States in this country, wbilo it is grown to some 
extent in Canada, as well as in Mexioo, Hondu¬ 
ras, Guatemala, and some others of the Central 
American States. In Europe, Asia aud Africa 
tobacco is extensively cultivated, growing as far 
north in Europe as Moscow in Russia, as well as 
in Denmark and Switzerland. It grows equally 
well in interior Africa, while in China and Japan 
it proves a successful rival of the tea plant. In 
India, under tha fostering care of the English 
Crown, it is already beeomiug an important pro¬ 
duct, while Spain has grown it in the Phillipino 
Islands for more than two hundred years. 
Tobacco, for all of the uses for which it is in¬ 
tended, is divided into two olassos—cigar and 
cutting-leaf; the latter class including snuff-leaf. 
Cigar-leaf tobacco includes the tobacco grown 
in New England (both Conn, seed-leaf and 
Havana seed tobacco), Pa., N. Y., Ohio, (this 
State also grows cutting-leaf), Wisconsin, Illin¬ 
ois, Indiana. Cigar-leaf is also grown in Cuba, 
St. Domingo, Mexioo, Brazil, Paraguay, United 
States of Columbia, Hungary, Holland, Switzer¬ 
land and Pbillipine Islands, and in other portions 
of the world. In this country, owing to its vast 
extent, very many Borts are cultivated, aud in 
two of the States, Virginia and Kentucky, it is 
the great agricultural product. America is, 
therefore, tha greatest exporting country of 
tobacco in the world, and Louisville, Ky., the 
largest tobaoco market. 
It is important that the grower of tobacco 
should thoroughly understand the nature of his 
land in order to determine what variety to plant, 
cultivating only that sort that will give the lar¬ 
gest returns. Massachusetts raises the largest 
number of pound* to the aoro, 1750. and West 
Virginia the smallest, 575 pounds. Some varie¬ 
ties of the plant arc very largo of growth, reach¬ 
ing an altitude of some six feet, while others do 
not grow more than two foot high. Yara tobac¬ 
co, grown in the island of Cuba, is one of the 
tallest sorts cultivated, growing as high as corn 
and, after being topped, usually bears from 18 to 
22 loaves. The shape and siz9 of the loaves 
vary greatly. Some sorts bear long, pointed 
leaves, while other kinds produce leaves nearly 
round. Some kinds hear pink flowers, like all of 
the sorts grown in this country, while Latakia 
tobaoco bears a yellow flower, Guatemala a white 
blossom, and Japan tobacco a purple flower. 
Some tobacco leaves grow close together, like 
Yara, and others (dwarf tobacco) grow in a 
cluster at the foot of the plant. Some varieties 
have a large stalk, like Pa., Conn., Va. and Ken¬ 
tucky, while Havana, Yara, Persian and Litakia 
have a small hard stalk. Some loaves are at¬ 
tached to the stalk by a long stem, liko Syrian 
tobacco, while mo3t kinds grow closely to the 
stem. One variety, tha White (Ohio), has a 
white 3talk and midrib and light-colored leaves. 
The colors of tobacco are also various. The 
seed-leaf varieties are usually light and dark 
cinnamon in color, while Kentneky, Missouri, 
Holland, Perique aud other sorts, are very dark 
or black. Some of tho Southern sorts are very 
light in color (light yellow), while kinds grown 
in Asia are red. 
No product grown affords more scopo for 
study, both in tho field and from books, than the 
tobacco plaut. To raise fl.no tobacco is, in all 
respoots, a science, and for really flue crops very 
high prices oau most generally be realized. The 
growers of Now England and Wisconsin are now 
trying to rai-o tropical varieties of tho weed, 
and, if successful, will still further advance tho 
culture of the plaut as well as add very mnch to 
tho profit from its cultivation. More than 250 
years have passed away since the Virginians en¬ 
gaged in its culture, aud to-day it is one of our 
greatest products as well as our oldest article of 
export. 
$arm (fronomii. 
COURAGE ON THE FARM AND IN THE 
SWAMP AND MUCK-BED-No. 1. 
