NEW 
“ TO IMPROVE THE SOIL AND THE MIND.” 
SERIES. 
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ALBANY, JULY, 1S45. 
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THE CULTIVATOR 
Is published on the first of each month, at Albany , H. Y.,by 
LUTHER TUCKER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 
ONE DOLLAR A YEAR. 
Seven copies for $5— Fifteen copies for $10,00—all payments 
to be made in advance, and free of postage. K7” All subscriptions 
to commence with the volume. 
0=- Complete sets of the First Series of “ THE CULTIVA 
TOR,” consisting of ten vols., quarto, are for sale at the office, and 
may be ordered through the Agents of the paper throughout the 
country. Price, stitched—vols. 1, 2, 3 and 4, 50 cents each—vols. 5. 
6, 7, 8, 9 and 10, $1,00 each—for the whole set, $8,00. Vol. I, new 
series, stitched, :$1—bound, $1,25. 
office in new-york city, at 
M. H. NEWMAN’S BOOKSTORE, No. 199 BROADWAY, 
where single numbers, or complete sets of the back volumes, can 
always be obtained. 
Jorcigrt (Sorresponbence. 
MR. MITCHELL’S LETTERS—No. VII. 
Irish Peasantry—Culture of Potatoes in Ireland, <§-c. 
London, 19th May, 1845. 
Luther Tucker, Esq. : Dear Sir—Leaping from Jer¬ 
sey to the north-east coast of Ireland we find, in place of 
the bright green fields and high hedge rows, a succession 
of wild hills covered with a stinted furze, destitute of 
fencing and profitless save for pasturage. There are 
indeed little huts to be seen about their edges, and a 
meagre cultivation is creeping lazily round their skirts; 
and between them, here and there, are rich vales, in one 
of which lies, half-way up the north side of Carlingford 
bay, the beautiful village of Rosstrevor. The general 
character of the surface however, on a first approach to 
the shore, is uninteresting to an agricultural eye. The 
homes of the laborers are mere huts of mud and stone, 
possessing none of the rural charms belonging so emi¬ 
nently to those of England, but are slatternly without 
and filthy within. In fact, the Irish peasant, from my 
observation, is as peculiar for his-want of taste and neat¬ 
ness, as is the English for its possession. I have indeed 
seen beautiful way-side cottages in Ireland, but not 
having a beauty that would bear examination in detail, 
and possessing more charms in the distance than when 
under the eye. This peculiarity is observable not only 
in their homes, but in every habit of their out-of-door 
life. Their implements are left scattered about the 
fields—their fences are stragling—their clothes ragged, 
and their habits of labor destitute of all system. Thus 
the ditcher will work like a madman for an hour—his 
coat in the ditch, and his hat on the fence, and then will 
throw his spade upon the ground and run to his cabin for 
a boiled potatoe, and if he have no line to direct his 
work, he will be as likely to trench in a circle as in a 
direct course. 
Returning to the neighborhood of Newry, where T 
landed, I saw scattered about small lots of wheat, but 
most of the available soil was thrown into ridges for 
potatoes. The method employed, I found afterwards, to 
be almost universal throughout Ireland. The land was 
first plowed, then laid off by stakes or lines into strips 
«f four or five feet wide—an interval of eighteen or 
twenty inches being left between each. The manure is 
spread carefully over the wider strips—the tubers (uni¬ 
formly cut) placed at distances of five inches apart each 
way, upon the manure; all the soil is then dug from the 
narrower strips and thrown carefully and lightly over the 
seed. 
As I approached the town, passing for some four or 
five miles under the high wall of the park of an Irish 
peer, the country spread out into a more level and richer 
surface. The houses, thickening into streets, were even 
more dirty than the scattered ones nearer the sea. The 
paveif.ents, if indeed any belonged to the streets I first 
entered, were covered with all manner of filth, and the 
front of nearly every cabin was adorned with an unctuous 
pile of manure placed just outside and opposite the door, 
on which were gallopading, with tangled hair, half naked 
children of every degree; and I was agreeably surprised 
amid the general foulness, to see running out of one 
of the most pretending of the houses a nice pair of Berk¬ 
shire pigs; and through several side entrances I had 
passing glimpses of fair looking cows quietly munching 
at a lock of hay. 
It was market day, and the roads were crowded with 
booths and clumsily made carts, and the women scattered 
beside the way, with goods of all sorts, from old iror 
sauce pans to bunches of mint and radishes, were earnest 
that I should buy a ha’penny’s worth—no inconsiderable 
sale for those whose whole stock was barely worth 9 
shilling. The absence of all cleanliness in street—is 
shop—in dress—in person—was disgusting. The meats 
on show were excellent, and so were the vegetables, bu« 
cleaner salesmen would have made far less excellent pro¬ 
visions more tempting. Flaming advertisements wer® 
posted in every part of the town of the first ships bound 
for New-York—and I found them scattered throughout 
Ireland, and not on one occasion only, witnessed the 
parting of. some youth from friends, for a trial of life is 
the west, and heard, not without emotion, the sighs, and 
farewells, and screams, in which that excitable nation 
are prone to indulge. 
Immense numbers of cattle and swine are annually ship¬ 
ped from Newry to Liverpool—the steamers bringing over 
in turn manufactured goods—and not unfrequently, at pre¬ 
sent, guano and the patent manures. Indeed, I may say, 
from my observation, that the vaule of manure is more 
fully appreciated in Ireland than in most parts of Eng¬ 
land. And though Irish tillage has not yet availed itself 
of the latest scientific aids, and is slovenly in its opera¬ 
tions, though drainage and irrigation are not yet gene¬ 
rally adopted, yet have I nowhere in England—in travel¬ 
ling through twelve or fifteen of its principal counties— 
seen such scrupulous preservation of every substance that 
will enrich the soil, as in Ireland. 
Travelling north and west from Newry, the country 
improves in richness and beauty. The roads, as they are 
everywhere in Great Britain, are excellent; the fences 
not so trimly built or clipped as in England—stiff effec¬ 
tive barriers against unruly cattle, and there are glimpses 
among the hills of the green valleys which nourish the 
thousands of herds that find their way across the channel. 
Women are in the field, not scorning the hardest of the 
labor, and as hard favored and as dirty as the men. 
The spade does more than half the office of the plow in 
all the potatoe fields—hence their great crops and the 
equally great crops of grass that follow. Though it was 
the 20th of April, when in the north of Ireland, I saw* 
