834 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
wrote it in their name, meaning to run it down, 
so as to get it as cheap as possible. That is about 
the drift of thejetter, as far as I can see any in 
it. But I may as well say, first as last, that that 
piece of land is not in the market. Land that 
will cut three tun of hay to the acre, or pasture a 
cow through the whole season, is about good 
enough to keep. The marsh has turned the 
heads of some people, and I have had a lot of 
folks from abroad to see it, and to learn how the 
trick was done. A fellow called the other day, 
from way down beyond Boston. He had a pro¬ 
ject in his head, to reclaim three thousand acres, 
and make a mint of money out of it. It can be 
done just as easy as to flip a cent, if he has the 
money to do it with. 
That letter tried to make it out that I had spent 
a great deal of money on my marsh. This shows 
how little the writer knows about it. I have got 
more than muck enough out of the ditches, to pay 
for all the improvements and top dressings ap¬ 
plied to it; so that I am a good deal in debt to 
that land to day. The principal part of the ex¬ 
pense of such an improvement is in the embank¬ 
ment, and that was all made in this case. 
As to this marsh ever going back again, of 
course it will, if it is not taken care of. Any fool 
can see that if the tide gate is not kept in order, 
the sea water will come in, and the salt grasses 
will grow again. But any fool in Hookertown, 
will tell you that Tim Bunker knows enough to 
keep a tide gate in order, and to shut out “ crabs ” 
and “eel grass.” 
The letter tries to make a handle out of my 
dress, and on this subject I guess I am posted 
about as well as some of my neighbors. I be¬ 
lieve in people’s dressing according to their char¬ 
acters, and their business. If there is any thing 
better than rubber boots for a ditch half full of 
water, I should like to see it. I have not got 
above my business of farming yet, and don’t ex¬ 
pect to very soon. Some folks, I suppose, like 
Tucker and Jones, if they should be made a Jus¬ 
tice, or elected to any high office, would not wear 
any thing but calfskin, for the rest of their lives. 
And thereby I think they would show that the 
calf was a little more than skin deep. 
You see, Mr. Editor, this matter of dress is of 
more importance than most people think. It 
makes or ruins a multitude of people, and has a 
great deal to do with these crashes that you have 
in the city, every few years. And to begin with, 
as Mr. Spooner would say, there is a great deal 
in dressing folks up with the right kind of names, 
when they start in life. I don’t think your cor¬ 
respondents were as lucky in. their names as they 
might have been. George Washington Tucker, 
anil Benjamin Franklin Jones, sound considera¬ 
ble grand, and fixed up, as if a man would have 
to stoop some when he come into the room 
where such people lived. But I guess if you 
knew the folks that wear them, as well as I do, 
you would not think there was much call for 
manners. You see, Tucker’s father was never 
worth a red cent in the world, above the clothes 
he had upon his back, and his mother had more 
pretensions than any woman of her size I ever 
knew. He was a tailor by trade, and spent all his 
earnings upon broadcloth and silk, for himself 
and wife. I remember when parasols first came 
round, Tucker got one for his wife, and she was 
so anxious to show it, that she carried it to meet¬ 
ing with her, and hoisted it in meeting time, just 
as Mr. Spooner begun his sermon, as much as to 
say “ Tucker's wife is some pumkins arter all.” 
The way the minister looked at her was a cau¬ 
tion to all peacocks, dogs, and other vermin. 
Deacon Smith had to come over and tell her to 
take down that windmill, for he hadn’t seen one 
before and he did not know what to call it. Mrs. 
Bunker said “she thought she would have sunk 
into the earth.” 
Well, you see, when their first child was born, 
thinking, I suppose, that they would not have 
much else to give, they gave him the name of 
Geo. Washington Tucker. Now what’s the use 
of dressing up a poor boy, with such a big sound¬ 
ing name. You see, it makes too heavy a load 
for an ordinary mortal to carry through life. If 
he ever makes any thing, becomes a business 
man, it is a great waste of paper and ink to have 
to write so long a name. And if he don’t make 
any thing, he becomes a standing joke like the 
present George Washington Tucker. Fie has 
always lived in a hired house, and worked hired 
land, when he worked any. To tell the plain 
truth, he has never hurt himself with work of 
any kind, and though a farmer, has been about as 
shy of the dirt as his father was before him. I 
suppose it’s wicked, but I never see him in meet¬ 
ing without thinking of that parasol forty years 
ago. The green of that silk went as straight into 
that boy as if he had grown on a mulberry tree, 
instead of being born like other mortals. 
Jones came of a better family. His father, 
Gen’l. Jones was flourishing forty years ago. He 
had a good deal of money left him by his father, 
and married rich. The General was mighty fond 
of cocked hats, epaulettes, and other military fix¬ 
ings, and his wife was fond of French fashions, 
and extravagant dress. They used to drive 
through the street in Hookertown, in a splendid 
carriage, drawn by a pair of black horses, with 
harness glittering with silver buckles and 
mountings. Nobody held their heads higher than 
the Joneses of the last generation. The Gener¬ 
al’s house was crowded with gay company from 
the city, his wife and daughters dressed splendid¬ 
ly, and gave brilliant parties, where the wine 
flowed like water, and the dance and song lasted 
till morning. 