GEN. \VM. n. NOBLE, OF BRIDOEPORT, CONN. 
“A' ftommepropose, mats Diea dispose." 
This roveront French maxim is a thoughtful 
text, and a little sermon by itself. Bat its real 
spirit is lost many times, in a woe-begone re¬ 
hearsal, “ Man proposes, but God disposes." 
This is well said, if wo mean thereby, when 
human effort gaugs awry, that ‘‘there is a 
divinity which shapes our ends," “ Uttered or 
unexpressed, 1 it may be the heart-voice of a 
pious resignation ; but sometimes it is the wail 
of a sinking hope, and about as often merely 
the impious growl at failure, doomed against 
some folly or madness from the start. The Ira- 
mau tries his baud at something hotter lort un¬ 
done, or, venturing beyond his depth, charges 
the swamping of his eudeavor on some special 
providence. This laying blame at God’s door 
for the outcome of our folly, blunders or inia- 
deeds, is, in the main, but a sham of reverence, 
and an impious conceit. 
That God disposos events, I do not doubt. 
at my faith is, that he acts through general 
laws and the essential nature stamped on “all 
that moves and has being." Only at long inter¬ 
vals through the ages, does the Great Ruler of 
events descend to touch man’s life and his in¬ 
firmities by some special providence. If, is 
against these general laws and that essential 
naturo that the human wrecks bis hopes. It 
was their help and following that lifted the pre¬ 
historic man from crude virility to a better man¬ 
hood. Their study and alliance secure a mighty 
aid; but across the path of him who heeds 
them not, thej rise a wall of adamant. 
Now tho farm furnishes examples of all this, 
as amply as any other phase of life. He who 
hangs his harp upon the willows and says, “I 
am a-weary and discouraged; God disposes not 
his elements to increase ray store," is an impi¬ 
ous drone, a blind man walking in tho light of 
day. All around you God has disposed the ways 
and means wherowith to swell the returns to 
your toil. Besides, you and all are forces and 
treasures ordained and awaiting, through the 
centuries, some brigbUcyed mortal to loose 
their bond or to lift their veil. When such a 
man, plunging beneath the shallows of the mass, 
studies out and reveals any of nature’s dormant 
reservos and unmated forces, he has only done 
a duty, which, in part, belongs to all. It mat¬ 
ters not whether the thing revealed is some 
sleeping energy, or some stored-np wealth. The 
human has not made them, nor has a special 
providence given them life. They were before 
him, awaiting summons to a higher mission. 
It is no new element or form of motion jast 
divinely ordered, that girts the world with speak¬ 
ing lire that makes vocal with song and greet¬ 
ing the wires that web tho laud—that calls back 
the wave pulsations of tho voico from and 
through solid iron. Throughout the wondrous 
facts of science and invention, it is only somo 
slumbering giant, among nature’s unharnessed 
servants, whoso power or store of good, invent¬ 
ive genius has siuglod out or mated for the use 
of man. After out first surprise, the real won¬ 
der always is, that our boasted intellect took so 
long to find that which has inrkad close by our 
pathway through the ages. Yet the same bated 
breath and the same wonder will forever greet 
each now victory of endeavor. 
Pretty much so it happens in the garden and 
the farm. Man’s first lift from savage life was 
to them. In no line of life does he staud so 
close to nature in all her moods. But their study 
^md help the husbandman has not made a fore¬ 
most interest and duty. He has not kept pace 
with the force, keenness aud mobility of brain, 
begot of human contact in masses. So, cling¬ 
ing to inherited mothods and ideas, and averse 
to new, ha starves and wears out hia land. New 
appliances aud sources of enrichment close at 
hand are a sealed book, or neglected. Dis¬ 
heartened by liia toil and scanty crops, “the 
plowman plods his weary way,’ uttering from 
his heart, if not hia lips, tho sad rendering of 
our text, “Man proposes, but God disposes.” 
