86 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
petitioned against it; they couldn’t sleep with 
so much light in the night time. Finally we 
had to station electric telegraphs along the road, 
with signal men to telegraph when the train was 
in sight; and I have heard that some of the fast 
trains beat the lightning fifteen minutes every 
forty miles. But I can’t say as that is true — 
the rest I know to be so." 
SONG FOR THINKERS. 
BY CHARLES SWAIN. 
Take the Spade of Perseverance, 
Dig the field of Progress wide ; 
Every rotten root of faction 
Hurry cut, and cast aside; 
Every stubborn weed of Error, 
Every seed that hurts the soil; 
Tares whose very growth is terror— 
Dig them out, whate’er the toil! 
Give the stream of Education 
Broader channel, bolder force ; 
Hurl the stoues of persecution 
Out, where’er they block its course; 
Seek for strength iu self-exertion ; 
Work, and still have faith to wait; 
Close the crook to fortune; 
Make the road to honor straight. 
Men are agents for the future! 
As they work, so ages win 
Either harvest of advancement, 
Or the product of their sin! 
Follow out true Cultivation, 
Widen Education’s plan; 
From the Majesty of Nature 
Teach the Majesty of Man 1 
Take the Spade of Perseverance ; 
Dig the field of progress wide. 
Every bar to true Instruction 
Carry out and east aside; 
Feed the Plant whose Fruit is Wisdom; 
Cleanse from crime the common sod; 
So that from the Throne of Heaven 
It may bear the glance of God. 
. THE FARMER’S CHOICE; 
OR. RURAL FELICITY AND INDEPENDENCE. 
"A little house, well fill’d; 
A little wife, well will’d ; 
A little iand, well till’d.” 
"Give me a snug little farm, with sufficient learniug; a 
cheerful wife, that can milk the cow and rock the cradle ; that 
can sleep all night and work all day ; that can discourse mu¬ 
sic on the spinning-wheel; and that can cook, wash, and tend 
the poultry and the dairy, instead of dressing at the toilet, or 
playing on the piano. The present times are too unnatural, 
fashionable, and luxurious.” 
Our ancestors lived on bread and broth, 
And wooed their healthy wives in home-spun cloth; 
Our mothers, nurtured to the nodding reel. 
Gave all their daughters lessons on the wheel; 
Though spinning did not much reduce the waist. 
It made their food much sweeter to the taste! 
They plied, with honest zeal, the mop and broom. 
And drove the shuttle through the noisy loom. 
They never once complained, as we do now— 
" We have no girls to cook or milk the cow 
Each mother taught her red-cheek’d son and daughter 
To bake and brew, and draw a pail of water ; 
No damsel shunn’d the wash-tub, broom or pail, 
To keep unsoil'd a long-grown finger-nail. 
They sought no gaudy dress, no wasp-like form. 
But ate to live, and work’d to keep them warm ; 
No idle youth—no tight-laced mincing fair. 
Became a living corpse for want of air; 
No fidgets, faintings, fits, or frighful blues; 
No painful corns from wearing Chinese shoes. 
-» « s- 
To Bring tiie Drowned to Life. —Intended 
to h/>. put. in every man's hat .—Immediately as 
the body is removed from the water press the 
chest suddenly and forcibly downward and 
backward, and instantly discontinue the pressure. 
Repeat this violent interruption until a pair of 
common bellows can be procured. When ob¬ 
tained, introduce the muzzle well upon the base 
of the tongue. Surround the mouth with a 
towel or handkerchief, and close it. Direct a 
bystander to press firmly upon the projecting 
part of the neck, (called Adam’s apple,) and use 
the bellows actively. Then press upon the chest 
to expel the air from the lungs, to imitate natural 
breathing. Continue this at least an hour, unless 
signs of natural breathing come on. 
Wrap the body in blankets, place it near a 
fire, and do everything to preserve the natural 
warmth as well as to impart an artificial heat if 
possible. Every thing, however, is secondary 
to inflating the lungs. Send for a medical man 
immediately. 
Avoid all frictions until respiration shall be in 
some degree restored. Valentine Mott, 
Surg. Gen., of the American Ship-wreck So¬ 
ciety. 
FLOWERS IN A SICK ROOM 
Among the terrors of our youth we well re¬ 
member there were certain poisonous exhalations 
said to arise from plants and flowers, if allowed 
to share our sleeping-room during the night, as 
though objects of lovliness when seen by day¬ 
light, took advantage of the darkness to assume 
the qualities of the ghoul or the vampire. Well 
do we remember how maternal anxiety removed 
every portion of vegetable life from our bed¬ 
room, lest its gases should poison us before 
morning! This opinion, and the cognate one 
that plants in rooms are always injurious, is pre¬ 
valent still, and it operates most unfavorably in 
the case of the bed-ridden, or the invalid, by 
depriving them of a chamber-garden, which 
would otherwise make time put off its leaden 
wings, and while away, in innocent amusement, 
many a lagging hour. Now, we assure our 
readers that this is a popular superstition, and 
will endeavor to put them in possession of the 
grounds on which our statement is founded. In 
doing so, we do not put forth any opinions oi 
our own, but the deductions of science, for the 
truth of which any one at all acquainted with 
vegetable physiology can vouch. 
