Chapter VIII: Preface: To the First Edition (8)

Now we have not one word to say against “accomplishments” when they are _real_, and are not purchased at the expense of a girl’s constitution. She may dance like Miriam, paint like Raphael, make wax fruit till the birds come and peck at the cunning imitation; she may play like Orpheus harping after Eurydice (or what will be more to the purpose, like a Eurydice after an Orpheus), she may sing and write poetry to the moon, and to every star in the heavens, and every flower on earth, to zephyrs, to memory, to friendship, and to whatever is imaginable in the spheres, or on the world—if she will, in the midst of these ineffable things, remember the most important facts, that _health_ is a blessing; that God made health to depend upon exercise, and temperate living in all respects; and that the great objects of our existence, in respect to ourselves, is a virtuous and pious character, and in respect to others, the raising and training of a family after such a sort that neither we, nor men, nor God, shall be ashamed of them.

Now we are not quite so enthusiastic as to suppose that floriculture has in it a balm for all these mentioned ills. We are very moderate in our expectations, believing, only, that it may become a very important auxiliary in maintaining health of body and purity of mind.

When once a mind has been touched with zeal in floriculture it seldom forgets its love. If our children were early made little enthusiasts for the garden, when they were old they would not depart from it. A woman’s perception of the beauty of form, of colors, of arrangement, is naturally quicker and truer than man’s. Why should they admire these only in painting, in dress, and in furniture? Can human art equal what God has made, in variety, hue, grace, symmetry, order and delicacy? A beautiful engraving is often admired by those who never look at a natural landscape; ladies become connoisseurs of “artificials,” who live in proximity to real flowers without a spark of enthusiasm for them. We are persuaded that, if parents, instead of regarding a disposition to train flowers as a useless trouble, a waste of time, a pernicious romancing, would inspire the love of it, nurture and direct it, it would save their daughters from _false taste_, and all love of meretricious ornament. The most enthusiastic lovers of nature catch something of the simplicity and truthfulness of nature.

Now a constant temptation to female vanity—(if it may be supposed for the sake of argument, to exist) is a display of person, of dress, of equipage. In olden times, without entirely hating their beauty, our mothers used to be proud of their spinning, their weaving, their curiously-wrought apparel for bed and board. A pride in what we have _done_ is not, if in due measure, wrong or unwise; and we really think that rivalry among the young in rearing the choicest plants, the most resplendent flowers, would be altogether a wise exchange for a rivalry of lace, and ribbons, and silks. And, even if poor human nature must be forced to allow the privilege of criticising each other something severely, it would be much more amiable to pull roses to pieces, than to pull caps; all the shafts which are now cast at the luckless beauty, might more harmlessly be cast upon the glowing shield of her dahlias or upon the cup of her tulips.

A love of flowers would beget early rising, industry, habits of close observation, and of reading. It would incline the mind to notice natural phenomena, and to reason upon them. It would occupy the mind with pure thoughts, and inspire a sweet and gentle enthusiasm; maintain simplicity of taste; and in connection with personal instruction, unfold in the heart an enlarged, unstraitened, ardent piety.

KEEPING YOUNG PIGS IN WINTER.

There is both negligence, and mistake, in the way of wintering pigs. I am not talking to those whose manner of keeping stock is, to let stock take care of themselves; but to farmers who _mean to be careful_. Hogs should be _sorted_. The little ones will, otherwise, be cheated at the trough, and overlaid and smothered in the sleeping-heap. There should not be too many in one inclosure; especially young pigs should not sleep in crowds; for, although they sleep warmer, they will suffer on that very account. Lying in piles, they get sweaty; the skin is much more sensitive to the cold, and coming out in the morning reaking and smoking, the keen air pierces them. In this way, young pigs die off through the winter by being too warm at night. If you have the land-shark and alligator breed, however, you should crowd these together, for the more they die off the better for the farmer.

SWEET POTATOES.

Although our practice has been more extensive, and is more skillful, in eating sweet potatoes than in raising them, we yet adventure some remarks: No root can live and grow without food from the leaf; if the tops be permitted to root, so much nutriment is subtracted from the tubers as is diverted to these new roots. Those who are best skilled in their cultivation, raise their vines up so as to detach the roots, but do not twist them round the hill; which, by crushing or covering the leaves, would render the vines unhealthy. As to vines of the _Cucurbitacæ_, their fruit not being under ground, it is not necessary that such an amount of prepared sap should go to the root as if tubers were formed. There is, in such vines, a great liability to disease and injury near the hill. The vines shrink and dry near the base; and however flourishing the running end may otherwise be, it is destroyed. If roots are secured at several points along the vine, we remove the chances of its prematurely dying, without withdrawing any sap necessary for the maturation of its fruit.

MANAGEMENT OF BOTTOM-LANDS.

Almost every kind of soil requires a management of its own. That proper for clays, and that proper for bottom-lands, cannot be interchanged. Bottom lands are usually composed largely of vegetable matter and sand; and are therefore light, and easy to work; yet, as they are now managed, they admit a less variety of crops than the tougher and more unmanageable clay lands.

