1863 .] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
Ill 
a child in case of difficult teething. This can 
easily be done with a sharp penknife. After the 
lancing, it is recommended to wash the mouth 
with two ounces of tincture of myrrh to a pint 
of water, or a strong solution of alum in water. 
Feed the colt on bran mashes and grass, with¬ 
holding all grain until he eats without difficulty. 
Care of Harness. 
T. Oliver Ayres, a practical harness-maker, 
Kent Co., Del., contributes to the American Ag¬ 
riculturist the following suggestions: “ Harness 
should be kept hung up on wooden pegs in a 
clean dry room with a plank floor, so that it 
may be free from dampness. When soiled, it 
should be washed with Castile soap suds. Har¬ 
ness that is in constant use needs oiling four 
times a year; if only occasionally brought out, 
as carriage harness, etc., twice a year will be 
sufficient, if the washing be not neglected. 
To oil harness, separate all the pieces, and 
lay them in water until thoroughly wet through. 
Then wash them clean, and allow them to dry 
sufficiently. To know when they are in good 
condition for oiling, bend a strap, and if the 
water does not ooze out, it is dry enough. Train- 
oil (whale oil) is sometimes used, but neats-foot 
oil is much better. Mix with it a little lamp¬ 
black, and with a brush apply it to both sides 
of the straps. About six hours after oiling, 
wash the whole with Castile soap and warm wa¬ 
ter, let them dry, rub well with a w r oolen cloth, 
and buckle them together.” 
Management of Fowls, 
J. E. Hardisty, Harford Co., Md., writes to the 
American Agriculturist as follows: “I keep 7 
hens and 1 cock. During the last year, ending 
Dec. 31st, 1862, each hen laid on an average 
128 eggs, and raised two broods of chickens. I 
feed them well on corn; they were shut up 
during corn-planting time for four weeks, which 
shortened the number of eggs at least 130. 
They lay nearly every day when they can get 
animal food. If I had any way of providing 
them with cheap animal food in the Winter, I 
believe they would each lay 250 eggs a j^ear. My 
neighbors wonder why they lay so well. My 
plan for several years has been this: I keep 
none but the game breed, and but few of them; 
if a hen does not lay at least ten dozen eggs a 
year, or if she will sit when we don’t want her 
to, she soon becomes a candidate for the dinner- 
pot, and never fails being elected, her place be¬ 
ing filled by a younger one, to undergo a like 
ordeal. In Spring I generally have 10 or 11 
hens and pullets to select from; by May 1st, 
7 or 8 remain; I keep two old favorites that lay 
well, sit well, and take good care of the chick¬ 
ens when hatched. Cost of feeding each hen 
50 cents; average price of eggs 12i cents per 
dozen; one quart of corn per day, in the Win¬ 
ter, when they can get nothing else, is as much 
as ten game chickens will eat.” 
M. L. B., Greenwood, Maryland, found the 
profits arising from 3 cocks, 5 hens, and 15 pul¬ 
lets of the Black Spanish, Dominique, and Bra- 
ma Pootra breeds, as follows: 
1584 eggs collected and sold at 16c. per dozen.$21.12 
179 chickens raised, at 25c. 44.75 
Total. $65.87 
23 dozen eggs set.$3.68 
Cost of grain for feed...*.25.51—29.19 
Profit on 23 fowls.$36.68 
As lias been frequently remarked in these col¬ 
umns, poultry raising on a limited scale is far 
more profitable than when attempted largely. 
Many have been induced, by accounts like the 
above, to enter the business on a wholesale plan. 
But, even with the best arranged buildings for 
the purpose, and the most careful management, 
so far as we know there has been only complete 
failure. It is not natural for poultry to gather 
in large flocks. Uncontrollable diseases break 
out among them such under circumstances, or 
for some unexplained reason they fail to lay, 
and become unprofitable. From 15 to 30 fowls 
properly kept will add largely to the family in¬ 
come, both on the table and in the pocket. 
Blinks from a Lantern- ■. XXXIII. 
REDIVIVUS 
VISITS A BACHELOR FARMER. 
Since my reappearance, I have had occasion 
to reform my notions about the opposite sex. 
They have grown so much more companiona¬ 
ble than they were in my day, that a bachelor 
of middle age living by himself, is the rarest of 
birds in the rural districts. I occasionally find 
one amid a group of maiden sisters, temporarily 
stalled on his road to matrimony, but so human¬ 
ized by his surroundings that he is hardly to be 
distinguished from a married man. This cer¬ 
tainly is a very great change in the state of so¬ 
ciety. Mrs. Grundy, who is quite as much of a 
woman as she is a farmer, suggests that the 
sweeter temper of the women of modern times 
may be owing to the improvement of the men. 
