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THE CULTIVATOR. 
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158 
In transplanting, we would lay it down as a maxim, that neither root 
nor branch should be mutilated. It is remarkable that persons cf con¬ 
siderable experience act in direct opposition to this rule, and do not 
give the subject sufficient reflection to convince themselves of its truth. 
No one has a doubt of success when he is transplanting a young tree, 
and the very reason of that success is the fact that he transplants the 
tree entire. It is a common remark, when speaking of trees cf a certain 
size, that they are too large to be transplanted. We do not speak of 
such as are too large on account of their unwieldiness and bulk, but 
simply such as the experience of these planters has convinced them 
that they cannot transplant with safety. Why are they too large ? Is 
the plant or tree subject to any other natural laws? Certainly not; and 
he does net succeed so well—the operation does not proceed with such 
sureties of success, solely because it is not conducted in the same man¬ 
ner. The whole course, for some inexplicable reasons, best known to 
the planter himself, is conducted upon entirely different principles. In \ 
the first case, the subject is small—the plant is entire—not a root or ■ 
branch is amputated. But let him transplant a large tree, and the rou-! 
tine is quite different: half at least cf the roots are cut off, either as a 
matter cf convenience or from principle; the extremities cf the roots j 
are often utterly disregarded, being either severed entirely, or so much j 
bruised and lacerated as to be incapacitated from performing the servi¬ 
ces for which nature intended them. One would think that to any rea- j 
sonable person such a destruction of the essential organs of the plant 
would quite suffice. Not so with our transplanter. He has reduced! 
the root; ergo, he must reduce the top. Accordingly, he takes his 
knife in hand and cuts off at least one-half of the branches and conse - ! 
quently their accompanying leaves—he reduces the top to goodly pro-' 
portions, and elegantly removes every branch which has the misfortune 
to displease his fastidious eye. “ Leaves,” say the vegetable physiolo- 1 
gists, “serve to elaborate the sap—they expose it to the light and air, 1 
and cause it to undergo peculiar chemical changes before it is fitted to 
enter into the permanent composition of the plant; they are therefore 
essential organs.” This is indeed a different view cf the case from that 
presented to you by many transplanters. “ Leaves and branches,” say 
they, “ serve to consume a portion of the sap ; each leaf and each branch 
draws away a portion of nourishment from the other, therefore, if I cut 
half of the branches away, will not the remaining branches receive 
double the portion of sustenance they otherwise would?” Admirable 
logic! Every one knows the analogy which exists between vegetable 
anl animal life. But would any person in his senses think of cutting' 
off a child’s arm because it had had the misfortune to lose its foot? 
Would any one think cf amputating one leg of a beast in order that 
the others might receive more nourishment ? 
Nature, when left to herself, produces no morewjans than are ne¬ 
cessary for the proper existence of her subjects. It is obvious, there- 1 
fore, that the removal by art of any considerable portion of those re- 1 
quisites cannot but be attended by a consequent diminution, for the time, 1 
of the vital powers. How necessary, then, does it appear to a reflect- j 
ing person, that when so important an era in the life of a vegetable as 
the forcible transplanting of its whole body takes place, that every es- \ 
sential member of that body should be preserved entire. If the roots, 1 
leaves, and branches of a tree are essential to the thriving condition of 
that tree whilst standing in a robust state in its native site, are not those 
organs still more essential to enable it to recover the shock of being 
transplanted. The planter above referred to, will, in fact, tell you this 
himself. Ask him which of the two trees transplanted—the small one, 
with its limits and roots entire, or the larger one, with his system of de¬ 
capitation upon it—which of them was afterwards the most thriving. 
He will tell you without hesitation that the first grew luxuriantly at 
once, and that the latter was perhaps several years in recovering. “But,” 
says he, “ this is owing to the greater age of the larger one.” Not at 
all; recent experiments have proved conclusively that trees of almost 
any size may, by attendin'? to the principles here pointed out, be trans¬ 
planted with safety, ardcoitinue in a state of high luxuriance and; 
health; and I confess that it is a strong proof of the influence of habit 
and custom, that persons of considerable experience, with the facts be-' 
fore their eyes, still go on in the old way. 
I have been in luced to to these remarks principally from witnessing 
the recent transplantation of forest trees throughout the country. In 
this case, indeed, the system is carried to the utmost of its limits. Mu-; 
tilation and decapitation are the grand principles cf its professors ; the 
beautiful trees which were, after reduction into the bare poles which are , 1 
both in their appearance and success, such excellent examples of the | 
good taste and sound principles of the proprietors, that no correct hor¬ 
ticulturist can view them without feeling sentiments of horror for the 
former and pity for the latter. ~ A. J. DOWNING- 
Newburgh, N. Y. Feb. 1835. 
Rule for determining the weight of hay .—Hay in the field rick, says 
Low, weighs somewhat better than 112 lbs. the cubic yard ; after being 
compressed in the stack, it weighs from 140 to 180 lbs. and when old 
200 lbs. 
