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AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[July, 
temper of a much more saintly woman than Aunt 
Polly, and keep her on the rack. He might just as 
well put red pepper in her eyes, as to keep her 
kitchen always smoked up with green-brush. Her 
eyes always look red, and it is nothing under the 
suu but that smoky kitchen. The draft of the chim¬ 
ney is none of the best, hut that would be remedied 
with well seasoned wood. Now you see that man 
had Christian marriage, hut he don’t care no more 
for his wife than for a dumb animal. I guess he 
would lift a sheep out of the ditch, especially in 
these times, when wool is a dollar a pound. But 
he keeps his wife in the ditch about all the while, 
and never suspects that she is a bit uncomfortable. 
He thinks he saves something by burning brush, 
but it don’t pay unless you have a machine to chop 
it up fine, and keep it under cover until it gets dry. 
To work it up with the axe into fuel for a stove, it 
eosts more thau it is worth. If it lies on the 
ground in the woods, it rots and makes good ma¬ 
nure without any expense. Then if you have it, 
or any other wood green, there is a matter of 
uncertainty about meals, which throws the whole 
work of the farm into confusion, and puts every 
body out of humor. 
But this is only one way in which a wife is kept 
uncomfortable. It does seem as if some men took 
less care of their wives than of the dumb cattle in 
their fields. If the rooms in their houses had 
been thrown together by chance, they could not 
have been more inconvenient. A good arrange¬ 
ment of the rooms saves one half the labor. Some 
times the sleeping room is on the second floor, and 
there is many a journey up and down stairs during 
the day for a woman already overburdened with 
care. Sometimes the store room is in the garret, 
aud other journeys have to be made daily, for sup¬ 
plies for the table. Every thing that she needs for 
her work should be upon the first floor, and close, 
at hand. There is no unnecessary waste of strength 
then in filling her place as housekeeper, cook, dairy 
maid, laundress, wife and mother, for many a farm¬ 
er’s wife is expected to fill all these offices, and to 
be always cheerful and happy, waiting for the com¬ 
ing of her liege lord, as if she had nothing else to 
do but to be a wife. 
The lot of a farmer’s wife, as it generally runs, is 
rather a hard one, aud is made hard very often from 
the want of attention to little things. If a man 
needs twenty cords of wood for the year, it costs 
no more to get it in the Winter, in a time of leis¬ 
ure, and to have it chopped, split and packed un¬ 
der cover, than to get it, a load at a time, and have 
the torment of a slow fire all the while. This not 
only makes more labor, but it frets and worries, 
which is a good deal worse than work. Dry wood 
is one of the secrets of a comfortable wife. That 
is what makes Mrs. Bunker so hale and handsome, 
past sixty. She says she wouldn’t know how to 
keep house without dry wood. I guess she would¬ 
n’t for she has never had any thing else. 
Deacon Smith is a good man, and means well, 
but he does not know how to use a wife. His well 
has hard water, that won’t wash, and all the water 
on washing day has to be brought from the brook, 
more than forty rods from the house. To be sure 
he keeps a servant, but it makes a world of work 
for servant and housekeeper. He might have a 
cistern that wouldn’t cost twenty dollars, aud it 
would save more thau that value of labor every 
year. He has roofing enough to keep it supplied 
with water all the while. And then the Deacon 
carries on a large farm and keeps a half dozen hired 
men, and boards and lodges them all in his own 
house. Now what a burden this brings upon a 
woman, when they might be much better accom¬ 
modated in small farm houses of their own. It is 
quite as easy to hire a part of the labor needed on 
the farm, from those married, as from those who 
have no homes of their own. This leaves a farm¬ 
er’s wife with no family but her own to attend to, 
which is much more pleasant. 
Then I guess a man has to do something to him¬ 
self as well as to his house, to make every thing go 
smooth with his wife. She bargained for a man 
when she got married, aud she lias a right to be 
disappointed, if she finds she has nothing but a 
working animal always jaded and unfit for social 
life. I know of some farmers who rarely go any 
where but to meeting and to market. They feel 
that they can not afford the time to dress up and 
go and see their friends and dine, or take a cup of 
tea. They have so slid out of society that their 
friends rarely come to see them. They are so hur¬ 
ried with work that they do not make friends very 
welcome. They seem to have no appreciation of 
life, but as an opportunity to make money. They 
prize work for this end, and time that isn’t turned 
into money is lost to them. Their muscles not 
only become hard, but their hearts grow hard and 
unsympathizing. They lose their taste for reading, 
if they ever had it, and very soon fall asleep if they 
attempt to read, or hear reading. If they are active 
in the field, they are stupid and dull in the house, 
like tired animals in their stalls. There is no men¬ 
tal growth, no development of manhood in their 
lives. This discovery^ think makes a woman more 
uncomfortable than green wood, aud smoky fires. 
She married a man—a creature of intelligence and 
affections—and she has the right to the companion¬ 
ship of a man while she remains a faithful wife. 
No man has a right to prostitute himself to mere 
money getting, no matter how honestly, or to turn 
all the energies of his being to muscular exertion. 
Manhood is the most precious product of his farm, 
and whatever else suffers, that ought to be kept 
strong and vigorous. That article has become 
mighty scarce on Jake Frink’s premises, aud it is 
this fact that makes the green-wood so very green, 
and the smoke so trying to Aunt Polly’s eyes. 
Poor woman! I shouldn’t wonder if there was 
something else in them besides smoke sometimes. 
Hookertown , > Yours to command, 
June &th, 1863. j Timothy Bunker Esq. 
--*■»—«---oosg & t rmw m. --- 
For the American Agriculturist. 
Bargain-Hunting Poor Economy. 
“ See what a splendid bargain I made yesterday,” 
said one of my neighbors who was exhibiting her 
purchases during a recent shopping expedition. 