BOTTOM-LANDS FOR CORN.—Our corn-lands, strictly so called, consist of rich intervales and river bottoms. On these corn is raised year after year, without manuring, fallowing, clover, or any change; but one constant, successive corn, corn, corn. It is supposed that corn may be had for an indefinite period, so far as mere exhaustion of the soil is concerned, if the right course is pursued. Some of the best farmers in this region _hog_ their corn lands. _Hogging_ is turning the hogs in upon the ripe corn, and letting them harvest it in their own way. The saving of labor of gathering the corn and feeding it out is very great. Some single farmers fatten from one to five hundred head of hogs; but if this number were fed by hand and the grain gathered for them it would require a force which would eat up the profits. When the fatting hogs have eaten off the field (temporary fences divide large fields into inclosures of convenient size) they are turned into another, and the stock-hogs for another year, are let in to glean and root for the waste and trampled corn. In this way nothing is lost.

This method _takes very little off from the land_; for the droppings of the hogs returns a great amount of food for the soil; and the corn stalks being burned or turned under, the land continues in good heart. Land being hogged will be _free from cut-worms_; for the continual rooting of the stock-hogs, which continues until the ground freezes, throws up the eggs or insect to be destroyed by the winter. This method of cultivation is peculiarly suited to large farms, where extensive tracts of ground are kept under the plow.

But in the course of eight or ten years, this process renders the soil extremely light. The action of frost upon it, after the hogs have snout-plowed it, leaves it in the spring as light and dry as an ash-heap. The corn will still _grow_ as well, but every high wind will throw it down; the soil has not tenacity enough to hold up its crop. _Clovering_ has been resorted to by some good farmers as a remedy; but without pretending to know certainly, we suspect that clover will not fully answer the object. Clover on hard soils, separates the particles and renders the ground lighter, and adds vegetable matter to its composition. This is not what bottom land needs. It is _too_ light, and rich enough in vegetable matter.

We believe a better course will be found in putting _bottom-lands to small grain_. To be sure, there are difficulties in the way of this; but good farming is nothing but a compromise of difficulties. If the month of May be cold and backward, wheat will do well and yield freely. But if the spring is forward, May warm and wet, the grain will run rank, break down when the head begins to fill, and, of course, the berry, however plump and well it might have looked in the milk, will, after it falls, for want of nourishment, light, and air, shrink and shrivel. But even in such springs, might not an over rankness be prevented by pasturing the grain; or even mowing it, when, as it sometimes happens, it gets ahead of what cattle are put upon it. But, at the worst, the grain is not lost; for if it lodges, and is spoiled for the sickle, hogs may be turned upon it and they will thrive well.

But now comes the advantage of small grain to the soil, which will be the same whether the crop is reaped or hogged. The straw or stubble, in either case, remains upon the ground. This should not be _plowed in_, but _burned, and the ashes plowed under_. To do this a strip of eight feet should be plowed about the whole field; and fire put to it, _on every side at once_, so that it may burn towards the centre; for fire, driven across a field, would leap many feet of open space at a fence. The more stubble the better, and the more weeds the better. The ashes will give to the soil just what it lacks, cohesion or firmness, and moisture. For, to make a dry soil moist, requires some substance to be added, which, having an affinity for moisture, shall attract and retain it. This is the nature of wood or straw ashes. A gentleman who will recognize in the above much of his own practical experience, mentioned to us a singular fact in corroboration of this reasoning. Having a very heavy wheat or oat stubble on a bottom-land field, which made it very hard for the plow, he burned it over; but a smart thunder-storm coming suddenly up, the fire was extinguished, leaving about five acres in the middle of the piece, unburned. The whole field was then plowed. It was found that the soil in the part burned over was more firm, and moist, all the ensuing summer; and the corn more even, and darker colored, than that upon the five acres which escaped the fire, and whose stubble had been plowed in.

At all events, there can be no doubt that wood-ashes would be very advantageous to bottom lands. And we are persuaded that such soils may be kept in wheat and corn for any length of time, if thus managed. In conclusion, corn your bottom-lands till they are too light, hogging instead of harvesting them; then put in wheat or oats; leave the stubble long, burn it over, and put it into wheat again, or to corn, as the case may be.

CULTIVATION OF WHEAT.

There are two opinions which will prevent any attempt to improve the cultivation of wheat, or, indeed, of anything else. The first is the opinion that, what are called _wheat-lands_, yield enough at any rate: the second is the opinion of those who own a soil not naturally good for wheat, that there is no use in trying to raise much to the acre. We suppose that wheat will not _average_ more than twelve bushels to the acre, as it is now cultivated in some parts. At that rate, and with too low prices, it is not worth cultivation for commercial purposes. The cost of seed, of labor in preparing the soil, putting in the crop, harvesting, threshing, and carrying it to market, is greater than the value of the crop. At fifty cents a bushel, and twelve bushels to the acre, the farmer gets six dollars, which certainly does not cover the worth of his time and the interest on his land.

Is it possible, then, at an expense within the means of ordinary farmers, to bring a double or treble crop of wheat? If nature has set limits to the produce of this grain to the acre, and if our farmers have come up to that limit, there is no use in their trying to do any better. But if their crop is four fold behind what it ought to be, they will feel courage to reach out for a better mode of cultivation. Vegetables collect food from the atmosphere, and from the soil; and different plants select different articles of food from the soil, just as different birds, beasts, insects, etc., require different food. One class of plants draws potash largely from the soil, as turnips, potatoes, the stalk of corn, etc. Another class requires lime, in great measure, as tobacco, pea straw, etc. Liebig partially classifies plants according to the principal food which they require; as silica plants, lime plants, potash plants, etc.