Plants, in a growing state, absorb the oxygen 
gas of the atmosphere, and throw off carbonic 
acid. These are facts; and as oxygen is neces¬ 
sary to life, and carbonic acid injurious to it, the 
conclusion as been jumped at, that plants in 
apartments must have a deleterious influence. 
But there is another fact equally irrefragible, 
that plants feed on the carbonic acid of the at¬ 
mosphere , and are indeed the general instru¬ 
ments employed in the laboratory of nature for 
purifying it from the noxious exhalations of ani¬ 
mal life. From the spacious forests to the blade 
of grass, which forces itself up through crevices 
of a street pavement, every portion of verdure 
is occupied in disinfecting the air. By means of 
solar light, the carbonic acid, when taken in by 
the leaves, is decomposed—its carbon going to 
build up the structure of the plant, and its dig- 
engaged oxygen returning to the air we breathe. 
It is true that this process is stopped in the 
darkness, and that then a very small portion of 
carbonic acid is evolved by plants; but as it is 
never necessary for a patient to sleep in a room 
with flowers, we need say nothing on that 
subject. Cleanliness, and other considerations, 
would suggest having a bed-room as free as pos¬ 
sible during the night, and our object is answer¬ 
ed if we show that vegetation is not injurious 
in the day; that it is, on the contrary, conducive 
to health, is a plain corollary of science. 
Perhaps the error we are speaking of may have 
originated from confounding the effects of the 
odors of plants, with a general result of their 
presence. Now, all strong scents are injurious, 
and those of some flowers are especially so, and 
ought on no account to be patronized by the 
invalid. But it happens, fortunately, that a very 
large class of plants have either no scent at all, 
or so little as to be of no consequence, so that 
there is still room for an extensive collection. 
This, then, is one rule to be observed in chamber 
gardening. Another is, that the plants admitted 
should be in perfect health, for while growing- 
vegetation is healthful, it becomes noxious 
when sickly or dead. Thirdly, let the most 
scrupulous cleanliness be maintained; the pots, 
saucers, and the stands being often subjected 
to ablutions. Under this head, also, we include 
-the removal of dying leaves, and all flowers, be¬ 
fore they have quite lost their beauty, since it is 
well known that the petals become unpleasant 
in some varieties as soon as the meridian of their 
brief life is passed. By giving attention to these 
simple regulations, a sick chamber may have its 
windows adorned with flowers without the 
slightest risk to the health of the occupant; and 
in saying this we open the way to some of the 
most gentle lenitives of pain, as well as to the 
sources of rational enjoyment. If those who 
can go where they please, in the sunshine and 
the shade, can gather wild flowers in their natu¬ 
ral dwellings, and cultivate extensive gardens, 
still find pleasure in a few favorites in-doors, 
how much more delight must such treasured 
possessions confer on those whom Providence 
lias made prisoners, and who must have their all 
of verdure and floral beauty brought to them!— 
Exchange paper. 
Morns’ Bailment. 
JOURNAL OF A FARMER’S WIFE. 
Monday , October 10th .—Still mild and sunny 
with us, and little frost as yet, though we hear 
of snow having fallen from one to six inches 
deep two or three hundred miles to the north. 
I can hardly realize this so early in the autumn. 
The change in the foliage of the shrubs and 
tree 3 is quite apparent now, especially up the 
precipitous sides, and on the tops of the high 
rocky hills to the west of our residence. Their 
rough craggy tops seem to have softened down 
all at once, and appear like large tulip mounds, 
blooming with the most gorgeous dyes. How 
beautiful autumn is. I look upon its varied 
scenery every year with the same extatic delight 
now, as I did in my earliest childhood. 
Tuesday 1 1th .—Went into the kitchen early 
this morning, and found Cousin Clara there 
before me, intent on mixing up a dish to which 
I was a perfect stranger. It seems she had 
seized upon two large sweet potatoes we had left 
over for dinner, yesterday. These she mashed 
fine, then added a piece of fresh-made butter 
the size of a common hen’s egg, a little salt, a 
pint of sweet milk, a tea-cup full of sugar, two 
eggs, a teaspoonful of saleratus dissolved in 
water, and lastly, spice to suit the taste. She 
then poured the batter into a deep earthern dish, 
and set it away to be baked in the afternoon. 
Hearing a terrible cackling among the poultry 
in a field adjoining their yard, I ran out to see 
what was the matter. A large hawk had alighted 
upon a fine young rooster, aud was about to car¬ 
ry him off, when our old terrier came to the res¬ 
cue. She jumped upon his back before he could 
rise with his prey, and with a single grip upon 
the neck broke it short off, as she would that of 
a rat—killing him instantly. The hawk was a 
bold fellow certainly, to make such an attack so 
near the house, and must have been very hungry; 
he has paid dearly for his temerity. I wish we 
lived a little nearer the sea-shore, where there 
is a law to preserve fish-liawks, on account of 
their driving off the hen-hawks. It is only oc¬ 
casionally that the former find their way up our 
little river, following the tide in pursuit of the 
incoming fish; and then they are frequently 
shot by the worthless sportsmen who infest our 
neighborhood. I wish there was some law 
against these prowling, idle fellows, and the use 
of their guns. 
At tea the Sweet Potato Pone , as Cousin Clara 
calls her new pudding, made its appearance in 
the same dish in which it was baked. It was of 
a light brown color, very much like Indian pud¬ 
ding, only more luscious in appearance. Clara 
insisted on serving it out, which she did iu 