“Only two shillings a yard, aud they asked two 
and six at every other store.” “ But Mrs. W., I 
thought you had previously bought a Summer dress 
for your daughter,” I mildly suggested. “Yes,” 
was the reply, “ she was fitted up, and it cost not a 
little to do it, I can tell you; but then this was so 
cheap, I could not bear to leave it. It will come 
good next Summer.” “And very likely be so out 
of the fashion, that the daughter will not be willing 
to wear it,” thought I, but politeness forbade me 
to say it. “ And here is another real bargain,” con¬ 
tinued Mrs. W., “ I never can get my husband to 
look out for the boys, and so I have to buy even 
their boots and shoes. Those boots I got for two 
dollars, when they were asking two and-a-half every 
where else.” One look at the articles was enough 
to show even to my unpractised eye, that they were 
made of a poor quality of split leather, cheap in¬ 
deed in price, but costly enough in every other re¬ 
spect. The first walk through a wet pasture would 
soak them like a sponge. 
Mrs. W. had committed the two errors which 
“ bargain hunters ” usually fall into, and against 
which I would warn those of that class who may 
read the American Agriculturist. First, she bought 
what was not needed, because it could be had cheap. 
The fabric was apparently worth more than the 
price paid for it, but the money laid out might all 
have been saved for that season at least, and thus 
it was really so much out of pocket. Mrs. IV. 
could not be sure that the same goods might not 
be purchased at a great reduction the following 
Summer. Fashions change rapidly, often in a single 
season, and they largely control prices. In any 
case Franklin’s old rule holds good ; “ What is not 
wanted, is dear at any price.” 
The second error of Mrs. W. was in supposing 
an article cheap, because it was sold at a low price. 
Occasionally through stress of times, or by dishon¬ 
est dealing, goods are sold at less than their value. 
In the first instance it is not according to the high¬ 
est morality to take advantage of the necessities of 
another, and in the second, the purchaser becomes 
a partner to the dishonesty, although it may be un¬ 
wittingly. But leaving morality out of the case, 
in the long run, it will be found unprofitable to 
purchase the lowest priced articles. If it be gro¬ 
ceries, they will probably be adulterated or injured 
in quality, or of short weight; t he latter dishonesty 
is largely practised in cities, where active competi¬ 
tion tempts to unscrupulous means whereby oth¬ 
ers may be apparently undersold. 
Perhaps the place of greatest temptation to bar¬ 
gain hunters is at auction sales. I have frequently 
seen housekeepers return "from a vendue in the 
country, loaded down with articles which could 
be of no possible use, purchased because “ they 
went so cheap,” to be stored in the lumber room 
until another vendue should consign them to some 
equally eager buyer of cheap wares. Let not the 
masculine readers of this part of the paper flatter 
themselves that this failing is peculiar to our sex. 
Are they not often entrapped at mock-auction 
shops in the City, and do they not frequently buy 
cheap tools for use on the farm, which cost more 
in poor execution, loss of time, and frequent re¬ 
pairs, than would twice pay for the best implements 
in the market ? The old rule “ Spend not when 
you may spare, but spare not when you must 
spend,” will be found reliable for both sexes, and I 
commend it to the consideration of all who may be 
afflicted with the mania for cheap bargains. M. 
- « -p r— ->-«*-- 
How to Trap Bats. 
A correspondent “W,” writes to the Agricultu¬ 
rist: “ Last Winter rats made their entry into my 
dove-cot, and in spite of efforts to destroy or banish 
them, they soon eat up my carriers, tumblers, fan- 
tails, and pouters, beginning on about ninety, and 
leaving seven. I read books and obtained advice 
from friends with an eager desire to save my favor¬ 
ite birds, but neither various poisons nor bailed 
traps banished or caught a rat for consolation. Now 
however, I feel free from the cunning creatures, as 
for the past two weeks I have seen no new traces 
of their existence, and it is about two weeks since 
I caught the tenth rat, which now graces my out¬ 
house wall, with a nail through his head. Think¬ 
ing that a rat when frightened was neither cautious 
nor cunning, I placed a common pressure spring, 
unbaited trap at the entrance of a rat hole, and hid 
it with a sprinkling of earth and light feathers. The 
next morning I had a “large ” rat, and had uomore 
birds taken. Eureka! Again I tried my plan, 
where a new hole appeared, for the floor being 
of earth, I filled every other hole, aud the trapped 
rat by his struggles had filled the one at which he 
was caught. I trapped another—another, and again 
another, anduntil the tenth, which I trust is the last 
In watching the rats prowl about, I noticed they 
were frequently alarmed, when they hasted into a 
well known retreat. They emerged carefully, but 
did not return so. I find therefore that a hidden 
trap in the path is pretty sure to catch, which a 
baited trap will not do. I know that this method 
is not always convenient, but one rat less is a na¬ 
tional blessing in these times.” 
Cooking’ Vegetables. 
A subscriber asks us how to cook Cauliflower. 
Boil it in water for twenty minutes or Until the 
stalk is perfectly tender, drain and pour drawn but¬ 
ter over it. Some persons boil it in milk and wa¬ 
ter aud think that it improves the flavor. This in¬ 
quiry reminds us that too little attention is paid to 
cooking vegetables. The common “ boiled pot ” of 
the farm kitchen, where salt meat is cooked with 
a variety of vegetables, can be improved upon. 
There are very few vegetables that are not injured; 
to our taste at least, by being cooked with salt 
meat. Spinach or beet greens make but an indif¬ 
ferent dish when cooked with meat, but boiled by 
themselves, and then chopped and dressed with but¬ 
ter, they are delicious. All greens should have the 
water drained or squeezed out of them before they 