Every plant being composed of certain chemical elements, requires for its perfection a soil containing those elements. Thus chemistry has shown, by exact analysis, that good meadow hay contains the following elements: Silica (sand), lime (as a phosphate, a sulphate, and a carbonate, i. e. lime combined with phosphoric, sulphuric, and carbonic acids), potash (as a chloride, and a sulphate), magnesia, iron, and soda. Whatever soil is rich in these will be productive of grass.

The grain of wheat (in distinction from the straw) contains, and of course requires from the soil, sulphates of potash, soda, lime, magnesia, iron, etc.

Any vegetable, in its proper latitude, will flourish in a soil which will yield it an abundance of food; and decline in a soil which is barren of the proper nutritive ingredients.

A practical, scientific knowledge of these fundamental facts, will give an intelligent farmer, in grain-growing latitudes, almost unlimited power over his crops. A good cook knows what things are required for bread; he selects these materials, compounds them to definite proportions—adding, if any one is deficient; subtracting, if any one is in excess. Raising a crop is a species of slow cooking. Here is a compound of such materials (called wheat) to be made. Nature agrees to knead them together, and produce the grain, if the farmer will supply the materials. To do this he _must_ understand what these materials are. Suppose a cook perceiving that the bread was wretched, did not know exactly what was the matter; and should add, salt, or flour, or yeast, or water at hap-hazard? Yet that is exactly what multitudes of farmers do. They find that their fields yield a small crop of wheat. They do not know what the matter is. Is the soil deficient in lime, or sand, or clay? Is magnesia or potash lacking? Perhaps they do not even know that these things are requisite to this crop. “The land must be manured.” Now, manure on an impracticable soil, is _medicine_. Of course if the farmer prescribes, he must tell _what_ medicine, i. e. what manure. Is it vegetable matter or phosphates? alumina or silica? Suppose a doctor says: “You are sick and must take medicine,” without knowing what the disease is, or what the appropriate remedy; and so should pull out a handful of whatever there was in his saddle-bags and dose the wretch? That’s the way farming goes on. “The ten acre lot wants manure.” To the barn yard he goes, takes the dung heap, plows it under, and gets an enormous crop of—straw. Nitrogenous manure was not what the soil wanted. He has added materials which existed in abundance already; but those elements, from the want of which his crop suffered, have not been given it. The land is sicker than it was before. It languishes for want of one element, it suffers from a surfeit of another. We are prepared to sustain these observations by a reference to authentic facts.

Massachusetts, a few years ago, was not a wheat-growing State. Cautious farmers had given up the crop, because neither soil nor climate was supposed to favor it. How then have both soil and climate been persuaded to relent, and permit from twenty to forty bushels to grow to the acre? It was no accident, and no series of blind but lucky blunders, that effected the change. It was _thinking_ that did it. _It was a change wrought by science._ Elliot (in Connecticut), Deane (both clergymen), Dexter, Lowell, Fessenden, and many others, all men of science, were pioneers. Agricultural surveys, geological surveys, and skillful chemical analyses of the soil and its products have been made for, now, a series of years. A Hitchcock, a Dana, a Jackson have applied science to agriculture. Pamphlets, books, and widely circulated newspapers have diffused this knowledge. Agricultural societies, state and county; farmers’ meetings for discussion, such as are held every winter in Boston, have awakened the _mind_ of farmers, and by learning to treat their soils skillfully, good wheat is raised in large quantities on soils naturally very averse to wheat.

The average crop of wheat in great Britain is _twenty-six_ bushels to the acre, but forty and fifty are common to good farmers; sixty, seventy, and even eighty have been raised by great care.

In the whole United States it will not average much more than fifteen. A comparison of the two countries will show a corresponding inferiority on our part in the application of _science_ to agriculture. Scotland, formerly, hardly raised wheat. Since the formation of the Highland Agricultural Society in Scotland, wheat has _averaged_ fifty-one bushels to the acre!—_Ellsworth’s Report for 1844_, p. 16.

Lord Hardwicke stated, in a speech before the Royal Agricultural Society of England, that fine Suffolk wheat had produced _seventy-six_ bushels per acre; and another and improved variety had yielded _eighty-two_ bushels per acre! This was the result of “book farming” in a country where anti-book farmers raise _twenty-six_ bushels to the acre.

Those very operations which farmers call _practical_, and upon which they rely in decrying “book farming” were first made known by science, and through the writings of scientific men.

These views have an immediate and practical bearing on the cultivation of wheat in the Western States.

Hitherto the want of enough cleared land has led farmers to put in wheat among the corn, and _half_ put it in at that. Others have plowed their fallows, or their grass lands, so early in the season, that rains and settling have made it hard again by seed-time. Then, without stirring it, the grain has been thrown (away) upon it, and half harrowed in and left to its fate. Equally bad has been the system of late single plowing. Others have given their grain no soil to bed their roots in; a scratched surface receives the grain; its roots, like the steward, cannot dig, and so get no hold; and are either winter killed, or subsist upon the scanty food of the three or four inches of top soil. With some single exceptions, wheat cannot be said to have been _cultivated_ yet. The two great operations in rendering soil productive of wheat, are either the _development of the materials already in the soil; or, the addition to the soil of properties which are wanting_.

