56 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
No. 145. 
Uncle Franlt’s Cliat with tHc Boys and 
Girls. 
SOMETHING ABOUT COMPOSITIONS 
Oh dear! I wish that composition was w ritten. I 
don’t know what to say, and if I did, I shouldn’t know 
how to say it. I hate compositions. I wonder why Mrs. 
Steele, is so particular about them. She makes us all 
write, whether we have any brains or not. I wish some¬ 
body would invent a machine for grinding out composi¬ 
tions. I am sure I would give all my spending money 
for six months, to get one that would do up the thing 
handsomely.” 
So said little Anna, a good friend of mine, not many 
evenings since. She said it with some peevishness, 
though I must do her the justice to say that generally she 
is a very good natured girl. 
Now, it would be strange if my readers did not em¬ 
brace a large number, both of boys and girls, who go to 
schools where it is necessary to writG compositions ; and 
though I am not a clairvoyant, and don’t profess to have 
the hope of seeing things a thousand miles off, I dare say, 
that there arc whole regiments of you who dislike com¬ 
positions as much as Anna does ! It was on this account 
that I took it into my head to give you a few hints about 
compositions, in order, if possible, to put you in the way 
of making the planning and building of them somewhat 
easier and pleasanter. 
1. My first hint is, that the writing of compositions is 
one of the most important of all your school exercises ; 
your teachers do well in making this thing prominent in 
your studies. You will see this plainly enough, one of 
these days. 
2. In chosing a subject, don’t take one beyond your 
grasp. Select a theme which you can make yourself 
in some measure, master of. I think that just in this di¬ 
rection there is a very common error, and a very fatal one, 
for, unless I am greatly mistaken, it tends to make a 
wearisome task of the composition, at the same time that 
it robs the composition itself of all its sprightliness, and 
sets it to limping and staggering, like an old blind, worn- 
out horse. 
3. Don’t walk on stilts. They are well enough in their 
way, but in w alking and writing, you had better give them 
a thorough letting alone. Use plain, simple, common, 
every-day language. That is natural, and what is natur¬ 
al is generally best. You are not yet a fully expanded 
Milton, or an Addison, or a Washington Irving, or a 
Hannah More, or a Mrs. Browning, or a Mrs. Stowe. So 
we do not expect you to soar with them in their wonder¬ 
ful flights of genius. Don't use long words. Short ones 
are best. If I tell you a story about a man who lost his 
way among the snows of the Alps, wouldn’t it be better 
to say that he icent up rather than that he ascended the 
slope of the mountain? If I wished to impress it on your 
mind that he was to blame for not taking a guide with 
him, would it not be in bettei taste to say that his neglect 
was wrong, than that it was reprehensible ? I think so; 
and my advice is, that you give the big words a “ wide 
berth,” as the sailors say of dangerous rocks. 
4. Don’t dip very deep into poetry. Serve up that ar¬ 
ticle in small quantities, and only once in a great while 
[if at. all— Ed.]. The fact is, that good prose is w orth 
much more than poor poetry. I know well, that it is not 
uncommon for young people, in most of our schools, to 
tty their hands at this branch of composition ; but I know 
equally well that they are apt to make sorry work of it. 
They spend a great deal of time, and accomplish but lit¬ 
tle. Their lines are hard to write, and hard to read, re¬ 
minding one of the wag’s description of his horse, who 
had but two faults, one that he was hard to catch, and 
the other that he was good for nothing after he was 
caught I wouldn’t cut you off from the pleasure of mak¬ 
ing a stray rhyme now and then, but in your compositions, 
I would decidedly recommend prose. 
5. If it is possible to do so, take a subject that interests 
you. If it interests you deeply, so much the better. 
Those things which you see and hear, every day of your 
life, if you will take a suitable note of them, and have a 
place for them in your mind, and make the most of them, 
will furnish you with a great deal of excellent material. 
Let me illustrate this a little, for I have a case in point 
which is fresh in my mind. I spent last Christmas day at 
the house of a friend, who has a daughter about twelve 
years of age. While I was there, this girl went out into 
the street on some errand. When she came in, her coun¬ 
tenance expressed the greatest possible interest. It was 
evident she had seen or heard something of which her 
mind was full and running over. The story soon came 
out, I doubt whether we could have kept it in, if we had 
tried, which, of course, we had no disposition to do. She 
had seen a man w ith a hand organ—an organ w hich not 
only ground out music, but performed far more wonderful 
feats. Attached to the instrument was a table, with a 
circular railw ay. As soon as the musician commenced 
turning his crank, a door flew open, and a procession 
started out from a place of concealment, which moved 
around in grand style, on the railway. The procession 
proved to be a miniature imitation of the one which the 
New-Yorkers got up last September, in honor of the lay¬ 
ing of the Atlantic Telegraph. There were the military, 
and lots of great men, with the famous Mr. Field , to wind 
up with. I w ish you could have seen and heard that girl, 
while she w as telling her story. She was really eloquent 
I assure you. “ Mary,” said I, after she had finished, 
“ there is a composition for you.” “Good!” said she, 
half crazy with delight, “ so there is. I’ll write it this 
very day.” And so she did, putting into it a little fun, 
just enough, as she said afterwards, to make her teacher 
laugh heartily. 
