AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
375 
daughter was a slender, pale-looking- girl, and 
wore calico frocks, and calico aprons, and mo¬ 
rocco shoes; and she laughed at me because all 
my things were “ home-made.” I did not know 
then what I do now, that they cost five times as 
much as hers, and the only reason she did not 
have some like them was, that her father could 
not afford it. 
“I wish my father were not a farmer,” said 
I one day to the English lady who was fitting a 
red woolen frock to my little Dutch figure. 
“ Why ?” said she. “ Oh, then I should not 
have to wear these homely dresses; and if he 
were only a merchant, we could have a great 
deal prettier things.” Never shall I forget the 
lecture I received for such a foolish wish, and 
for such foolish notions, which she wondered 
should have found entrance into my little head. 
Ever after she took particular pains to give me 
right views upon the dignity of land-owners; and 
though I now think she unjustly disparaged 
those of other professions, all of which are hon¬ 
orable if rightly pursued, I wish her English 
views of farming and farmers were more exten¬ 
sively American, and rejoice that they are be¬ 
coming so. 
It is said, and with much truth I am obliged 
to confess, that there is not among farmers so 
high an appreciation of the beautiful as there 
should be; and there is not sufficient attention 
paid to the adorning of the mind and polishing 
of the manners; and this is also true of many 
other classes. I have never yet found any that 
have arrived at perfection; and had much rather 
have a warm heart and pure mind in a rough 
casket, than a corrupt mind and a false heart in 
an elegant shrine. 
But I believe it quite possible—for I have 
seen it in more instances than I could number— 
that those who devote themselves to agricultural 
and rural pursuits may be as highly educated 
and refined and cultivated as those who write 
“ briefs” and measure lace, and if they cannot 
and do not excel, in these points, many of those 
who meet to attend to the interests of the nation 
or represent us in the courts of foreign princes, 
well may we blush for their degeneracy. 
There are many people in whose minds re¬ 
finement and a polished exterior*are indissolubly 
connected. It is true that where the feelings 
are refined the manners will be .sufficiently so; 
but both may exist in one who is utterly desti¬ 
tute of what is termed polish! Yet it is also 
true that polish is desirable, and none too assid¬ 
uously .ultivated by any class of people. Still 
I think I can prove that it is not alone neglected 
by those who cultivate the soil. 
-•- 
CHILDREN IN 1854. 
I went with a friend the other day, to look at 
some “ rooms to let.” She liked the rooms, and 
the man who owned them liked she should have 
them; but when she mentioned she had chil¬ 
dren—he stepped six paces off—set his teeth 
together—pulled his waistcoat down with a 
jerk and said—“Never—take— Children ,— 
Ma’am!” 
Now I’d like to know if that man was lorn 
grown up ? 
I’d like to know if children are to have their 
necks wrung like so many chickens, if they hap¬ 
pen to '■'•peep ?” 
I’d like to know if they havn’t just as much 
right in the world as grown folks? 
I’d like to know if boarding-house keepers, 
(after children have been in a close sehool-room 
for five or six hours feeding on verbs and pro¬ 
nouns,) are to put them off with a “ second 
table,” leaving them to stand in the entries, 
smelling the dinner, while grown people, (who 
have lunched at oyster-shops and confectioner’s 
saloons) sit two or three hours longer than is 
necessary, at dessert, cracking their nuts and 
their jokes ? 
I’d like to know if they have a quarter given 
them to spend, they must always receive a bad 
shilling of it at the stores as “ change ?” 
I’d like to know if people in omnibuses are 
at liberty to catch them by the coat collar, lift 
them out of a nice seat, take it themselves, and 
perch them on their sharp knee-joints, to jolt 
over the pavements? 
I have a mind to pick up all the children and 
form a colony on some bright island, where 
those people who were made up in a hurry, 
without hearts, couldn’t find us, or if they did, 
we would say to them when they tried to come 
ashore— Never take grown-up folks here ! Or 
we’d treat them to a “ second dinner,”—bill of 
fare—cold potatoes, bad cooking butter, bread 
full of saleratus, bones without any meat on 
them, watery soups, and curdled milk—(that is 
to say, after we had picked our nuts long enough 
to suit us at dessert!) How do you suppose 
they’d like to change places with the “ children” 
that way ? 
Now here’s Aunt Fanny’s creed, and you may 
read it to your mother if you like. 
I believe in great round apples and big slices 
of gingerbread for children. 
I believe in making their clothes loose enough 
to enable them to eat it all, and jump around in 
when they are through. 
I believe in not giving away their little pro¬ 
perty, such as, dolls, kites,.balls, hoops, and the 
like, without their leave. 
I believe in not promising them a ride, and 
then forgetting all about it. 
I believe in not teasing them for amusement, 
and then punishing them for being “ trouble- 
_51 
I believe in not allowing Bridget and Betty to 
box their ears because the pot boils over, or 
because their beaux didn’t come the evening 
before. 