Much land yielding only twelve or fifteen bushels, by a better preparation would, just as easily, yield thirty. Let us suppose that a common plowing of four or five inches, precedes sowing. Out of this superficial soil the wheat is to draw its food. Constant cropping has, perhaps, already diminished its abundance. Then wheat is rank in stem, short in the head, and light in the kernel. But below there is a bed of materials untouched. The subsoil, if brought up, exposed to the ameliorating influence of the elements, will furnish in great abundance the elements required. The simple operation of deep and thorough plowing will, often, be enough to increase the crop one-half. Deep plowing gives a place for the roots, which will not be apt to heave out in winter; it saves the wheat from drought, it gives the nourishment of twice the quantity of soil to the crop.

Five acres may become ten by enlarging the soil _downward_. These remarks are desultory; and, while we intend to continue writing on the subject, we say to such as may be getting ready for the wheat-sowing, _plow deeply and thoroughly_; unlike corn, wheat can only be plowed once, and that at the beginning. It should be thoroughly done, then, once for all.

WHEAT LANDS ought to be so farmed as to grow better from year to year; certainly, they ought to hold their own. Lands may be kept in heart by the adoption of a rotation suited to each particular soil; or, if frequent wheat crops are raised, by fallows or manuring. It is a fact that in this neighborhood farms in the hands of careful men are yielding better crops of wheat every year; while multitudes of farmers think themselves fortunate in twelve or fifteen bushels to the acre, there is another class who expect twenty-five or thirty bushels, and in good seasons get it. This is encouraging. As our lands get older we may look for yet better things. Some farmers put in from 100 to 800, and even 1,000 acres of wheat. The native qualities of the soil are relied upon for the crop. To manure or clover such a body of land is impossible with any capital at the command of its owners. But with us, each owner of a quarter section puts in from ten to twenty acres, and it lies within his means to dress this quantity of land to a high degree.

SOILS FIT FOR WHEAT.—A vegetable mold cannot yield wheat, because it does not contain, and therefore cannot afford to the crop, silicate of potash, or phosphate of magnesia; the first of which gives strength to the stem, and the second of which is necessary to the grain. On such soil wheat may grow as a grass, but not as a grain.

A mere sand will not yield wheat; because wheat requires, and such soils do not contain, soda, magnesia, and especially silicate of potash.

All clays contain potash, which is indispensable to wheat, but they may be deficient in soda, in magnesia, and in other alkalies.

A calcareous clay-loam may be regarded as the best soil for wheat. And when it does not exist in a natural state, all the additions in the form of manure should be with reference to the formation of such a soil. If the land be light and sandy, clay, and marl, and wood ashes should be added, together with barnyard manure; if the soil is a tenacious clay, it should be warmed and mellowed by sand and manure; if it is deficient in lime, lime in substance, or in marl must be given; vegetable molds, if heavily dressed with wood-ashes and lime, may be brought to produce wheat.

TO PREPARE THE GROUND.—This operation depends upon the condition of the soil. But, in all cases, the deepest plowing is the best. The roots of wheat, if unchecked, will extend more than _five feet_. Stiff, tough, soils, unbroken for years, and especially if much trampled by cattle, will require strong teams. Oxen are better than horses to break up with. It has been said, that a yoke of cattle draw a plow deeper, naturally, than a span of horses. They are certainly better fitted for dull, dead, heavy pulling. And if oxen have been well trained they will do as much plowing in a season as horses, and come out of the work in better condition.

Fallow lands should be broken up early in summer, as soon as corn planting is over; about midsummer plow again; and the last time early in September to prepare for seed.

A grass or clover lay[4] may be plowed under deeply at midsummer, and not disturbed till sowing-time; and the fall plowing should not disturb the inverted sod.

When wheat is to be sown on wheat again, as large a part of the straw should be left in the harvest-field as possible. This is to be plowed under; but, if it can be done without endangering the fences, it would be better to _burn it over_; the ashes will contain all the valuable salts. On this point we extract the following note appended by the editor of _Liebig’s Agricultural Chemistry_.

“In some parts of the grand-duchy of Hesse, where wood is
scarce and dear, it is customary for the common people to
club together and build baking-ovens, which are heated with
straw instead of wood. The ashes of this straw are carefully
collected and sold every year at very high prices. The
farmers there have found by experience that the ashes of
straw form the very best manure for wheat; although it
exerts no influence on the growth of fallow-crops (potatoes
or the leguminosæ, for example). The stem of wheat grown in
this way possesses an uncommon strength. The cause of the
favorable action of these ashes will be apparent, when it is
considered that all corn-plants require silicate of potash;
and that the ashes of straw consist almost entirely of this
compound.”

But this procedure does not depend upon theoretical reasonings; it has been abundantly substantiated by the practice of English cultivators. We find on page 333 of the “British Husbandry,” an admirable work published under the superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, the following statement:

“The _ashes of burnt straw_ have also been found beneficial
by many intelligent practical farmers, from some of whose
experiments we select the following instances. Advantage was
taken of a fine day to fire the stubble of an oat-field soon
after harvest, the precaution having been previously taken
of sweeping round the boundary to prevent injury to the
hedges. The operation was easily performed, by simply
applying a light to windward, and it completely destroyed
every weed that grew, leaving the surface completely covered
with ashes; and the following crop, which was wheat,
produced full five quarters per acre. This excited further
experiment, the result of which was, that in the following
season, the stubble having been partly plowed in according
to the common practice, and partly burned, and the land sown
with wheat, the crop produced eight bushels per acre more on
that portion which had been burned, than on that which had
been plowed in. The same experiment was repeated, on
different occasions, with similar results; and a following
crop of oats having been laid down with seeds, the clover
was found perfectly healthy, while that portion on which the
burning of the stubble had been omitted, was choked with
weeds. It must, however, be recollected, that if intended to
have a decided effect, the stubble must be left of a
considerable length, which will occasion a material
deficiency of farmyard manure; though the advantages will be
gained of saving the cost of moving the stubs, the seeds of
weeds and insects will be considerably destroyed, and the
land will be left unimpeded for the operation of the plow.