He chargos failure not to his halting, timid pro¬ 
posing and blind-eyed doiug, but lays ou Provi¬ 
dence the squelching to which their wish-wash 
destined both. The trouble is, that the propos¬ 
ing is greatly ahead of the doing, and neither 
gets much help from brains. Doing has other 
moaning than deeds of back-work and muscle. 
A brain, apt and eager to take on new ideas, has 
ail to do, both with what we propose and what 
we perform. 
Whether we work self-taught by eye and stu¬ 
dious thought, or on something given us for 
trial out of the research and experience of oth¬ 
ers, such a brain and its mental frame-work 
lift the earthy man to higher and more telling 
toil. Not only is the farm-brain, as a rule, slack 
in self-teaching, but it turns its back on new 
lessons—sometimes under the conceit of know¬ 
ing bettor, but as often through sheer stolidity. 
Even when some patient work and search have 
conquered larger aud easier crops for tho farm, 
instead of following up aud tosting this lino of 
trial, its owner is mute with wonder aud dis¬ 
trust. So he lives on. When his crops are glo¬ 
rious and barns well filled, the husbandman 
growls not, but sings with joy. The propose 
and the dispose are all right. But let the means 
of enrichment fail his lands—no increase come 
to his flocks and store; and right-away he sayB, 
“Alas! Providence disposes neither the ele¬ 
ments, nor my place in life, to second my en¬ 
deavor. I delve and plan but naught I do 
brings plenty. My lot has fallen in barren 
places, my soil is shallow and worn out; my 
acres starve for want of means and material for 
their enrichment. I should have guano from 
the far-off islands of the sea, the waste of the 
great oity, the droppiugs of the Btalla ; but ray 
product barely serves my table; I have not 
wherewith to buy these things for which my 
land hungers." 
Despair not, fellow-husbandman. What you 
cover would work rapid cure to your dearth of 
crops, but there are other chances of enrich¬ 
ment than those you gain from afar, with great 
outlay of money, time aud toil. Although you 
have not c ash, nor manna showered down to feed 
your land, there may be store near-by fro u 
which to help your barrenness. Within the 
reach of every thoughtful, toilful, hopeful tiller 
of the soil, aro unused forces and garnered 
stores for all the needs of his acres. They await 
your thoughtful labor, mated with the alchemy 
of tho seasons, to transmute them into bounte¬ 
ous crops and gold. That tumbling mountain 
brook, plunging along its lovl of plant-food, 
offers you no end of help. I . rn on to your 
meadows its flood, burthened with the waste and 
decay of the rocks and woodlands. The breeze 
that shakes out the tassels of yonr corn, or 
sweeps with swaying waves the fields of grain, 
or wafts the clover perfume on the air, when 
you rightly till, will unload its enrichment 
among tho products of your farm. All these 
measure out to you their blessing, just as you 
mete to your land toil and fatness. 
There is other stored-np food for hungry 
fields, that will not flow and blow to help you. 
Up in that rocky, woodland glen, the drift of 
rains and storms and melting snows has piled 
deep the moldering waste and vegetation of 
ages. Unload this, pure and Bimple, on your 
meadows and grain land, and at every step your 
product marks its coming; or, better, help 
with its richness the fatness of your stalls and 
manure pile. Yon may thus beyond count swell 
your increase. 
Then, in sight of about every homestead, its 
owuer holds some dank and miry swamp, or 
some sour grass bog-meadow. For centuries, it 
has been little but the home whence the hyber- 
nating frog wakes from hia wintry sleep, with 
the firBt rude Bong of spring. That deep slum 
and wet footing, whence you only get, from the 
hog turfs, a few messes of young grasB for your 
spring milkers. God meant for your best mea¬ 
dow. Deep muck, that registers the decay of 
centuries, there waits in sour blackness low- 
down under-drains and the clearing of its sur¬ 
face, to sweeten into your ohoice hay-laud, or to 
become the joy of any crop. Take heed, no pet¬ 
ty surface-drains, no half-way work ! Bat dig 
them deep and large, and bottom with bulky 
tile. One way-down, big-tilo drain, is worth a 
dozen shallow ones, lir.ed with slender pipes. 