I believe in sending them to school where 
there are backs to the benches, and where the 
school ma’am has had at least one offer. 
I believe no house can be properly furnished 
without at least a dozen children in it. 
I believe little children to be all that is left 
us of Paradise; and I believe that any house¬ 
keeper harboring any person who “don’t like 
them,” had better count up her silver without 
loss of time.— Little Ferns for Fanny's little 
friends. 
Anecdotes of Fra Rocco. —Murray’s Hand- 
Book for South Italy contains some curious 
stories respecting Fra Rocco, the celebrated 
Dominican preacher, and the spiritual Joe Mil¬ 
ler of Naples. On one occasion, it is related, 
he preached on the mole a penitential sermon, 
and introduced so many illustrations of terror 
that he soon brought his hearers to their knees. 
While they were thus showing every sign of 
contrition, he cried out, “ Now all of you who 
sincerely repent of your sins, hold up your 
hands.” Every man in the vast multitude im¬ 
mediately-stretched out both his hands. “ Holy 
Archangel Michael!” exclaimed Rocco, “thou 
who with thine adamantine sword standest at 
the right of the judgment-seat of God, hew me 
off every hand which has been raised hypocri¬ 
tically.” In an instant every hand dropped, 
and Rocco, of course, poured forth a fresh tor¬ 
rent of eloquent invective against their sins and 
their deceit. 
He had a great dislike to tobacco, and when 
once preaching to a crowd of Spanish sailors, 
he astonished them by telling them that there 
were no Spanish saints in heaven. A few, he 
said, had been admitted, but they smoked so 
many cigars that they made the holy Virgin 
sick, and St. Peter set his wits to work to get 
them out. At length he proclaimed that a bull 
fight was to be held outside the gate of Para¬ 
dise. Thereupon every Spanish saint, without 
exception, ran off to see the fight, and St. Peter 
immediately closed the gate, and took care 
never to admit another Spaniard. 
Incurable. — A good story is told in an 
Eastern paper, of the treatment of a drunken 
husband by his amiable spouse. After trying 
various experiments, all to cure drunkenness, 
she thought of another plan of making a re¬ 
formed drunkard of her lord : 
She engaged a watchman for a stipulated re¬ 
ward, to carry Philander to the watch-house 
while yet in a state of insensibility, and to 
frighten him a little when he recovered. In 
consequence of this arrangement, Philander 
waked up about eleven o’clock at "night, and 
found himself lying on a pine bench in a 
strange and dim apartment. Raising himself 
upon his elbow, he looked around until his eyes 
rested on a man seated by a stove smoking a 
cigar. 
“ Where am I ?” said Philander. 
“ In a medical college,” said the cigar smo¬ 
ker. 
“ What a doing there ?” 
“ Going to be cut up !” 
“ How comes that?” 
“ Why you died yesterday, while you were 
drunk, and we bought your body to make a’nat- 
omy.” 
“ It’s a lie—I’m not dead.” 
“ No matter—we bought your carcase from 
your wife, who had a right to sell it, for it’s all 
thb good she could make of you. If you’re not 
dead, that’s no fault of the doctors and they’ll 
cut you up, dead or alive.” 
“ You will do it, eh ?” asked the old sot. 
“ Ay, to be sure we will, now directly,” was 
the resolute answer. 
“Well, can’t you let us have something to 
drink before you begin ?” 
PtnTander was"a^tiAh & 
ward was contingent on his successful treat¬ 
ment of the patient, he was not a little chag¬ 
rined at the result; so, with no gentle handling, 
he tumbled the irreformable inebriate out of the 
watch-house. _ 
Great Bravery.— “ Well, Pat, my good fel¬ 
low,” said a victorious general to a brave son 
of Erin, after a battle, “and what did you do 
to help us gain this victory ?” “Do !” replied 
Pat, “ may it please yer honor, I walked up 
bou’ldly to wun of the inimy, and cut off his 
fut.” “ Cut off his foot! and why did you not 
cut off his head!” asked the general. “Ah, an’ 
faith, that was off already,” says Pat. 
Very True.— Lacon says, “There are two 
modes of establishing our reputation ; to be 
praised by honest men, and to be abused by 
rogues! It is best, however,” he says, “to se¬ 
cure the former, because it will unavoidably be 
accompanied by the latter. His calumniation is 
not only the greatest benefit a rogue can confer 
upon us, but it is also, the only service he will 
perform for nothing. 
Room Enough— A friend once visiting an 
unworldly philosopher, whose mind was his 
kingdom, expressed his surprise at the small- 
ness of his apartment: “ Why, you have not 
room here to swing a cat!” “ My friend, was 
the serene, unappreciative answer, “ I do not 
want to swing a cat.” 
-•••- 
An orator holding forth in favor of woman 
dear, divine woman—concludes thus : 
“ Oh, my hearers, depend upon it, nothing 
beats a good wife!” 
“ I beg your pardon,” replied one of the au¬ 
dience, “ a bad husband does.” 
Maids want but husbands, and then want 
every thing. 