“On the wolds of Lincolnshire, the practice of not only
burning the stubble, but even the straw of threshed grain,
has been carried, in many cases, to the extent of four to
six loads per acre; and, as it is described in the report of
the county, has been attended, in all those instances, with
very decidedly good effect. It is even said to have been
found superior, in some comparative trials, to yard-dung, in
the respective rate of five tons of straw to ten of manure!”

We frequently ride past immense piles of wheat straw, encumbering the yard or field where it was threshed; and never without thinking upon the unthriftiness of a farmer who ignorantly takes everything off his wheat land, returns nothing to it, and is content with annually diminishing crops.

SELECTION OF SEEDS.—The varieties of wheat, already very numerous, are constantly increasing. No farmer should be satisfied with anything short of the _best_ kind of wheat. Suppose an expense of many dollars to have been incurred in procuring a new kind, if it yield only two bushels more to the acre than an old sort, it will more than pay for itself in the first harvest field. It should be observed that different soils require different varieties; and every farmer should select, after trial, the kind which agrees best with his land.

A standard wheat should be hardy, strong in the straw; not easy to shell and waste, prolific, thin in the bran, white in flour, and the flour rich in starch and gluten. The earliness or lateness of a variety affects its liability to disease.

Much may be done by every farmer to secure a variety suited to his soil from his own fields. Let a watchful eye observe every remarkable head of wheat—a very early one, a very long head, any which have an unusual sized grain, or is distinguished for any excellent property. By gathering, planting separately, and then culling again, each farmer may improve his own wheat ten fold. Indeed it has been in this way that several improved varieties have been procured.

Of spring wheat, the most valuable kinds are, _Italian Spring Wheat_; bearded, red berry, white chaff, head long, bran thick, flour of fair quality. _Tea_ or _Siberian Bald_; bright straw, not long; berry white, bald; flour good; extensively cultivated in New England and northern part of New York. Valuable variety.

BLACK SEA WHEAT.—White chaff, bearded, berry red, long and heavy, bran thick, flour inferior. Ripens very early, and seldom rusts or mildews.

The following are also the spring varieties. _Egyptian Wild Goose or California._—Large and branching head, bearded, berry small, bran thick, flour coarse and yellow, ripens late, and subject to rust. Although branching, it is not productive. There is a winter variety also. _Rock Wheat_, from Spain.—Chaff white, bearded, berry red and long, bran thick, flour of fair quality, hardy, shows small, well adapted for new lands and late sowing. _Black Bearded._—Long cultivated in New York—stem large, heavy head, berry large and red, beard very long and stiff, produces flour well. _Red Bearded_, English.—Chaff red, bearded, beards standing out, berry white, weighs from sixty to sixty-two pounds. _Scotch Wheat._—A large white wheat, berry and straw large.

Spring wheat does well on soils which heave and throw out winter wheat. It is deemed a good policy to sow some spring wheat every year, that, if the winter wheat fails, a crop may still be on hand.

An account of the best varieties of winter wheat, we extract from the _Western Farmer and Gardener_:

“WHITE FLINT.—A winter wheat, very white chaff, withstood
Hessian fly well, has yielded fifty-four bushels to the
acre, weighing from sixty-three to sixty-seven pounds per
bushel. _Improved White Flint._—This from early selection
from the first. _White Provence, from France._—A white
wheat—shows small heads, well filled and large. _Old Red
Chaff._—White wheat, old—subject to fly. _Kentucky, White
Bearded._— White wheat, sometimes called Canadian
Flint—early, good for clay soils. _Indiana Wheat._—White
wheat—berry white and large, ripens early, not so flinty as
the White Flint, good flour, valuable for clayey soils.
_Velvet Beard, or Crate Wheat._—White wheat—English variety,
chaff reddish, berry large and red, straw large and long,
heads long and well filled, beard very stiff, flour
yellowish. _Soule’s Wheat._—A mixed variety, heads large,
berry white, not very hardy. _Beaver Dam._—Old variety,
berry red, flour yellowish, ripens late. _Eclipse._—English,
not hardy. _Virginia White May_, from Virginia.—Winter, good
flour, chaff white. _Wheatland Wheat_, from Virginia.—Chaff
red, heads well filled, berry red, hardy. _Tuscan Bald_,
from Italy in 1837.—Berry large and white, not hardy, flour
good. _Tuscan Bearded._—Head large, still less hardy.
_Yorkshire_, from England, ten years ago.—Mixed variety of
white and red chaff, bald, berry white, good flour, liable
to injury from insects, subject to ergot. _Bellevere
Tallavera._—White variety from England, head large, tillers
well, not hardy, insects like it much. _Pegglesham_,
English.—Head large, berry white, and medium sized, tender
for our winters—(all this is calculated for New York State.)
_Golden Drop_, English.—Berry red, flour not first rate.
_Skinner Wheat._—Produced from crosses, berry red, chaff
white, hardy, yield good, sixty-four pounds to the bushel.
_Mediterranean._—Chaff light, red bearded, berry red and
long, very flinty, flour inferior. _Hume’s White Wheat_ from
crosses.—A beautiful white wheat, berry large, bran thin,
hardy and a valuable variety. _Blue Stem._—Cultivated for
thirty-three years, berry white, sixty-four pounds to the
bushel, flour superior, bran thin, and very productive.
_Valparaiso Wheat_, from South America.—Chaff white, bald,
berry white, bran thin, a good variety.”