The Gen'l. died a bankrupt when the present 
Benjamin Franklin Jones was a boy of ten. Of 
course the property had to be sold, and Ben. had 
to go to work for a living, which was the best 
thing that ever happened to him, or any other 
man, according to my notion. He however had 
got some high notions in his childhood, that has 
prevented him from succeeding in life. He has 
never loved work, like one who has grubbed in 
the dirt, from the time he could grasp a hoe han¬ 
dle. You must begin early with the boys, if you 
want to make them love work. Ilub their noses 
in it, as soon as they can run, and they will al¬ 
ways love the smell of mother earth, as long as 
they live. But if you dress them in fine clothes 
until they are ten, and twelve, and then try to 
break them in, it is just like breaking in a six 
year old pair of cattle—mighty hard work. 
To state the case just as it is, Benjamin Frank¬ 
lin Jones is too much afraid of dirtying his clothes, 
to get along in life. And these are the kind of 
folks, you see, that are laughing at Tim Bunker's 
old hat, and long legged boots, and talking of 
throwing stones because I live in a glass house. 
They have the advantage of me in flinging stones, 
for they haven’t got any houses at all, of their 
own, if I should want to throw back again. My 
hat is old, as they say, but it is paid for, which is 
more than can be said of the hats of my illus¬ 
trious neighbors, George Washington Tucker, 
and Benjamin Franklin Jones. One was won in 
a bet at the last presidential election, and the 
other has been charged in the merchant’s book— 
for more than three years. 
Yours to command, 
Timothy Bunker, Esq. 
Hookertown, Ct., Oct. 12, 1859. 
For the American Agriculturist. 
Muck and Lime united as a Manure. 
A correspondent enquired in a former number 
of the Agriculturist, whether slacked lime, if mix¬ 
ed with the vegetable production found in our 
swamps, termed muck, would prove beneficial to 
the soil as a manure 1 This will in some degree 
depend upon the quality of the soil, but as a gen¬ 
eral rule, the answer would be in the affir¬ 
mative ; and I should confidently recommend the 
process whenever it becomes practicable. The 
reason why this vegetable material, when min¬ 
gled with the soil in its pure condition, has some¬ 
times proved of so little utility, is owing to the 
circumstance of its containing a considerable 
quantity of resinous matter in its composition, 
which prevents it from undergoing so ready a de¬ 
composition as is necessarily required ; it being 
insoluble in water. But by the application of 
slaked lime, or any other alkaline ingredients, 
even such as is contained in ashes, they are 
found immediately to combine with the resins em¬ 
braced in the muck, and readily produce a soap 
which is perfectly soluble in water ; it then easi¬ 
ly becomes washed from the woody fibers, and 
leaves the hitherto undecaying malerials to the 
free action of moisture, and those other atmos¬ 
pheric agents which facilitate its decomposition. 
Slaked lime, then, united with muck should be 
recommended; but it will not answer so well to 
mix it with other manures which may owe their 
fertilizing properties to nitrogen, as in this case 
ammonia will be produced, and speedily pass off 
to be dispersed in the atmosphere. J. E. 
A Common. Error in Drainage. 
The most of the draining yet attempted in this 
country is with open ditches, and in swamps. 
Three cases have recently come under our ob¬ 
servation, in which the failure is traceable to a 
common cause. 
Mr. A-, reclaimed a swamp of twelve acres. 
It was thickly covered with brush, and had made 
a very heavy turf of roots and moss, a foot or 
more thick. A deep wide ditch was run through 
the middle, with a few side ditches running at 
right angles to the main ditch. There was no 
ditch put around the border to cut off the springs 
from the side hill. There was a good fall, and 
these ditches took off all the water from the pond 
and made the whole swamp ready for the plow. 
In 1856 he had good crops, and in 1857 still bet¬ 
ter, some of the stoutest corn in town. In 1858, 
the corn was not as good, even with the applica¬ 
tion of manure, and in 1859 the corn crop is a 
decided failure. The land had settled somewhat 
hy the decay of the roots and vegetable matter 
in the soil, and had become so compact that the 
water from the sides could not readily escape 
into the ditches. 
Mr. B-, drained some four acres with tile 
running from the edge of the swamp into a main 
open ditch, in the middle. The tile were put four 
rods apart, and even with this imperfect drain¬ 
age, the land was very productive for four or five 
years, bearing good hoed crops, and still better 
grass. Last year, it was taken up a second 
time, and the corn was a failure, owing to the ex 
cessive moisture of the land. No border ditch 
had been made to cut off springs from the upland. 
Mr. C-, had some ten acres of low wet land, 
underlaid by a hard pan, the soil in no place more 
than eighteen inches deep A small brook run 
through the middle. The bed of this was lower¬ 
ed some two feet, and two other ditches at a 
distance of about ten rods were dug, going no 
