AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
815 
At present, however, the economy is all on the 
one side—the old plan. Wc havo seen corn, 
carrots, beets and many- other vegetables dried 
by steam. The only proper way to dry hay by 
steam, would be to use it (the steam) at high 
pressure upon the hay, which should be confined 
in a close vessel, such as a large tight wooden 
vat having a safety valve and provided with a 
false bottom. The hay could be piled in at the 
top of this vat, then allowed to drop out at the 
bottom when fully steamed. But to cure one 
ton of hay would require a vessel of about 1000 
cubic feet capacity. On a very large dairy farm 
where a steam engine is employed, and a large 
boiler is used—fuel being cheap—it might an¬ 
swer to erect such a vessel and thus employ steam 
for curing the hay. 
On the other hand, some would prefer to em¬ 
ploy a current of hot air, driving it through the 
hay by a blower, in place of the steam; this 
plan could be used on any farm, with a horse 
power to drive the blower—no steam boiler 
would be required, only a furnace with air tubes 
passing through it. Neither of these plans, 
however, can be employed economically by our 
farmers in general; but the subject should not 
be overlooked by then; it will bear both inves¬ 
tigation and experiment. We know that very 
many of our farmers lose a great deal of hay 
every year by imperfect curing; it heats in the 
mow and much of the very parts which contri¬ 
bute to sustain animal heat, passes off in a state 
of gas. Were we conducting a farm in extent 
from eighty acres and upwards, we would cer¬ 
tainly employ a strong and simple steam engine 
of from six to ten horse power and would be 
sure to use a strong boiler of the most approved 
construction. In all parts of our country where 
coal is used by our agriculturists for fuel, a 
steam engine is easily worked, but by using 
wood for fuel, it is somewhat troublesome to 
feed the furnaces. A steam engine can be used 
to do all the churning, threshing, washing, saw¬ 
ing, shelling corn, grinding the flour and many 
other things beside. Indeed, we may yet see, 
one or two power looms in every farmer’s house, 
for weaving all the plain cloth required by the 
family ; they might also be very profitably em¬ 
ployed for weaving blankets, for which there is 
a large market open, in all our large cities.— 
Scientific American. 
IGE STACKS. 
In many localities where ice cannot be con¬ 
veniently procured for storage for summer, 
other modes must be resorted to, and residing 
in such a part of tho country, I therefore had 
recourse to the following expedient: Having a 
good fall of snow about the end of January 
last, I selected a cool, shaded spot for the erec¬ 
tion of a circular snow stack, and taking advan¬ 
tage of this fall, (about 6 inches in depth,) I had 
12 men and 3 horses set to work, in carting, 
rolling, and building the stack, making it about 
30 feet in diameter, having it watered and firmly 
trodden under foot; the former is necessary 
when the weather is frosty, to insure the firm- 
treading (a great essential) being properly done. 
Thus, at the end of three days we had erected 
an artificial mound, about 18 feet in height. I 
then had a strong wooden frame put round it, 
about 2 feet distant from the stack, well packing 
betwixt the snow and frame with straw, and re¬ 
gularly thatching the whole with one foot of the 
same material; finishing by making a ditch out¬ 
side the frame, in order to carry off water or 
melted snow. A small door, thatched the same 
as the frame is required for ingress; of course 
this frame, will answer for many years without 
being removed. Many may be surprised at the 
size of my stack, but allowances must be made 
for waste, (nearly one-half,) and yet I may re¬ 
mark that part of the stack described above 
still remains, and always will until the expiry of 
one year from the time of its erection.— A. B. 
A., in Gardeners' Chronicle. 
Turkey’s Real DANGer,—Christmas-time. 
Bee Stings. —The sting of a bee consists of 
an extensilo sheath, enclosing two fine needle- 
shaped darts. Theso darts are distinctly se¬ 
parate from each other; and though so close 
together as to appear like one to the naked eye, 
are capable of acting independently of each 
other. They are each provided with ten minute 
teeth near the extremity, like those of a saw, 
so that when they are plunged into any tough 
substance the bee can seldom withdraw them, 
and consequently both darts and sheath are 
wrenched from his body, and the mutilation 
causes the speedy death of tho unfortunate in¬ 
sect. When the bee is prepared to sting, he 
first plunges one of the darts, having the point 
a little in advance of the other, into the skin, 
until the foremost barb catches , and then repeats 
the process with the other; he thus pushes them 
alternately deeper and deeper, until they are 
firmly imbedded in the flesh. At the base of 
the sting, ana communicating with the tube of 
the sheath, is a little bag, or bladder, filled with 
a transparent poisonous fluid. The contraction 
of this bag, which is produced by means of a 
strong muscle connected with it, causes the 
poison to flow out of the sheath into the wound. 