PREPARING SEED FOR SOWING.—Seed wheat should be subjected to a process which shall separate all chess, cockle, etc., from it, together with the shrunken kernels of the wheat itself. This may be, in part, done by screening; but the light grain will float and may thus be detected in the process of brining. Two tubs, or half barrels, may be conveniently used. A strong brine of salt and water is preferred, and the wheat, in convenient parcels, is poured in, the light wheat skimmed from the top, the brine poured off into the second tub, and the heavy wheat at the bottom put into some suitable receptacle to drain for an hour. When in successive parcels the whole quantity to be used has been brined, let it be emptied upon a smooth floor, and limed at the rate of about a bushel of lime to ten of wheat. By this process the chaffy grain is rejected, the smut, to which wheat is so liable, is entirely prevented; and the grain caused to germinate more rapidly and strongly. The lime should be what is termed _quicklime_, or that just slaked. The reason may be explained. No seed can germinate until it has rid itself of a large part of that carbon, which, being essential to its _preservation_, must be withdrawn in order that it may grow. The addition of oxygen from air and water converts the carbon to carbonic acid, which is emitted from the pores, and escapes. Newly slaked lime has a powerful affinity for carbonic acid; and by withdrawing it from the seed, puts it in a condition favorable to immediate germination. Lime that has been air-slaked or lain exposed to the air after being slaked by water, combines with the carbonic acid in the atmosphere, and when applied to wheat, being already a carbonate, it does not liberate the carbonic acid contained in the seed.

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PLEASURES OF HORTICULTURE.—There is no writing so detestable as so-called _fine writing_. It is painted emptiness. We especially detest fine writing about rural affairs—all the senseless gabble about dew, and zephyrs, and stars, and sunrises—about flowers, and green trees, golden grain and lowing herds, etc. We always suspect a design upon our admiration, and take care not to admire. In short, _geoponical cant, and pastoral cant, and rural cant_ in their length and breadth, are like the whole long catalogue of cants (not excepting the German Kant), intolerable. Now and then, however, somebody writes as though he knew something; and then a free and bold strain of commendation upon rural affairs is relishful.

[4] The word _lay_, or _ley_, is only a different way of
spelling _lea_, the old English word for _field_, not used
except in poetry or by farmers; and it is one, among many
instances, of old Saxon English words being preserved among
the agricultural population long after they have ceased to
be generally used.

PRACTICAL USE OF LEAVES.

There are two facts in the functions of the leaf, which are worth consideration on account of their practical bearings. The food of plants is, for the most part, taken in solution, through its roots. Various minerals—silex, lime, alumen, magnesia, potassa—are passed into the tree in a dissolved state. The sap passes to the leaf, the superfluous water is given off, _but not the substances which it held in solution_. These, in part, are distributed through the plant, and, in part, remain as a _deposit in the cells of the leaf_. Gradually the leaf chokes up, its functions are impeded, and finally entirely stopped. When the leaf drops, it contains a large _per cent._ of mineral matter. An autumnal or old leaf yields, upon analysis, a very much larger proportion of earthy matter than a vernal leaf, which, being yet young, has not received within its cells any considerable deposit. It will be found also, that the leaves contain a very much higher _per cent._ of mineral matter, than _the wood of the trunk_. The dried leaves of the elm contain more than eleven _per cent._ of ashes (earthy matter), while the wood contains less than two _per cent._; those of the willow, more than eight _per cent._, while the wood has only 0.45; those of beech 6.69, the wood only 0.36; those of the (European) oak 4.05, the wood only 0.21; those of the pitch-pine 3.15, the wood only 0.25 _per cent._[5]

It is very plain, from these facts, that, in forests, the mineral ingredients of the soil perform a sort of _circulation_; entering the root, they are deposited in the leaf; then, with it, fall to the earth, and by its decay, they are restored to the soil, again to travel their circuit. Forest soils, therefore, instead of being impoverished by the growth of trees, receive back annually the greatest proportion of those mineral elements necessary to the tree, and besides, much organized matter received into the plant from the atmosphere; soils therefore are gaining instead of losing. If owners of parks or groves, for neatness’ sake, or to obtain leaves for other purposes, gather the annual harvest of leaves, they will, in time, take away great quantities of mineral matter, by which the soil, ultimately, will be impoverished, unless it is restored by manures.

Leaf-manure has always been held in high esteem by gardeners. But many regard it as a purely _vegetable substance_; whereas, it is the best mineral manure that can be applied to the soil. What are called vegetable loams (not peat soils, made up principally of decomposed _roots_), contain large quantities of earthy matter, being mineral-vegetable, rather than vegetable soils.