It gives yon undertiers of acres. It builds dowu- 
ward stories to your land, that call for more 
lofts to yonr barns, and orowd them round with 
stacks. 
But, best of all; thero is on, or near by, every 
farm-land, a deep peat-bed, where sphagnum 
moss, or grasses aud reeds, have recorded the 
ages, in countless tiny layers of growth and de¬ 
cay. This holds land weallh piled fathoms deep. 
Not half tho owners know the depth, and loss of 
them the value of this stored-np fertility. Its 
vast treasures of enrichment offer succor to your 
waning crops. Earth holds no like castaway 
and unheeded wealth. Seas, and savage noisome 
lands, and moro savage tribes, stay not the 
searCS for gold or diamond. Toil, hardship and 
danger are defied to dig them pure and simple 
from earth placers or the solid rock. But the 
chance, right at hand, of transmuting this deep 
peat-bed into gold, through the alchemy of a 
crop, neither you nor the generations hoed. 
The fog that broods over its chilly dampness, is 
but an emblem of the clammy brain that passes, 
unheeding, this vegetable wealth for which year 
soil so hankers. Yet every day records this 
same stolid neglect. But when you dump a 
horse-cart load of dry peat upon your land, or 
farm-yard, or compost heap, you make a dollar. 
In no way can the farmer so quickly reach sub¬ 
stance In land wealth or funded stock, as ly 
rniniug these peat beds. 
The hundred dollars got by hard work, or 
scrimp of table raiment, put on mortgage, or 
in savings bank, or in government bouds, win 
you but a small return. But your hundred, put 
into the peat bed, with your own aud others' 
toil well haudled, will turn out a thousand, aud 
keep it compounding. Why does not work or 
oash on the farm invest more in these Banks, 
which providence has disposed at our bauds, aud 
made so secure, and sure of dividend. There is 
no lottery, no chance of blanks or failure in this 
peat bed. It is God’s insurance of prosperity to 
wit and toil. 
Ah! purblind and self-cheating human! God 
disposes at your door his gifts, iu fall measure 
for your enrichment. The fault is yonrs ! You 
do not propose, or set out with a will, to do the 
duty, or to grasp the chances before you. Yt u 
put uo brains, no study, no patient thought, into 
your toil. So you prosper not. Yonr business 
is in tho soil. But what do you know about its 
assay of organic or mineral wealth, about the 
way to mine their richness, or to supply their 
needs ? In solemn fact, beside the gain of a few 
handy implements, how much advance has the 
average farm-brain made ahead of the stalwart 
savage founders of our race P They tilled only 
& little patch. But in the line of their endeavor, 
they beat your brain work. No plodders went 
before to break their paths. Tho craft and 
alertness born of fight and rapine; of the stealflhy 
hunt of beast and enemy ; of the sharp watch of 
faint trails through the trackless woods, kept 
their brains alive. Bat the listless monotony 
and drag of farm life veil from the mass of its 
toilors resources of land enrichment sighted 
from their doors. 
Wake up, man, and right off turn that swamp 
land aud peat-bed into crops, brimming your 
mows and grain-bins. It is no abstruse job to 
map and mark the grades and lines and size and 
depth of their drainage. Yon need no engineer 
with levels, sights and oh&in measures. The 
simple sense of any man who can read figures on a 
rod or line, or sight a st e, is equal to 
the task. All you need is a tape-measure, a tin 
milk-pan, not too much bunged, a long, light 
pole, with a red rag tied thereto. 
Now measure the length and breadth, and 
Bound the depth of your water-logged area. 
Along that leDgth-line, at each hundred feet, 
from the head of your drain, mark on a stake, 
the sum of that drain-head’s depth below the 
surface, added to the feet of fall yon give your 
drain to that point, and bo on down. You can 
thus dig just to grade either at or between the 
stakes. 