THE BOY WHO DOES HIS OWN THINKING. 
There is a pretty sharp boy living at Bridgeport, in the 
good old state of Connecticut—I mean the chap who has 
just written me a letter. And by the way, I’ve a notion 
that the boys down in that region are all a little sharper 
than they are in most other States, and that they get their 
‘‘eye teeth” cut pretty early. But whether that is so or 
not, I’ll answer for there being one smart boy in Bridge¬ 
port. His letter is about that horned frog I told you about 
in the January number of the Agriculturist. Listen to 
him : “lam almost sure, Uncle Frank, that this Texas 
animal is a Saurian. He seems to me, according to his 
picture and the description given of him, to have very 
few affinities with the Batrachian family.” Well, well, 
this young colt will make it necessary for me to brush up 
my learning somewhat, that’s clear. The Saurian or 
lizard family is thus laconically described by one of the 
best naturalists in this country : “An order of reptiles 
including all which are covered with scales, and have 
four legs.” So it appears that we can’t make a Saurian 
without scales, of which our horned frog was destitute. 
Here is a picture of a most undoubted member of the 
family—one who is every inch a Saurian You don’t 
need to be told that this is the Alligator. I call your at¬ 
tention to him, to show how wide is the difference in the 
characteristics of the two families. Do you think there 
is much blood relation between our modest frog and this 
scaly fellow? 
Now let us see what are the distinctive peculiarities of 
the Batrachian or frog family. I quote from the same 
authority : “An order of reptiles with a naked body, and 
two or four feet, including frogs, toads, salamanders, &c.” 
This letter, boys and girls, pleased me very much, and 
I’ll tell you why. It shows that the boy is disposed to 
think for himself, and not rely altogether on the thinking 
machinery of others. That boy will be somebody, one of 
these days, though he may first make a hundred mistakes 
as bad as to call our Texan toad a Saurian instead of a 
Batrachian. 
“ WHIP BEHIND.” 
This is not an uncommon street cry in New-York. It 
comes from a boy, and is addressed to the driver of an 
omnibus. The meaning of it is, “ There’s a chap hold¬ 
ing on to the back of your stage, and you would do well 
to whip him off.” I often encounter a boy, who is steal¬ 
ing a ride in this way; and he always makes me think of 
those plants which are called parasites. You know what 
a parasite is, don’t you ? It is a plant which gets its liv¬ 
ing by sucking the juices of other plants. I should be 
very sorry to see a young friend of mine making a para¬ 
site of himself in this manner. He would sink in my es¬ 
timation a good many degrees. I should be almost afiaid 
he would be a hanger-on to society some day, just as he 
is now a hanger-on to an omnibus. 
Grandmother with the Little Girls. 
NO. 3—ABOUT NEATNESS IN GENERAL, AND WASHING 
DISHES IN PARTICULAR. 
How d'ye do, my girls ? And how have you all been 
since our last visit? I hope none of you made yourselves 
sick with all the good things brought you by “ Santa 
Claus,” and “ Old January,” whom Uncle Frank told 
about. If you’ll remember to eat only candies that are 
not colored, and not eat too much, they will not harm 
you. The green and yellow and blue candies have all 
sorts of poison stuff in them. When I was young we 
didn’t see much candy ; our folks used to make maple 
sugar every Spring, and when mother wanted to give us 
something nice, she would go to the pantry, take down 
the big wooden box where it was kept, and hand out a 
good large lump. We were not afraid to eat it, for we 
knew it was made just as neat as could be. I dont see 
how folks can bear to eat what is not clean— no matter if 
they can’t see the dirt, it wasn’t made to eat. I went 
down to the City once, to visit a friend, and while I was 
there, we had baker’s bread to eat. At first I thought it 
was very nice ; it was so light and white ; but one day 
when I was walking out, I passed a cellar where a baker 
was at work mixing bread. 0, my ! He was a great 
blc.usy looking man, with a dirty checked shirt on, and as 
true as I live he was smoking a filthy pipe, right over 
where he was kneading the dough. And such a looking 
cellar! I couldn’t eat any more baker’s bread after look¬ 
ing in there. 
My old minister used to say “Cleanliness is next to god¬ 
liness,” and I think he was very near right, for I never 
saw many filthy people that were very good people. Above 
all things I love to see every thing neat about the cooking, 
anil the dishes, and the table. 
Some people look pretty nice themselves, and if you call 
on them, their parlors will look very handsome, but when 
you happen to get a peep into the kitchen, you wonder how 
they can live so, and you do not care even to stay to tea. 
I suppose they leave it all to the “help,” and many girls 
employed as servants, having never been taught how to 
do work properly, are very careless and untidy. But the 
mistress of the house should always be able to supervise 
all the work, and give such instructions to her domestics, 
as to lhave them no excuse for such neglect. 