Every gardener should know, that the best manure for any plant is the decomposed leaves and substance of its own species. This fact will suggest the proper course with reference to the leaves, tops, vines, haulm, and other vegetable refuse of the garden.

The other fact connected with the leaf, is its function of _Exhalation_. The greatest proportion of crude sap which ascends the trunk, upon reaching the leaf, is given forth again to the atmosphere, by means of a particularly beautiful economy. The _quantity_ of moisture produced by a plant is hardly dreamed of by those who have not specially informed themselves. The experiments of Hales have been often quoted. A sun-flower, three and a half feet high, presenting a surface of 5.616 square inches exposed to the sun, was found to perspire at the rate of twenty to thirty ounces avoirdupois every twelve hours, or seventeen times more than a man. A vine with twelve square feet exhaled at the rate of five or six ounces a day. A seedling apple-tree, with twelve square feet of foliage, lost nine ounces a day.[6]

These are experiments upon very small plants. The vast amount of surface presented by a large tree must give off immense quantities of moisture. The practical bearings of this fact of vegetable exhalation are not a few. Wet forest-lands, by being cleared of timber, become dry; and streams, fed from such sources, become almost extinct as civilization encroaches on wild woods. The excessive dampness of crowded gardens is not singular, and still less is it strange that dwellings covered with vines, whose windows are choked with shrubs, and whose roof is overhung with branches of trees, should be intolerably damp; and when the good housewife is scrubbing, scouring and brushing, and nevertheless, marvelling that her house is so infested with mold, she hardly suspects that her troubles would be more easily removed by the axe or saw, than by all her cloths and brushes. A house should never be closely surrounded with shrubs. A free circulation of air should be maintained all about it, and shade-trees so disposed as to leave large openings for the light and sun to enter. Unusual rains in any season produce so great a dampness in our residences that no one can fail to notice its effect, both on the health of the occupants, and upon the beauty and good condition of their household substance.

* * * * *

The following method to destroy weeds is pursued at the mint in Paris, with good effect: 10 gallons water, 20 lbs. quicklime And 2 lbs. flowers of sulphur are to be boiled in an iron vessel; after settling, the clear part is thrown off and used when needed. Care must be taken, for if it will destroy weeds it will just as certainly destroy edgings and border flowers if sprinkled on them. Weeds, thus treated, will disappear for several years.

[5] See Dr. Grey’s Botanic Text Book, an admirable work,
which every horticulturist should own and study.

[6] Lindley’s Horticulture, p. 42-44. Grey’s Botany, p. 131.

SPRING WORK FOR PUBLIC-SPIRITED MEN.

SHADE-TREES.—One of the first things that will require your action is, the planting of _shade-trees_. Get your neighbors to join with you. Agree to do four times as much as your share, and you will, perhaps, then obtain some help. Try to get some more to do the same in each street of your village or town.

_Locusts_, of course you will set for immediate shade. They will in three years afford you a delightful verdant umbrella as long as the street. But _maples_ form a charming row, and the autumnal tints of their leaves and the spring flowers add to their beauty. They grow quite rapidly, and in six years, if the soil is good and the trees properly set, they will begin to cast a decided shadow. Elms are, by far, the noblest tree that can be set, but they will have their own time to grow. It is best then to set them in a row of other trees, at about fifty or a hundred feet apart, the intervening space to be occupied with quicker-growing varieties.

The beech, buckeye, horse-chesnut, sycamore, chestnut, and many others may be employed with advantage. Now, do not let your court-house square look any longer so barren.

_Avenues_ may be lined with rows of trees, but squares and open spaces should have them grouped or scattered in small knots and parcels in a more natural manner.

MAY-WEED.—There was never a better time to exterminate this villainous, stinking weed than summer-time will be. Just as soon as the first blossoms show, “up and at it.” Club together in your streets and agree to spend one day _a-mowing_. Keep it down thoroughly for one season and it will no longer bedrabble your wife’s and daughter’s dresses, nor fill the air with its pungent stench, or weary the eye with its everlasting white and yellow.

SIDE-WALKS. What if your neighbors are lazy; what if they do not care? Some one ought to see that there are good gravel walks in each village. You can have them in this way: Take your horse and cart and make them before your own grounds, and then go on no matter who owns, and when your neighbors see that _you_ have public spirit, they will, by and by, be ready to help you. But the grand way to do nothing, is, not to lift a finger yourself, and then to rail at your fellow-citizens as selfish and devoid of all public spirit.

PROTECT PUBLIC PROPERTY.—What if it does concern everybody else as much as it does you? Some one ought to see that the fences about every square are kept in repair. Some one ought to save the trees from cattle; some one ought to have things in such trim as that the inhabitants can be proud of their own town. Pride is not decent when there is nothing to be proud of; but when things are worthy of it, no man can be decent who is devoid of a proper pride. The church, the schoolhouse, fences, trees, bridges, roads, public squares, sidewalks, these are things which tell tales about people. A stranger, seeking a location, can hardly think well of a place, in which the distinction between the house and stye are not obvious; in which every one is lazy when greediness does not excite him, and where general indolence leaves no time to think of the public good.

When politicians are on the point of dissolving in the very fervent heat of their love for the public, it would recall the fainting soul quicker than hartshorn or vinegar to ask them—Did you ever set out a shade-tree in the street? Did you ever take an hour’s pains about your own village? Have you secured it a lyceum? Have you watched over its schools? Have you aided in any arrangements for the relief of the poor? Have you shown any _practical_ zeal for good roads, good bridges, good sidewalks, good schoolhouses, good churches? Have the young men in your place a public library?