There may be something in that, for I remem¬ 
ber now, that even Socfates was not a saint, ac¬ 
cording to the modern standard. 
I recently, however, heard of a Simon pure 
bachelor, a real woman hater, who set up for 
himself forty years ago, and has lived to old age 
in a house unblest by woman’s footsteps. A ne¬ 
gro attended to his housekeeping, which was of 
the most primitive kind, and lent a hand in the 
field when the indoor work was not pressing. 
I found Jacob Pennywise the owner of a good 
farm, by his own earnings. The exterior of the 
house was not so unpromising, for it had been 
built for a man with a family. It was a good 
deal larger than Pennywise needed, but as he 
could not make it smaller without expense it 
remained as he purchased it. The barn was a 
model building, the masterpiece of Jacob’s life. 
He could appreciate the wants of animals much 
better than those of human beings. By his an¬ 
imals he made his money, and these must be 
comfortably housed and well fed, whatever else 
suffered. He seemed to take to animals more 
than to men, and to have a fellow feeling for 
them. He always fed them himself, when at 
home, and this was without exception for forty 
years. He had never slept under another roof 
in all those years, and the farthest adventure 
from home, had been to the nearest market 
town, seven miles off. He took much more 
pride in the appearance of his cattle, than in his 
own. He carded and brushed his working cat¬ 
tle and steers, that he was breaking to the yoke, 
though, j udging from his tangled locks, the comb 
seldom disturbed his own head. He had noticed 
that men who bought oxen were willing to pay 
something for looks. He used to say it made a 
difference of ten dollars in the sale of a yoke of 
cattle, if the hair was kept smooth. He didn’t 
care a straw about looks himself, but if folks 
wanted looks in cattle, he could make ten dol¬ 
lars as easy by using the card, as in any other way. 
He was famous for his colts, in all the county. 
Nobody raised better, and nobody broke them 
so well. He had a very handsome income from 
the sale of animals every year. This was the 
chief product of his farm, though he occasional¬ 
ly sold poultry, grain, and fruit, when he had a 
surplus. He was almost as covetous of manure 
as he was of his money. The cellar was of the 
full size of the barn, and the droppings of fifty 
head of cattle all went into this receptacle and 
were composted with large quantities of muck 
and loam. He never allowed a rainy day to be 
wasted. There was always plenty of work in 
the barn cellar, however hard it rained. There 
was nothing like manure, he said, to make good 
colts and steers, and in this he was right. 
The management of the barn and of the farm 
was admirable, indeed I have rarely met with 
anything more orthodox. But when we come 
to the management of Jacob Pennywise himself, 
and of his domicil, the picture changes. I saw 
at a glance that this was bachelor’s hall, where 
the song of a mother and the merry laugh of 
children were never heard. There was no car¬ 
pet upon the floor, no cushioned seat, no rock¬ 
ing chair, no mirror upon the walls, no pictures, 
not even a lithograph of his favorite horses and 
oxen. There had once been a coat of white¬ 
wash upon the plastering overhead, but it was 
before Jacob’s day. There -was a broom in one 
comer, but it was in the last stages of dissolu¬ 
tion, having been used up for tooth picks. There 
could have been no sweeping done there for 
many weeks. There was a settee upon one 
side, and a long table; a half dozen chairs upon 
another, of the plainest description; a cook- 
stove and a wood-box upon the third; and on 
the fourth a long box with a lid, suggestive to 
more senses than one, of boots and bed-clothes 
within. This was the sleeping apartment of 
Scipio, the body servant of Pennywise. Judg¬ 
ing from the looks of the lord of the mansion, 
Scipio’s duties were light. 
Though Jacob was reputed rich, he was never 
known to invest in stocks, or to deposit his 
money in the bank. He occasionally visited 
that institution, and always carried specie away. 
He paid his taxes promptly, for he could not 
help it, but this was his only contribution for the 
public welfare. His appearance was so seedy 
that no stranger would think of applying to him 
for charity, and his neighbors knew him too well 
to ask aid. He cared nothing for schools or 
churches, for highways or public improvements. 
He had about as much as he could attend to, to 
take care of his farm. He had no near relatives, 
and was never known to entertain a guest at his 
house, and he never went a visiting himself. 
A few days after my visit I saw the notice of 
his death. He was found dead on his bed one 
cold winter morning, by old Scipio. On exam¬ 
ining the premises, they found stowed away in 
various places, gold and silver coin to the 
amount of over thirty thousand dollars, which 
was the sum total of all that was left of Jacob 
Pennywise. Here was a man lost for the want 
of a woman. He filled no useful place in socie¬ 
ty. He was a mere machine for makingmoney. 
The noblest product of the farm is manhood. If 
the soil can not be made to yield that crop, it 
were better to lie waste. 