The alleged remedies for the wounds inflicted 
by this wonderful weapon are countless and va¬ 
rious. Colton says that the sting should be 
completely pulled out, as it is barbed like a 
fish hook, and would otherwise work deeper 
into the flesh. “Then squeeze the poison out 
with the tube of a small key, and put a little 
honey on the place to keep the air away.” But 
Sydserff, a bee-taker at Leigh, in an old treatise 
on bees, describes the most singular remedy 
which has come to our notice, and one which we 
cannot conscientiously recommend our readers 
to try. He s£ys that more than thirty years ex¬ 
perience in his calling has led him to the con¬ 
clusion that “ the sting of one bee serves to 
mollify, prevent the swelling, and, in effect cure 
the sting of another.” He relates that his little 
brother was once stung by bees to such an ex¬ 
tent that he—-Sydserff—pulled several stings 
from his tongue, and thirteen from one of his 
ears. The boy did not subsequently suffer at 
all from the effects of the wounds. Sydserff 
further says that if he is stung by two bees, the 
swelling is not so great as arises from the sting 
of one bee. If stung by ten bees, the swelling 
is very little, or there is none at all. On one 
occasion, while suffering from one set of stings, 
a new set was inflicted, and to his great aston¬ 
ishment all pain was instantly removed, and the 
swelling passed off. Three days after this he 
was again very much stung, but these had no 
effect whatever upon him , and he only felt them 
when they first pricked. He recommends, de¬ 
cidedly, as the best remedy for a wound, that 
another bee be immediately persuaded to sting- 
near the same place! We presume the homoe- 
pathists would claim this remedy as pertaining 
to their practice.— Boston Weekly Journal. 
-♦ * ♦- 
Personality an Awful Gift.— The short 
verse—“Every man,shall bear his own burden,” 
opens to our consideration one of the deepest 
principles of our being. It singles us out from 
all the multitude around us. It sets us alone 
with our own spiritual and moral character, as 
we have fashioned it, and reminds us that we 
must bear for ourselves that burden. It bids us 
remember that great truth which the world is 
ever seeking to hide from us, that we are each 
of us One ; that we have that in us which does 
truly separate us from every other beside ; that 
we are in reality alone. There is something very 
awful in this truth, in whatever light we look at 
it. Though this is, indeed, our greatness— 
though it is in this in great measure, that our 
likeness to God consists, yet it is an awful 
thought. Our very greatness is appalling to 
us—but we cannot shake it off. We may, in¬ 
deed, strive, in our shrinking weakness, to break 
in upon the stillness of our solitary being by 
crowding others around us, but we cannot. We 
may forget our loneliness for a season in the 
whirl of pleasure, or the fever of excitement, or 
the warm gushes of a loving sympathy; but in 
all the pauses of outward things, tho solemn 
voice comes back again upon our ears; the mul¬ 
titude of shadows fade into nothingness; and 
the great vision of our single, proper, solitary 
being, again overshadows our spirits. We have 
each one this burden of a separate soul, and we 
must bear it. Even ordinary life utters voices 
which add their witness to this truth, if we will 
listen for them. How do all deep-thinking 
people, in the inmost current of their spirits, 
live apart from others, and, more or less, even 
feel that they do so .—Bishop of Oxford. 
Genius, Talent, Cleverness. —Genius rushes 
like a whirlwind; talent marches like a caval¬ 
cade of heavy men and horses; cleverness skims 
like a swallow in a summer evening, with a sharp, 
shrill note, and a sudden turning. The man of 
genius dwells with men and with nature; the 
man of talent in his study ; but the clever man 
dances here, there, and every where, like a but¬ 
terfly in a hurricane striking every thing, and 
enjoying nothing, but too light to be dashed to 
pieces. The man of talent will attack theories; 
the clever man assails the individual, and slan¬ 
ders private character. But the man of genius 
despises both; he heeds none, he fears none, he 
lives in himself, shrouded in the consciousness 
of his own strength—he interferes with none, 
and walks forth an example ; “ eagles fly alone, 
they are sheep that herd together.” It is true, 
that should a poisonous worm cross his path, he 
may tread it under his foot; should a cur snarl 
at him, he may chastise it; but he will not, can¬ 
not attack the privacy of another. Clever man 
write verses , men of talent write prose , but the 
man of genius writes poetry.—Lectures on 
Poetry. 
-- 
Death of Mu. SnREVE. — Mr. Prentice, of 
the Louisville Journal, thus touchingly alludes 
to the death of his associate, Mr. Shreve : 
We, the surviving editor of the Journal, feel 
that the prime of life is scarcely yet gone, yet, 
as we look back upon our long career in this 
city, we seem to behold, near and far, only the 
graves of the prized and lost. All the numer¬ 
ous journeymen and apprentices, that were in 
our employ when we first commenced publish- 
iug our paper, are dead ; our first partner, our 
second partner, and our third partner are dead, 
our first assistant and our last assistant are 
also dead. When these memories come over 
us, wc feel like one alone at midnight, in the 
midst of a church-yard, with the winds sighing 
mournfully around him through the broken 
tombs, and the voices of the ghosts of departed 
joys sounding dolefully in his ears. Our prayer 
to God is that such memories may have a 
chastening, and purifying, and elevating influ¬ 
ence upon us, and fit us to discharge, better 
than we have ever yet done, our duties to earth 
and to heaven. 
-♦ © ♦ - 
They are Passing Away. — -The number of 
soldiers engaged in the War of the Revolution 
was 231,791. Of this number there are less 
than fourteen hundred now living, whose ages 
must average nearly ninety years. Seventy-two 
have died tlie past year—and should this mortal¬ 
ity continue, with the natural increase as they 
advance in years, but a short period will elapse, 
when these venerable octogenarians will be 
knowm to us only in history. —Albany Trans¬ 
cript. 
-- 
Stitches in a Coat.— There are, according to 
a statement made by a tailor in Boston, 25,243 
stitches in a coat, viz., basting, 782 ; in the edge 
of the coat, 4,590; felling the edges, faces, &c., 
7,414; out of sight, in the pockets, &c., 1,982; 
in the collar alone, 3,056 ; seams, 5,359 ; holes, 
1,450. The coat was made in two days, journey¬ 
man’s hours. 
What’s in a Name ?— More than some people 
think. Don’t open a sausage-shop in Cateaton 
Street. 