If the question were put to many distinguished village patriots, What have you done for the public good?—the answer would be: “Why, I’ve talked till I’m hoarse, and an ungrateful public refuse me any office by which I may show my love of public affairs in a more practical manner.”

FARMERS AND FARMING SCENES IN THE WEST.

If any one goes to Holland they are all Dutch farmers there; if he goes to England he finds British husbandry; in New England it’s all Yankee farming. A man must go to the West to see a little of every sort of farming that ever existed, and some sorts we will affirm, never had an existence before anywhere else—the purely indigenous farming of the great valley. Within an hour’s ride of each other is the Swiss with his vineyard, the Dutchman with his spade, the “Pennsylvany Dutch” and his barn, the Yankee and his notions, the Kentuckian and his stock, the Irishman and his shillelah, the Welchman and his cheese, besides the supple French and smooth Italian, with here and there a Swede and a very good sprinkling of Indians.

Away yonder to the right is a little patch of thirty acres owned by a Yankee. He keeps good cows, _one_ horse only (fat enough for half a dozen); every hour of the year, save only nights and Sabbath-days he is at work, and neat fences, clean door-yard, a nice barn, good crops, and a profitable dairy, and money at interest, show the results. What if he has but thirty acres, they are worth any two hundred around him, if what a man makes is a criterion of the value of his farm. But a little farther out is a jolly old Kentucky farmer, the owner of about five hundred acres of the best land in the county, which he tills when he has nothing else to do. He is a great hunter and must go out for three or four days every season after deer. He loves office quite well, and is always willing to “serve the public” for a consid-er-a-tion, as Trapbois would say. As to farming, he hires more than he works; but, now and then, as at planting or harvesting, he will lay hold for a week or a month with perfect farming fury, and that’s the last of it. As to working every day and every hour, it would be intolerable! He is a great horse-raiser, is fond of stock, and if a free and easy fellow ready to laugh, not careful of his purse, nor particular about his time, will ride over his grounds, admire his cattle, his bluegrass pasture, his Pattons and his Durhams; and above all, that blooded filly, or that colt of Sir Archie’s—our Kentucky farmer will declare him the finest fellow alive, and his house will be open to him from year’s end to year’s end again.

Right along side of him is a “Pennsylvany Dutch,” good-natured, laborious, frugal and prosperous. He minds his own business. Seldom wrangles for office. Is not very public spirited, although he likes very well to see things prosper. He farms carefully on the old approved plan of his father, plants by the signs in the moon, seldom changes his habits, and on the whole constitutes a very substantial, clean, industrious, but unenterprising farmer.

Then there is a _New York_ Yankee; he has got a grand piece of land, has paid for it, and got money to boot; he knows a little about everything; he “lays off” the timber for a fine large house—bossed the job himself. When it was up he stuck on a kitchen, then a pantry on to that, then a pump-room on that, then a wood-house on that, and then a smoke-house for the fag end; a fine garden, a snug little nursery well tended, good orchards; by and by a second farm, pretty soon a boy on it, all married and fixed off; by and by again another snug little farm, and then another boy on it, with a little wife to help him; and then a spruce young fellow is seen about the premises, and after a while a daughter disappears and may be found some miles off on a good farm, making butter and raising children, and has good luck at both. The old man is getting fat, has money lent out, loves to see his friends, house neat as a pin, glorious place to visit, etc., etc. But who can tell how many sorts more there are in the great heterogeneous West, and how amusing the mixture often is, and what strange customs grow out of the mingling of so many diverse materials. It is like a kaleidoscope, every turn gives a new sight. We will take our leisure, and give some sketches of men, and manners and scenery, as we have seen them in the West.

About eight years ago a raw Dutchman, whose only English was a good-natured _yes_ to every possible question, got employment here as a stable-man. His wages were six dollars and board; that was $36 in six months, for not one cent did he spend. He washed his own shirt and stockings, mended and patched his own breeches, paid for his tobacco by some odd jobs, and laid by his wages. The next six months, being now able to talk “goot Inglish,” he obtained eight dollars a month, and at the end of six months more had $48, making in all for the year $84. The second year, by varying his employment—sawing wood in winter, working for the corporation in summer, making garden in spring, he laid by $100, and the third year $125, making in three years $309.

With this he bought 80 acres of land. It was as wild as when the deer fled over it, and the Indian pursued him. How should he get a living while clearing it? Thus he did it. He hires a man to clear and fence ten acres. He himself remains in town to earn the money to pay for the clearing. Behold him! already risen a degree, he is an employer! In two years’ time he has twenty acres well cleared, a log-house and stable, and money enough to buy stock and tools. He now rises another step in the world, for he gets married, and with his amply-built, broad-faced, good-natured wife, he gives up the town and is a regular farmer.

In Germany he owned nothing and never could; his wages were nominal, his diet chiefly vegetable, and his prospect was, that he would be obliged to labor as a menial for life, barely earning a subsistence and not leaving enough to bury him. In five years, he has become the owner in fee simple of a good farm, with comfortable fixtures, a prospect of rural wealth, an independent life, and, by the blessing of heaven and his wife, of an endless posterity. Two words tell the whole story—Industry and Economy. These two words will make any man rich at the West.