When, in this logic of your work, you come 
down to, or near the natural outlet of the wetness, 
look at the trend of the land beyond. Knowing 
the depth of digging at the last stake towards 
that outlet, judge how far down the grade or 
stream beyond, you must make tho outlet of 
your drain, to insure a quick delivery. There 
plant your polo, with the red rag marking there¬ 
on the snm of drain-head'B depth, and of drain- 
fall, from head to outflow. You may not guess 
exactly right. But place that brimming pan 
dose to the surface of the peat, and sight along 
its water level that rod rag. If you have not 
put that lowest stake aright, let your pole b 
moved up or down stream, till your level strike 
the rag. Then drive at the foot of your pole 
stake to mark the outlet of your drain. This 
completes the lines and features of your work. 
Too same routine and logic will fit any drainage. 
- [To he Continued. 
THE COMPOST HEAP. 
We take it for granted that very little need be 
said in this day in favor of the largest and best 
possible collection of fertilizing elements prop¬ 
el ly prepared, as can only be done by compost¬ 
ing. As a correspondent inquires for specific 
directions iu composting, we give a short ac¬ 
count of the simplest process which is believed 
to reduce the fertilizer to the nearest possible 
condition for immediate use by the yonng 
plants. Simply covering straw, vines and green 
manure in the earth is better than no manure, 
or than spreading them upon the surface, but 
it is very far from the most effective or eco 
noinical use of such materials. 
Wo take it for granted also that the farmer 
knows that a few dollars earned in preparing his 
owu fertilizers, are just as well as if paid out for 
others, ami that a perfect care of manures is as 
necessary as a perfect curing and storing of the 
crops he raises. 
Composting should be done trader cover, as 
all manure should be kept under cover in sum¬ 
mer, especially. The location otherwise is of 
less moment. If tho composting can be done 
upon the land where garden or other crops are to 
be raised, it is better than if done in the barn¬ 
yard, unless a water-tight floor is provided, as 
very much is washed into the ground, even with 
the best possible care. It is not necessary that 
any amount of leaching should take place; in 
fact, no liquids should escape or be added to the 
heap, except as absorbed by some bedding or 
deodorizer, or such as will readily fce absorbed 
by tho refuse already in the pile. The shape of 
the heap is of little account. It is more con¬ 
venient to handle in a pile much longer than 
wide, but thoru is much saved by having the 
sides inclosed by a tight board fence. The 
practice of supplying a couple of liogB with all 
the refuse, and the additional iugredients, as 
obtained, and scattering a few kernels of corn 
upon it, is a good one, but whatever tho first 
process of piling up the material, it must needs 
be forked over frequently during the year it 
is waiting for use. to allow of decompo¬ 
sition. 
Manure should not be applied to land until it 
has rotted during one summer at least, and what 
has accumulated during the winter should be 
piled in the heap, so as to be turned over from 
time to time. The only remaining care to be 
exercised is to have a barrel or two of plaster 
on hund at all times, to prevent the loss of am¬ 
monia in the vapor arising during the heating. 
To prevent this, Borne twenty-five pounds of plas¬ 
ter to every ton of manure are thinly spread over 
the heap, as it is piled up or forked over, and if, 
during the heating, the smell shows that any 
great amount oT ammonia is escaping, then a 
alight application of plaster will serve to keep 
this valuable ingredient within the pile. Any 
liquid draining from the pile should be absorbed 
by earth or muck and returned upon it. 
-+ ♦ » - - 
DRAINAGE. 
In an article under the above title, by Prof. R. 
0. Caui'EN’tuk, I find much valuable information. 
Very few farms are perfectly drained naturally, 
and it is no exaggeration to say that a careful 
perusal of these articles is worth ten times the 
cost of the Rural for one year to auy owner of 
an undraiued farm. If any criticism can be 
made upon these articles it is that perfectly 
constructed draius can be made by any one who 
has average ability without ono-half the ap¬ 
pliances Mr. Carpenter uses, or ouo-tenth the 
preliminary surveys aud levelings. In bottom¬ 
ing a drain a few barrels of water can be drawn 
upon a stone-boat along the line of the drain, 
and a perfect fall obtaiued. There can be no 