Yoimg* Pi'ien"s Uepartiiietit. 
FROM A FATHER TO HIS SON—No. 4. 
POLITICS. 
Your personal happiness is intimately interwoven with the welfare 
of your country. You are one of the guardians of that welfare. The 
high privileges which our constitutions confer on us, exceeding those of 
, any agricultural people in the world, imposes a solemn obligation, to 
endeavor to preserve those constitutions in their spirit and purity. Fow¬ 
ler is ever corrupting, whatever name be inscribed on its banner. It is 
the innate propensity of man to grasp and abuse it; and the vigilance 
! of a free people must be as unceasing as the flux and reflux of the tide, 
1 to counteract and restrain this frail propensity. Seek then to make 
yourself acquainted with the principles of your government, with the 
duties of its officers, and the personal rights and responsibilities of a 
1 freeman, that you may be capable of rendering justice to all, and par- 
I ticularly to the commonwealth. 
But though I would have you to be a politician, and an intelligent 
: one, I would dislike to see you a political zealot. Parties are salutary 
jin a free government—so is fire in our dwellings; but both become ter¬ 
rible scourges when they get beyond our control. One destroys towns, 
the other subverts good order in society, and leads to anarchy. It is 
the office of prudence to abate their violence, and to restrain them 
j within salutary bounds. The great body of the American people have 
|a common interest and a common object; and we should not witness so 
much of violence and ill-natured abuse, but for the cliesnuts which the 
drones, too lazy to gather from the bur, are endeavoring to snatch from 
the public basket. The rogues ! they get the people by the ears, about 
straws, that they maj' the more readily bear off the spoils. Like boys 
scrambling for coppers, however, while some are enabled to stuff then- 
pockets, some are less fortunate, while others get nothing but bruised 
, knuckles. 
Wear not the collar of party. The term is synonymous with men— 
who change. Give your fealty to principles, which do not change. 
The greatest tyrants have commenced their career as champions cf 
freedom; but truth and justice have remained the same in every age. 
A party is no longer entitled to your support, than it continues to be guid¬ 
ed by r principles which first won your support. By assenting to its er¬ 
rors, you invite new impositions, which human passions, unrestrained, 
are ever disposed to indulge in. How well this is illustrated in parental 
government. Many a boy is ruined through the impunity which 
seemingly applauds his first transgression. 
Become not a rnedicant upon public charity. Jlsk not for office; and 
if tendered, take it not for the gain, but as a duty. He that wants in¬ 
dustry or talent to provide for himself-—will bring neither to the per¬ 
formance of public duties. He who depends upon political office, un¬ 
less unfitted by age or misfortune to provide for himself, surrenders a 
valuable franchise—the right of opinion. He depends upon the caprice 
of fickle men, whose creed he must follow as a requital for the boon 
lie receives. I do not apply this remark to the higher officers of govern¬ 
ment; and I admit there are many exceptions to its application in the 
subordinate departments. It is true, however, that in most cases, com¬ 
pliance with the rule is expected and rendered. This servile depend¬ 
ence upon the favor of power blights and withers the most ennobling fa¬ 
culties of our nature. Shun it as the enemy of your happiness; and if 
you are called upon to discharge a public trust, do it fearlessly, for the 
good of the whole, preferring the consciousness of having done right, to 
that of having promoted the views of a party. The free exercise of 
our judgment, in relation to public men and public measures, is the dis¬ 
tinctive and ennobling characteristic of a freeman ; and he who surren¬ 
ders or prostitutes this right, to gratify his cupidity—from a servile fear 
of giving offence, or a mercenary hope of reward—would sell his coun¬ 
try for an office—he ceases to be a freeman. Like the chamelion, he 
takes the hue of whatever object that for the time administers to his 
wants. 
| In your political, as in your private affairs, permit not the officious 
interference of others to lure you to do what your judgment disapproves; 
and while you are thus tenacious of your own opinions, seek not, under 
false pretences, to mislead your neighbor. Waste not your time at po¬ 
litical meetings. They are generally got up by the interested and the 
indolent—the office seeker and the parysite. These meetings, if ofen 
frequented, lead to bad habits, and too frequently associate you with 
bad company; take you from your business and your family, and in¬ 
flame passions which are at war at once with your quiet and prosperity 
in life. Look about you, and take warning from the condition of med¬ 
dling officious politicians, who neglect their own to take care of the 
public concerns. 
I subjoin, for y r our instruction as well as amusement, the soliloquy 
and plea of a noisy politician, whose prototype may be found in almost 
every town and village. 
“ keter Brush was in a dilapidated condition—out at elbows, out at knees, 
out of pockets, and out of spirits, and out in the street—an ‘ out and outer’ in 
every respect He sat upon the curbstone, lenning his head upon his hand. 
