. I’ll 
get my husband to consent that this and the 
brick oven come back again; for I am sure my 
health suffers over the stove, and there certainly 
can be no economy in losing that. 
My husband brought down a load of potatoes 
he had been digging, and in the evening, sitting 
down and chatting, he complained of the rot- 
thought he would lose at least one fifth of his 
crop. 
“Now, father,” says Willy, “all that comes 
from not taking the advice of the Agricultu¬ 
rist." 
“What was that, pray?” 
“Why, simply putting a half pint of slacked 
lime over the seed when planted, as the editor 
has often recommended for several years past.” 
“Well, I declare I forgot that; I meant to 
try it; I’ll not forget another year; it is a sim¬ 
ple remedy, and will do the potatoes no harm; 
and if no good comes, the lime will benefit the 
land, especially when the clay soil is rather 
stiff. 
“Yes, and the sandy loam too,” added 
Willy. 
“Ijnever beard *b«f before, and don’t believe 
it.” 
Here Willy replied, and, as usual, brought out 
his books to substantiate his opinions. As I 
took little interest in the discussion, I turned to 
our religious papers, of which we take two, and 
I always make it a point to look them over on 
Saturday evenings, they seem so well made up 
to usher in the Sabbath. What a choice selec¬ 
tion of reading one finds in them, and how they 
expand and vivify the heart! 
Nine o’clock, and the gentlemen, if I may so 
call my strong, common-sense husband, and my 
bookish boy, Willy, have finished their discus¬ 
sion, by the former winding up with a “Well, 
well, your Professor, as you call him, may be 
right, after all; and to prove him, we’ll lime an 
acre or r two of that light sandy loam another 
year, as an experiment; it won’t cost much, any 
how.” 
Baked Apples. —The person who has eaten 
baked sweet apples with milk, needs no com¬ 
mendation of the article. But those who have 
tart apples only, may secure a delicious dish by 
the following process: Pare them, if thick- 
skinned, cut out the largest portion of the core 
from one end, and place the fruit on well-glazed 
earthen dishes or pans, with the cored end up¬ 
wards, and the cavity filled with refined pow¬ 
dered sugar. Then bake them. 
Apple Sago. —One coffee-cup of sago, one 
quart of boiling water poured upon it, season 
with milk, lemon and sugar. Pare and core as 
many apples as will stand in your dish, pour the 
sago Over them, and bake one hour. Serve with 
sugar and cream. 
Minota Pudding. —A baker’s loaf sliced, the 
crust taken off, laid upon a flat dish, and a cus¬ 
tard poured over, as much as the bread will ab¬ 
sorb ; let it stand half an hour, then fry it.. 
Bird’s-Nest Pudding. —Pare and core eight 
large apples, eight eggs, eight spoonfuls of flour, 
one quart of milk ; place the apples in the dish, 
and pour the batter over them, and bake one 
hour. 
Indian Meal Short-Cakes. —Stir into a pint 
of sweet milk three well-beaten eggs, add a lit¬ 
tle salt and a half cup of butter, with sifted In¬ 
dian meal to make a thick batter; drop it from 
a large spoon upon buttered tins. Bake them 
in a quick oven. When they are a little browned, 
they are done. Send them to the table hot, and 
cat with butter. 
Pine-apple Jelly. —Pare and grate the pine¬ 
apple, and put into the preserving pan, with 
one pound of white sugar to every pound of 
fruit. Stir it and boil it until it is well mixed, 
and thickens sufficiently; then strain it and pour 
it into the jars, and when it has become cool, 
cover the jellies with papers wet in brandy; 
cover the jars tightly, and treat them as apple 
jelly- 
Currant Cakes. —A quarter of a pound of 
flour, two ounces of currants, six ounces of su¬ 
gar, two eggs, milk enough to form a dough. 
Rub the butter, sugar and flour together with 
the fruit, which must have been washed, picked 
and dried. 
Buckwheat Cakes. —The griddle on which 
cakes are baked should never be touched with 
grease—Firstly, because it imparts a rancid 
taste to the cake. Secondly, if a cooking stove 
be used, it fills the whole house with the smell 
of burnt grease—betraying what we are to have 
for breakfast. Wash the griddle with hot soap¬ 
suds, scour it with dry sand, and when heated 
for use, rub it well with a spoonful of fine salt 
and a coarse cloth ; it will then be ready to re¬ 
ceive the cakes. After each cake is removed, the 
salt rubbing must be repeated. Try it, and you 
will ever after follow the advice of an old house¬ 
keeper. 
Carragan Moss. —Wash and pick a table¬ 
spoonful of Irish moss, and put it into a tin cup; 
pour on it half a pint of boiling water, and set 
it on a stove or coals for a short time; when it 
is all dissolved, add sugar and nutmeg to taste. 
This may be made with milk to resemble cus- 
IctlCI, o-nOlo xivuxlolihig auU acllttUC. 
Delicate infants may be fed on it when they will 
take no other nourishment. 
Ruta Baga Pudding. —One and a half pints 
of pulped ruta bagas, two spoonfuls of wheat 
flour, four eggs, half a pint of milk, and one ta¬ 
blespoonful of butter. The pan greased and 
floured, and baked with a quick fire.— Prairie 
Farmer. 
“Father,” said little Teddy, “ how can the 
sea run when it is all tide ?” 
Knowledge is not wisdom. A person may 
know, and yet have no claim to be called wise. 
Wisdom is the practical application of know¬ 
ledge. 
An intelligent printer being asked if a certain 
man was crazy, said, “ No, the word implies 
that a person has lost his senses. The individual 
spoken of never had any.” 
